Boys grow up to be quarterbacks, girls grow up to be figure skaters

This is a pretty fucking big week for me. Why? Because later this week, a doctor will poke inside mommy and see if I have a penis or a vagina. Or an incredibly elongated clitoris.

Actually, it's a bigger deal for mommy and daddy, since they can start picking names and buying shit that's going to reinforce some arbitrary society-mandated gender roles. Me, I know what I am. Well, that's not true. I have no idea what I am, and I won't really give a shit until I'm in kindergarten and other kids start calling me homophobic slurs.

And gender roles, if you think about, isn't all that artificial. See, girls and boys are wired differently. Specifically, they tend to find their self-worth in different ways - boys want to be scored, girls want to be scored. Let me explain:

• Boys = quarterbacks
  How do men measure each other? I mean, other than taking a tape measure to the dick? By comparing stats. Nobody gives a shit whether one quarterback's more talented than another, but everybody cares about the numbers - total yards, touchdowns and Super Bowl rings. Similarly, guys are compared by their paychecks, the horsepowers on their cars, the number of girls they've fucked. No one cares about the qualitative shit, it's all hard numbers. Quality be damned, it's putting one in the "W" column, or the sperm in the vagina that counts.
  


• Girls = figure skaters
  Chicks are different. Sure, she can do a triple lutz, maybe she can skate faster than everyone else, but what did the Russian judge think? What bout the French judge? While the male psyche operate on pure numbers, the dick-size mentality applying to pretty much everything in life, it's not enough for women to simply do well. They need acknowledgment that they're doing well. That's why you see an otherwise intelligent, attractive girl worrying about what some douche thinks of her. It doesn't really matter where it comes from, girls need validation.

Of course, thats all details. If I turn out to be a boy, I'll sleep with anything with a pulse that gives me the time of the day because, fuck, thats another notch on the bedpost, and if I'm a girl, I'll sleep with anyone who will come over and talk to me because, shit, someone values me!

Take gambling tips from a fetus

Tomorrow begins March Madness, or what daddy tells me is the real Black History Month, which sounds more than a little borderline racist, but hey, he's my racist daddy.

Anyway, for the next three weekends, daddy's going to ignore me and spending all his waking hours getting drunk and yelling at the tall people on television. I figured I'd bone up on this NCAA Tournament shit and see what up the fuck. And you know what? Shit's pretty fucking simple. If you want to win your office pool, here's basically what you have to know:

1. Pick an upset at #5 vs #12 or #6 vs #11
   #1 through #4 in each region are generally quality teams, but #5? They tend to be teams that got by on their reputation or did okay in a weak conference, but had some glaring bad losses, sputtered down the stretch, or did merely okay in a weak power conference. #11 and #12 are usually quality mid-major teams that got fucked because of a loss against a quality team or had some off games.
   
   My upset pick? Winthrop (11) against Notre Dame (6). Big East is fraudulent. Big South? Whatevs man, don't sleep on the mid-mayj.


2. Time zones, motherfucker
   You're talking about college kids who aren't used to traveling cross-country, playing in arenas they've never been in before. Yeah, it's not enough to cause jet lag, but the body clock is still a bitch. So it sucks to be Arizona playing what amounts to early afternoon games in New Orleans or George Washington playing late night in Sacramento.
   
   Which is why you gotta pick Gonzaga (10) over Indiana (7).
   
3. Go with the guy with the balls
   Moreso than in the regular season, you gotta pick the team with a transcendent star. This is different from picking a team with a very very very good player - see: Duke with J.J. Redick, Illinois with Deron Williams. Motherfucker's gotta be transcendent. We're talking Carmelo, Noah, and, to a lesser extent, Sean May.
   
   Yeah, there's Kevin Durant, Tyler Hansbrough and Greg Oden, but I'm thinking Wisconsin with Alando Tucker. Why? Because I'm also picking Butler to beat Florida in the Sweet Sixteen game.

So here's what my Final Four picks are going to look like:
East: North Carolina
South: Ohio State
Midwest: Wisconsin
West: UCLA

Semi-finals:
North Carolina over Ohio State
Wisconsin over UCLA

Final:
Wisconsin over North Carolina

There you have it. Go put down your $200 - you can't lose. I mean, if you do lose, what are you gonna do, come kick a pregnant lady in the belly?

Rosie by any other name would still be fat and obnoxious

If there's one thing expecting parents get excited about, it's naming the baby, and my stupid ass parents are no exception. While my instinct is to shit on anything they take seriously, I think it's justified here. Think about it, they're going to be saying that name an awful lot, like every time I break something expensive or ruin dinner or urinate in the wrong place. Or 17 years now, when I rob a convenience store and crash my car into a parked police cruiser, some stupid ass name they thought was really cute is going to look pretty dumb on the front page of the paper. And when I'm screwing my 9th grade teacher, it would be pretty fucking hard to screm "Kal El" with a straight face, or the O-face, as the case may be.

