Vermonster Good Thyme

At the end of the day, the only thing that matters more in life than Lindsay Lohan and her tantalizing thighs is family. Yer mum and dad. Yer bro and sis. Yer bubbie and yer panpa. Yer auntie and uncle grambo. Yer nieces and nepotism. Cherish them all dear readers, for they are your kin folk and knives, and if they love you, well maybe they’ll send you presents for your birthday or around Kwanzaa time. This past weak end was spent cherishing, gorging, and jumping up and down on a trampoline in lovely/rural Bennington, Vermont, with so many of such peoples on mees family tree, who are quite near and dear to me heart. And since I don’t have a wife or significant other to bring to the family ho-down, I got to play with my 7,462 young cousins (ages ranged from real young to about maybe 12). My cousins’ Nate and Nicky’s perfect little 4-year-old darling of a daughter, Emma (pictured), changed my outlook on the next few years of me life. She was quite attached to me and I was to her. And when I say attached, I mean literally attached. Like when I’d walk around, she’d follow me and tug on my shirt and ask me in her angelic voice if I wanted to sit on the couch, which I had no problem doing as it’s my favorite hobby next to basket weaving, and then when we’d sit on the couch and she’d smile wide at me and then hug me around the neck. She’d then turn her head away from me and then turn back and then hug me all over again. This would happen about every 17.6 seconds, eggcept for when I was smoking endless amounts of really cheaply priced Vermont cigarettes. Emma even asked if I wanted to be her girlfriend. No one has ever asked me that before. These 21st century kids, you go! When we parted ways this morning, Emma gave me some going away presents. I got a rubber bracelet, a sticker, some of her lip gloss smeared on my white polo, and a picture she drew of the two of us (apparently I have a circle in the middle of my forehead). The smile couldn’t be erased from my face. And on the road back to eNwhYCee, my mission was clear: I want to have a baby, especially a beautiful daughter, and as soon as humanly possible. This is where you all come in. I need your help. Help me, help… me. A son won’t do (as of now), but I aint Henry the VIII, so you’ll get to keep yer head. And if yer lucky, you may just end up being The Thigh Master’s baby’s momma.

Pee es – not only is Emma umcredible, but so are the rest of my little cousins. They rule more than a billion million yard sticks. Czech out these amazing photos of lil Joshie at his 6th b-day party, months ago.