Parenting Advice for Kim & Kanye

If you haven't heard the news about Kanye and Kim, then their celebrity spotlight stint didn't work very well for them. Kanye West and Kim Kardashian are pregnant. Well, technically it's Kim who's preggers, but he's (supposedly) the father.

            The results are in...and Kanye, you.... ARE the father!

We feel the same way Kanye.

In an effort to try and help a brotha' out (I'm honing in on my black side here), I thought I'd write down some tips to both Kanye and Kim about what they should and shouldn't teach their baby. Based on previous escapades, of course.

We know you're crazy Kim

• You may up your street cred, but not your fan following, when you upstage someone and steal a microphone when they're accepting an award. Apologies that follow may be seen as forced celebrity manager "parenting".
• Creating a show with all your family could make you famous...for simply doing nothing. However, as you gain popularity you also lose respect. 
• Thinking you're great, and actually being great are very different. Make sure you choose the right option.
• Sex tapes are never a good idea! But they do make your name a common one in the household.
• People will laugh at you if you dare to compare Coldplay to The Beatles, stating Coldplay is just as good, or better, than The Beatles.  
• Defaulting to a fashion "career" is only a good idea if you've gained all those sheep fans
• Twitter can emphasize just how stupid you are- so be careful.
• Don't get married (for the 2nd time) for it only to last 72 days. Because then you meet your baby-daddy and things get messy. It has publicity stunt failure written all over it!
• K's are a popular letter in our families- get used to it
• If you become famous, don't lie about things like your sister's paternity or tweets you've sent... Or just anything in general. 
• Don't be friends with other airhead heiresses
• You can sing about it, but just know...not everyone is a gold digger.
• Lots of perfume lines won't make you seem more upscale...you'll just smell really strongly
• Sometimes it's best to keep your mouth shut... In all aspects.

"Do you think they know how ridiculous we really are?"

Belly Button Munching Monster

I imagine him looking something like the Cookie Monster, but less happy.  And less… blue.  I think he must be quite tiny to fit in there- my belly button.  Oh, I didn’t tell you who I’m referring to: Belly Button Munching Monster.  What?  You haven’t heard of him?  Don’t you have one living in your belly button?  Let me explain who he is and what he does, and maybe you’ll know him.

The Belly Button Munching Monster is similar to Polkaroo (who is a children’s television show character from here in Ontario, Canada) in that he is never seen.  If you know who Polkaroo is, this reference will make total sense to you and you may even have fond memories of watching the male host of Polka Dot Door miss Polkaroo again.  If you don’t know him, and think I’m crazy, just know that the Belly Button Munching Monster is never seen.

If you’re unfamiliar with him (or her, I’m sure they have females BBMMs, or how else would they procreate? I can just confirm that mine is male… don’t ask me how.), he lives in your belly button and eats small tiny, just noticeable holes in your shirts.  Holes that are small enough you don’t notice them when you put the shirt on, but later in the day when you look at yourself you think perhaps you’ve spilled something on yourself, and instead it’s a teeny tiny little hole.  “Crapola! How’d that even happen?”  This is how I came to realize I totally have a BBMM.  And once they’re in there (your belly button) there is no removing them.  He’s harmless enough, I suppose.  Though it’s starting to get annoying that I’ve got holes in so many shirts.  Why can’t he be more productive, and eat belly button lint instead?

I’ve decided I’m ok with him hanging out.  I’d appreciate it if he didn’t eat my shirts, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.  And I’d hate to see the little guy starve.  So I let me Belly Button Munching Monster, live freely in my belly button, creating holes in my shirts.

Or maybe it’s just my belt?