Eeep!

That's TWO POSTS IN A ROW about baby related things! (well, technically one's about breasts)
Do you see what's happening here, people? Sabotage!! In it's rawest form. What an outrage!

You used to be cool, Liz. You used to talk art and politics and say nifty things. Now you talk about poop and boobies. (although not together, I hope)

And now the thought on everyone's mind is, do you think of ANYthing else?
Yes, I do.

Sex, for example (ha! not you, Aneeta) but then apparently that makes babies so maybe it would mean I was baby-starved?

Sometimes I think of drinking, but then last time I went down to the local watering hole (don't worry, Seth bartends there. I'm not a total tramp) the Mustard inevitably tagged along dressed in his green Sunday finest. The inebriated clientele immediately hailed him as their leprechaun mascot and made me down a Nuclear Rainbow. Mustard, of course, loved the goings on and was soon doing keg-stands all on his own.
Great, now I look completely immoral. That sex-thinking, drinking girl.

Lets see, mmmm...oh! I occasionally like to think about art because in a perfect world I would be making the title, 'Legend of Artistic Genius' daily with my outrageous techniques and heart-stopping symmetry. The brush in my deft fingers creating whorlpools (haha, i typed poop on accident. i was tempted to leave it. whorlpoops. haha, i'm so mature) of color while I illustrate the depths of human emotion or the dizzying hights of the surreal.
..aand then my eyes snap into focus and I discover to my chagrin I've been fingerpainting mustard-like stains onto the wall above the diaperless Avicus.

What's the dealio?
Sincerely,
Bewildered in Texas