The Miracle of Life

is birth, you say??
Nay, nay friends. 'Tis not.
The miracle of life is actually MEETING someone that you don't feel like plucking out their boogery eyes with a butter knife in the first few minutes of dinner. Then, if you do make it through dinner eye-gouge free you've still got to make it past the awkward moments of a first relationship. The nervous hand holding and the retardedness that we shall call word vomit when you are so fluttery with the buddings of new love.
Then, and ONLY then, if you make it haggard, bleeding, and wanting to curse loudly up the hill that we call dating, you've STILL got to decide if you want to be committed to this person FOR-EVER.
Can you handle the tiny baby sweaters that knit over his teeth in the night? Or the fact that he hocks loogies each and EVERY time he has the opportunity?
Or how about just because he is a BOY . . . and you're going to have to live with a BOY. Let that marinate for a second . . . .living with a smelly, dirty, I don't wash my sheets because I love body grease and dead skin cells BOY.
(*guys* you haven't been forgotten in this post. Girls are pretty di-freakin-sgusting as well, but face it chaps, I'm a girl, and this post is on my side)
So, my dear readers, THIS is the miracle. Finding someone that you can stand enough to actually HAVE sex with, to MAKE the little monster that we all think is such a miraculous happening. I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on being present when his little buggar finds my egg. But the loogies? Yep, I'll be there for each and every one of those.
*SIGH*