A utopian carrot guides the brainwashed donkey

I think I may have been insulted by a three year old. I know, I know, I have all the maternal instincts of a dragon lizard (given a chance, they eat their young) and am therefore necessarily "doomed to a life of regretful yearning", and I will definitely become "a shrivelled, twisted and vicious old woman driven by resentment and bitterness." (There is also usually mention of cats. Not sure where the cats come into it - some sort of bizarre contraceptive process?) Whatever, I'd still rather shave my head with a cheese grater while chewing on tinfoil than have kids, but my point was that just like a typical male, he calls me and then after a minute whines "I don't wan tawk him any-mowa, I tawk to him morrow" as he hands the phone to his mom.

Yeah, that's right. He called me a him. So what. He has issues, clearly. I mean we're talking about a boy who drinks out of a sippycup, is afraid of Curious George and allways has jam on his hands (even when there isn't any jam in the house, he get's jam on his hands. I can't deal with jam-hands.). Whatever,  I DO have a big lesbian following, and for whatever reasons they show me love and I'm never going to shun, disrespect or neglect anybody who shows me genuine non-psychotic love, so maybe I DO have a little butch in me.