celebrity baby shower cards
OK, here's the premise.
Susie has famous friends and they wrote her cards for her baby shower.
Dear Susie,
Oh my gosh, what an incredible, special, magical blessing you're about to experience with your sweet, sweet angel!!!
Every day when you wake up to that sweet, sweet angel face it's going to be an exciting, joyful, and wonderful adventure, and there's no one else in the world who will be a better mommy to your darling sweet angel baby than you.
Love,
Mandy
PS - Caaaaaaaaan't waaaaaaaaaaait to meet that sweeeeet aaaaangel baaaaaaby!!!!!!
PPS - Can I babysit???? PLEEEEEEASE??? :) :) :)
___
Dear Susie,
You're about to embark on the central journey of your life. This is a critical time of self-reflection. A time of challenge, a time of serious, important questions:
Who am I? What kind of mother am I going to be? How will I teach my child to be a citizen of the world, in the world but not OF the world? Would I rather my child be smart, successful, or kind? Will he vote Tea Party or merely Republican?
Do I have what it takes to act as a consistent moral compass to this child, who will be born into this cruel, terrifying world, raw and unmolded and vulnerable to the influences of hip-hop music, socialist propaganda, and Satanic literature? When I look back on my life will I regret having become a mother? Will I regret other things? Like DRINKING RED WINE during my pregnancy? (I was there. I saw you. I don't care if it was just one sip.)
I'm going to share a secret with you - there are no answers. Enjoy the journey. The only advice I can give you is to approach this experience with an open heart and an inquisitive mind. Also, stop poisoning your baby with alcohol because if he is deformed when he is born there will be some VERY tough questions. Congressional hearing style.
Aunt Condie
PS - Your mother wouldn't want me to tell you this, but she drank champagne when she was pregnant with your brother. Need I go on?
___
Dear Susie,
Buckle the fuck up. Shit's about to get real.
It's going to be hard. No, you know what? Blow and champagne hangovers are hard. Seeing your career implode is hard. Running into your ex-girlfriend right after hot yoga is hard. THIS is going to be mother-fucking impossible.
Your body is going to look like a melty snowman.
Sleep?HA! Don't make me LAUGH! But I've got something if you need to stay awake. Call me.
You WILL. Be covered. In shit. Do yourself a favor and just throw away anything that needs to be dry cleaned.
Also, you'll worry about everything. You'll be all "Is the baby dead in his crib??? We have to check!!!" and your husband will be all "UGH Susie you're so dramatic, go to SLEEP, I'm sure the baby isn't dead," but then he'll make YOU get up and check because he's scared he's going to go in and find a dead baby and then you'll never forgive him. Because that shit happens. Sorry. Let me know if you need a divorce.
And when you are holding that fistful of prescription pills while the shower runs and the baby is screaming and you're looking at a withered, sunken, dried-up shell of who you used to be in the bathroom mirror, I want you to know that you can call me. I love you, girl!
Love,
Linds
PS - The Vodka is a joke kind of. If you don't want it let me know.