Unless they can walk, eat, dress, s***, and talk on their own, keep your goddamn self-basting hideous little pot-roasts away from me, thanks, because they’re not even humans in my eyes yet.

Your baby isn’t cute. It looked like Winston Churchill when it ruined a perfectly good c*** and toughened up perfectly good dripping n******, and now it’ll ruin your personality as you turn into nothing beyond a crotchloaf support device with a massive superiority complex for having a working reproductive system.

“Do you have kids?”

No, because I’d like to have fun on my own terms. THAT’S why I work so hard.