You’re never too old to learn something new about yourself. If that sounds like some retarded Facebook meme about women’s empowerment or something, good, it was meant too.
I’m shocked this happened because I’m not 23 years old anymore. I mean if you’re 23 years old and, if Facebook is any indication at all, you’re learning new shit every moment.
The last thing I learned, before this new thing, was that beer is good.
Really, that’s the last new thing I learned.
But now I know a new thing. Want to know what it is? I’ll tell you.
I don’t ever, ever have to change a baby’s diaper.
Shut up, that’s an awesome thing to realize.
My wife has to change diapers. You likely have to do it as well, but I don’t ever have to. I never have and I’m pretty confident, I never will.
Suck on it baby diaper changers! Wallow in your human-excrement wiping and look upon me with awe. My hands have only touched my own filth and someone else’s filth during that brief experimentation with scat in the early … well let’s not talk about that.
So I can hear you asking how? How did you do that! How have you never changed a baby? I can hear it even if you aren’t actually asking that and/or have stopped reading already.
It’s easy — I never had children. In my mind this means I never have to change a diaper, ever.
Stay with me here.
After having recently spent some seriously-awesome time alone with my wife and my 2-year old nephew it dawned on me, “I don’t have to change him, or any kid, ever.”
Despite repeated sexual shots in the dark throughout high school and repeated games of penis-Russian roulette in my early 20s, nothing happened. There isn’t a little half me out there … Anywhere
This qualifies me to look you straight in the eye and refuse, point blank, to touch your little bundle of poo!
I had this epiphany while in the presence of aforementioned toddler nephew who was doing his best impression of a 40-year old man drunk on vodka and full of Mexican food. He smelled like an Port-A-Potty at a Phish concert. He smelled like dog vomit and beer farts kept in a jar for a week. He smelled like teen spirit that’s been left in the hot sun. It smelled like Thai food and bad dreams.
Can I do one more? Thanks.
He smelled like a family in a one-room hut that only ate cabbage, beans and cheese for a year who finally came into a windfall of pork and then stayed around to really sniff their farts.
He smelled bad.
The conversation about changing him went something like this.
Dagmar: Hey your nephew smells kind of ripe.
Me: I know you should change him. Hurry, it’s grossing me out.
Dagmar: Why me? Come on, I’ll help you.
Me: Oh (laughing) that’s never happening. You go ahead. I’ll guard your drink.
Dagmar: What the fuck asshole, it’s your nephew.
Me: Doesn’t matter you’re far more qualified than I am. I’ll only be a hindrance in there. Maybe even a liability. Kind of like the security guys on the first season of Star Trek.
Dagmar: So you’re not going to help me?
Me: Nope, I never had kids. I think that qualifies me for immunity from diaper
duty. Even if it doesn’t, it should.
Dagmar: You’re being an asshole; help me find the diaper bag at least.
Me: That’s the maximum amount of effort I’m willing to put into this.
Thankfully my sister-in-law showed up moments later and saved the day, but the point is you should all realize, I was fully prepared to toss my bride under a bus filled with poop.
My logic is this: Because I never had a kid and most of you have, each and every one of you is vastly more qualified to wipe excrement from the nether regions of the “unpotty trained.” This very fact means I’ll never have to do it. Ever! And kids, that’s awesome.
My nephew can ask me for help when he’s 16 and needs to buy a car and let me tell you, checks will be written. If he has problems at 19 that he can’t turn to Mom and Dad with — call Uncle Todd, I’ll be there with sage advice and discreet assistance.
Wiping poop off your 2-year old balls? I get a pass. And I’m cashing that pass in now.