It's a boy. (Side Note: Nearly 1/2 of the National Enquirer's psychics were right! Who says this stuff doesn't work?)
Just thought you'd want to know, since breathless updates on this brain damaged twat is the only important part of your day you probably haven't had yet.
(Congrats, ya' skanky little bint!)
Also, and for no apparent reason, I noticed that lately the highway department has been putting up "what's the friggin' problem" signs on highways to notify everyone why they're sitting in traffic with their thumbs up their asses, idling their $3.00/gal gas away, instead of actually getting anywhere. For example:
In Our Next Episode: Kevin's Home Movies Of The Magical Event! [(Move Over Paris!) (What! You thought I meant movies of the BIRTH?!?!?! EWWWWW!)]
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