take off your drawers, throw ’em in the corner, i can’t see why you can’t stay a little longer

No matter how much you beg and plead, Internet, I just cannot seem to force myself to refer to midgets as “little people.” Because I find it’s only half-true.

So I went to the Babies’r’us this weekend to buy a gift for a friend, and after printing their registry list and walking around the store, looking at tiny little shoes and tiny little hats and tiny little blankets with teddy bears on them, something came over me and I never thought it would but I’ll be damned if it didn’t.

I want a baby.

So I bought one.

And I know you’re thinking that’s a pretty major purchase for me to have made so nonchalantly and all spur-of-the-moment like. But don’t you go worrying your pretty little head, Internet.

It was on clearance.

Asian female. Overstock, I suppose, but I don’t care because hey, free mani/pedis for life. And hopefully some day, she’ll grow to love me.

For a long time.

Right? Right.

Know what else I love about late Spring? How for a few weeks around this time each year, the three or four of you who aren’t degenerate gamblers pretend you actually give a rat’s ass about horseracing.

OMFG that one jockey was going for the triple crown which I guess would have made him head jockey and he might have even gotten to have sex with a full-sized woman as a prize but probably not because gross. I just don’t care, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either.

Know what “Preakness” means in French?

Meat sandwich.

Here’s an example usage for you to practice and practice and then try to impress the locals with on your next trip abroad:

Oh mon dieu! La viande de cheval en ce preakness goûte comme la colle! J’ajouterai du beurre! Viva la Bastille!

And I was married to a French girl for a few years, so I should know.