I’m sorry Kennedy Urlacher, for painting your toenails blue and forcing you to wear pink Cinderella diapers. As you can see from daddy’s Old Spice commercial, he went through a bit of an awkward phase himself, one that ultimately shaped him for the better. Not having suffered the slings and arrows of the brutal mocking of my peers, I wouldn’t be the Paris-banging fading star for a middling team that I am today. There’s something to be said for adversity is all, and I thought you had it too easy up to this point. Beats horse collaring you on the kitchen floor, I think.
I’m sorry I didn’t pick a better shade of blue. Upon further reflection, I should have picked something closer to the Bears color. Not my fault exactly. You know how Glidden has those team paints? Well Glidden doesn’t make toenail polish, and for that I’m sorry. Blue is still a boy’s color, though, so at least it’s got that gender-affirming aspect to it. And of course it doesn’t make him gay. Gay is something you learn during D&D sessions at Billy McMullan’s house when you’re in the 3rd grade.
I know Cinderella on the diapers was a particularly, maybe even excessively, humiliating touch, and, again, sorry. I look at the array of Disney princesses and, almost without exception, I get a raging fucking hard-on. Pocahontas? I’d bury my face a yard-deep in that ass. Mulan? Jasmine? Ariel? Belle? Jesus, I’d give it all back to dogpile them once in a kiddie pool full of caramel. But Cinderella? Even all decked out in the dress and shit, she’s a pretty plain-looking broad. The last thing I want is to look at my son’s diapers and get in an erection. No reason to scar the both of us, kiddo.
Anyway, I’m sorry for the diapers. And sorry for not changing them. I didn’t know you had to do that.