If you were here now, in an overheated attic internet hovel in Marrakech, you would hear Lara gushing over some very small New Yorkers named Bobo Bean* and Gracie. If you were Claire, more precisely, you would constantly hear about the antics of these two individuals in very high pitched squeals. You then would also listen to said smurfs say unintelligible things over Skype to Lara, aka Auntie Ya. And maybe you, too, would think about the fact that Lara will never like anyones future children - maybe not even hers for that matter - as much as these two mini-humans.
The moral of this story is to have children young, so Lara still likes them and buys them mini Pumas.
*Bobo Bean is technically named John, although he was going to be named Asa. He is something like three + years old, and was recently the star in a play. The astral body, Laras brother explained to her, when she got excited assuming he was, as ever, the best child actor of those available. Frankly, I would like to see the script for such a production. Finally, the apostrophe key on the Moroccan compus still eludes us.
1 comment:
you so fugly! (not)
heck ya, c
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