My point is, the name matters, and I really hope my stupid parents get over their stupidness and pick a name that's not completely stupid-ass. So consider this an open letter to my DNA providers, a humble request that they dust off that little thing called wisdom they stashed away in the nightstand drawer with the 12-pack of condoms that they were apparently saving for a special occasion.

1. Don't think you're smarter than everyone else. Your "creative" name sucks balls.
   
   This is important. You know the aforementioned "Kal El" is going to catch some quality beatdowns in 7th grade. And seriously, "Brooklyn", "Romeo" and fucking "Cruz"?
   
   Which isn't to say unconventional names are all bad. I happen to think "Apple" is perfectly okay, I mean, as long as she doesn't marry someone whose last name is "Andorange" or "Computers" or "Martini". Oh wait, her name is Apple Martin. Poor girl.
   
   But the point is, don't think too hard. If you're saying shit like "I definitely want Brooklyn to be christened, but I don't know into what religion yet", then you're probably not smart enough to think of a good name.


2. That said, don't pick a name that everyone else has.
   Especially the trendy ass names like "Madison", "Blake", and "Neveah" (seriously, what up the fuck?). Remember that Simpsons episode where Bart and Lisa got dropped down to third grade (I don't, because I wasn't even a fucking zygote yet)? They were taking attendance and it went something like "Morgan, Dakota, Ashley, Dakota, Taylor, Tyler, Lisa...". Well, I don't want to be a fucking Morgan, Dakota, Ashley, Taylor or a Tyler. Or Lisa, but only because that's an ugly ass name.
   
   Here's a rule of thumb - if the name you're thinking of is in the Top 10 list of baby names, then you should seriously reconsider, especially if the last name is also generic. You know how many Jacob Williamses and Emily Johnsons are going to be out there? Shit.
   


3. Speaking of last names, try to see how they sound together
   You should know that if your name is "Hunt", then you shouldn't name a kid "Michael". Similarly, you shouldn't name a kid "Richard" if your last name could also be a physical descriptor, like "Long", "Small" or "Bent". Try to sound it out, tell your more vulgar friends and see their reaction. Try to avoid names that rhyme.
   
   Initials are also important. It shouldn't take that much trouble to see if the initials spell out something like "ASS" or "DIK".
   
   And I can't stress the importance of syllable count. "Sarah Gellar"? Not so good - both names have two syllables. But stick "Michelle" in there to break it up, it's fucking perfect.


4. Give me name that can be taken seriously.
   
   "Tiffany" might be fine when you're throwing a Super Sweet Sixteen Slutfest for your spoiled little brat, but how do you think that looks on a resume for an executive position at a major investment firm? Cindy? Max? Sunshine? Cute is fine when you're still paying their bills. Names are fucking forever.
   



5. Don't give me a stripper name.
   
   This is probably the most important rule of all. By all means, avoid names like Destiny, Passion, Crystal and all its variations, Alexis, and pretty much anything named after spices, gemstones and flowers.
   
   Here's the thing - people have a tendency to live up to their names. Joey is going to act like a Joey, Jenny acts like a Jenny and Georges end up like you'd expect a George too. And if you give a girl a stripper name, she will grow up to be a stripper. And the worst part is, if I do end up growing up to be a stripper, it's going to be pretty fucking stupid when I have to take a stage name because "Brandi" with an "-i" was already taken by another dancer.

That shouldn't be too hard, should it? Just pick something simple, but not too common, and be careful of obvious shit like "Ben Dover". Though a part of me wants something like Laquisha so I can say shit like "Nigga please". Hook a fetus up.

Heavy is the head that's bigger than the rest of my body

So I haven't been good about this blogging thing. You'd think with all the free time that I have, and with all the stupid shit that mommy and daddy talk about, I'd be blogging like a motherfucker. But shit, it's not like I have a fully developed brain, or there's a tape recorder up in this bitch (and by "this bitch", I mean mommy), that I can record conversations or leave notes for myself.

Which is to say, lay the fuck off.

So I'm, what, 19 weeks old now? Shit, I'm growing hair now. I still don't know if I'm a boy or a girl, but if I'm a girl, it'll be the end of daddy, because if I come out with a vagina, he's going to be the most paranoid-ass overbearing, overprotective father, ever. I'm going to be a total daddy's girl and try to manipulate every man I meet and never be in a non-superficial relationship. Otherwise, he knows I'm going to end up having some serious abandonment issues, which will lead me to find a father figure in every guy I meet and fuck everything with a pulse and a dick, because that's the only way I'm going to maintain any sort of self worth.

I got my sonogram in a couple of weeks, and mommy and daddy are going to find out what I'm packing down here. That's going to be about the only time in his life he'd be happy to see a penis instead of a vagina.

Yeah, the Oscars were nearly a week ago, but shit, I don't get cable inside the vagina and I really love this picture. How often do you see Ray Charles and the Queen of England and the Speaker City guy hanging out together?