I'm totally bummed out that I couldn't come up with a suitably acidic comment for this pic.
FIGHT BREEDISM....
I like to call this pic an Octomoron - an Octomom oxymoron
Octomom is coming!
Maybe. Possibly. Allegedly.
Apparently she’s a bit over the judgment and the tsk-tsking and the tut-tutting in the US of A, and so she’s considering a move down under. According to her uncle who lives here in Australia.
I would like to put my hand up and volunteer the house next door to mine.
It would be nice to have someone in the ‘hood whose kids emit more noise than my own. I’m assuming this would be the case on account of the 386 offspring she has spawned.
I’m kidding.
I know she’s only spawned 14.
Only.
But seriously, my plan is this –
1. Strike up a friendship over the fence, bonding and lamenting over our collective feral children and the volume of laundry/waste/bodily fluids/noise pollution they create.
2. Congratulate her on her use of Nannies. Let her know I’m all for it. The more the better. But make sure not to disclose any details about our beloved Bali Nanny. She's mine.
3. And then, when she’s not looking, nudge my three through the newly crafted one-way door in the fence.
I figure that neither she nor her team of Nannies will notice just three more kids in the mix.
Fool proof.
And genius on my part, if I do say so myself, in making the covert fence door a one-way thing. No handles or visible evidence on her side of the fence.
So, who wants to help me carry over the enormous welcome basket of muffins for 15?
You forgot one. Octomom becomes Septupletmom
Oh how easy it would be to slip one of The Feral Threesome in that vacant seat. Clearly a like-minded mother who parents by the same distracted method as I do.
