Let me preface this entire recounting of todays events by telling you I am sick and to cut me a break, but anyway...
I had a shoot for Target this morning a whopping 5 blocks from our house. Yours truly was a total disaster as dad tried to dress me. Even the promise of toys and lollipops couldn't convince me to be a well behaved model. I was insisting that we not have pictures taken. That's the polite way of saying I was flailing on the ground half dressed, trying to rip my diaper off screaming "NO PICTURES" After a struggle of epic proportions we left the house and dad had a feeling it might go ok -- he's a sucker and an optimist.
We get to the shoot which is a lovely studio in Chelsea Market. I refused to leave the stroller and started asking to go home as soon as we walked in. Dad eventually tricked me and got me out of the stroller. I would only be carried after I got suckered out of my chariot. I do this by screaming "pick up, pick up" over and over. Once up in his arms and my head above his left shoulder I taught the jerk (daddy) a lesson and wiped my snotty nose all over the shoulder of his sweater. It's my move when I'm pissed. The people felt so badly for me they let me go home. I was in and out in 15-20 minutes max.
Heres where my genius comes into play. Dad still took me to the bookstore downstairs and bought me a puzzle. As my buddy Charlie Sheen would say "WINNING" 20 minutes work, 400 bucks for just being handsome and showing up AND a present from the parents. Maybe I have tigerblood too?
Since I can't let mom be the only bread winner in the family I am trying to find another career. I think I might have found my calling. Do you guys think stand up comedy is in my future?
If you can't understand my joke blame the cameraman (dad) The joke goes like this:
Knock Knock,
Who's there?
Milk Chocolate.
AWESOME right?
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