They’re Lethal At Eight Months, and I Do Mean Lethal.

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep a secret? It’s hard. Like REALLY hard. I’m not a secretive person. It’s just not part of who I am. I have no air of mystery about me. I like to share every thought that crosses my mind with everyone I know. I told the entire class the day I got my first period. Jabbering to my loved ones and practical strangers in person isn’t enough anymore. Now I feel the compulsion to publically discuss my bowel movements with the internet via blog.

ANYWAY. My point is that I have been harboring a secret for two whole weeks and it has been gnawing at my innards with such vehemence I thought it was going to chew its way out of my brain and expose itself to the world without my permission. Now I have official written consent to share and let me tell you, it is as cathartic as a hangover pooh:

BOLOGNA DONE GOT HERSELF KNOCKED UP.

Technically, she’s not knocked up because she is lawfully married in the eyes of Yahweh and also the state of New Jersey but that does not change the fact that she is growing a human life form in her private parts which will join us on the outside on September 3, 2009. The rest is just semantics.

I obtained this intelligence when I went to visit her for her birthday last month in the Jerz. While I hung around imbibing my post-sketchy-Amtrak-regional-train rumndietcokes, she showed me her ultrasound which looked something like this:

So it is with great pleasure (and my sincerest apologies to my future niece/nephew) that I introduce Nugget, my sister’s fetus who she thought resembled a dino chicken nugget on the sonogram. Everyone give Bologna a hearty congrats for doing what Michael Crichton envisioned and prepare yourselves for an overload of Jurassic Park quotes!