I know two people who’ve had their second baby and didn’t let me know for months. Not that they were obligated to me. More like, you know with their first kid, they were shouting from the rooftops, on heavy, expensive paper stock.
My friends are so cool. This means, hello! I am cool too. You know, by association. Thank goodness. Now I can stop worrying that my coolness points are vaporizing with each passionate poop-filled diatribe. These dear friends, we've known each other for -gulp- twenty years, have opened a coffee shop in Soho with the best iced cappucinos and fig-ham sandwiches, oh and fresh grilled blueberry muffins that you'll ever sink your fortunate chops into. Children are allowed. And the bathroom is the color of creamed raspberries. An inspired oasis. And the coffee is fair trade shade grown organic. I can picture those lucky little beans lounging on a leaf, wearing teeny tiny little sunglasses and sipping pina coladas. Does it get any better? I'll see you there!