I'm Just Sayin'...


Okay, so I wrote this mumbo jumbo awhile ago but never posted it because I wasn’t sure I really wanted to make jokes about evolution because, really, I didn’t want to inadvertently post something thought-provoking.  If at any point while reading this you find yourself thinking, please log off, watch two episodes of Maury Povich, then come back.  If after thoughtful consideration we decide as a group the Declaration of Independence was more humorous than this post, I’ll bounce back tomorrow with some bad ass knock-knock jokes.

And here it is…

I wonder if in the spirit of evolution, some millions of years down the road children might be born with SPF 30 brims protruding from their skulls so we can just scratch the whole mythical concept of hats on children.  I know I’ve seen what appears to be children wearing hats, but I realize this is just a figment of my imagination, like toddlers sitting through circle time.

While we’re on the subject of biological upgrades, maybe a built-in feature whereby the degree of difficulty in achieving cute hair for your child is directly proportionate to the parents’ hair quotient ability level.  So if the parent in question is not well-suited to adequately style the hair of a two-year-old girl with two cowlicks, for example, she would not give birth to a child with two cowlicks.  Rather, this completely hypothetical person would maybe have a daughter who stayed bald until the teen years when she was able to do her own hair just before sneaking out of a second floor window, climbing down a ladder and bolting to the nearest mailbox to enter her dad in a “Father of the Year” contest, that he would eventually win.  Wait.  That wasn’t us.  “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!”


Exhibit A: This picture was taken immediately after
a cow licked Bam Bam's forehead. 

I’m going out on a limb here and boldly predicting an evolutionary trend that once and for all addresses the age-old issue of all orange baby food that when consumed, turns the baby’s nose orange.  I don’t see the contribution strained carrots are making to this world we call home, so I’m off to the dinosaur museum to see if I can get to the bottom of this. 


Exhibit B: Crusher's nose two years ago.  He loved him
some Stage 2 carrots. 

First I have to use the navigation system in my minivan to locate the closest dinosaur museum.  Strained carrots, unnatural.  GPS, totally evolutionarily sound.

Knock-knock.

Who’s there?

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One of my favorite blogging buddies is off lollygagging in Paris so I'm blogsitting for her today.  I've cross-posted this to her blog at Gray Matter Matters.  If you don't regularly read her blog, you're missing out! 

 

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