Yes, I’ve been to a few baby showers over the past year. Yes, I purchased gifts for those showers. And yes, I bought them from you – primarily because that Babies R Us place terrifies me.
But Amazon? You seem to be a little over excited about the diaper covers and pins I purchased SIX MONTHS AGO. AND GIFT WRAPPED. They weren’t for me, I promise. Seriously, you’re starting to sound like Mom.
So first things first, Amazon – I wouldn’t be caught dead carrying that bag. There aren’t enough unicorn stickers nor puffy paints on the planet to make that thing work. Next time, why don’t you just throw in Rod Stewart’s Greatest Hits?
Second, A PUPPY?!? Remember that part where dogs scare the bejeezus out of me? Especially the ones with fangs and that blood thirsty look in their eyes? Granted, Mildred might be as dumb as a dog, but at least I don’t have to follow her around with a little plastic bag so I can hold her warm poop in my hand. I only do that for Rocco. *shudder*
And then there’s the rest of it – diapers and nappies and general baby paraphernalia. No pressure, eh? You’re not even going to wait until I get the whole “cured” trophy from Aloysius before you start pressuring me into doing something else bizarre and traumatic to my bod? Really?
I thought you KNEW me, Amazon. I thought we had a real connection. When I bought Bubba, you sent me all kinds of bad ass recommendations for ways to make him even more magical and productive. When I bought The Bean Trees, you told me about Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. And then you told me when Barbara released The Lacuna. That was all really interesting information, Amazon. We were on fire!
But the magic is gone. It’s like you don’t even listen to me anymore. We’ve grown apart. I TOLD you when I bought my first text book that I didn’t want any extra pressure from you. Now you’re nagging me to get knocked up? It’s like we’re just two strangers sharing the Interwebz.
This, Amazon, is what my recommendations should look like:
Oh, go ahead and try and make it up to me. Since you obviously don’t have a clue, I’ll just go ahead and tell you I prefer sunflowers.
Don’t make me break up with you. And you better not be sending Pegger the Kegger recommendations for coffee mugs that say “Grandma” on them.
Yours (for now),