October 11th, 2004


October Birthday Theory.

October’s turned into the Weddings and Birthdays month.

I guess October makes sense for weddings as it’s a lot cooler than the sweltering summer months, which means a lot less guys drowning in their own sweat-drenched suits. Plus it’s not as frigid as the winter months, which means a lot less erect female nipples penetrating designer fabric and stabbing innocent bystanders.

As for all these damn birthdays: The common theory is that October babies were conceived around February, which is not only where Valentine's Day falls, but it’s also a “Freezing couples groining each other for added warmth” month. A similar theory is that the bad weather forces the couple to stay at home more often, and they fornicate out of sheer boredom. This “Boning for heat or leisure” theory also supposedly explains why there are so many September birthdays, which is when I was born. If my parents had a heater or an Xbox, I might not have existed.

Paul (naka_chan), whose birthday was this past Saturday, is one of the believers of this theory. While duct-taping a rubber hose to his mouth and force-feeding him Goose, I explained to him why this theory didn’t make sense to me.

First of all, the theory seems to imply that people have much more sex when it’s cold outside versus when it’s warmer. I don’t record every time I have intercourse on some sex spreadsheet, but I’m pretty sure my frequency doesn’t increase or decrease based on the season. If anything, people hump more during the hotter months, when everybody’s spraying each other with water and rubbing ice cubes suggestively over their genitalia.

In fact, I think the primary culprit for winter pregnancies isn’t cold or boredom, it’s laziness and depression. Particularly when it comes to birth control. The chilly, dark weather makes people more sluggish and as a result, maybe the guy doesn’t have the energy to go all the way across the room to fetch a condom. Maybe the woman looks outside at the grey sky and dead trees, and forgets to take her pill. Or maybe a combination of ennui and melancholy drives the husband and wife to try to kill themselves; but, because suicide requires too much effort, they opt to have kids instead.

Or maybe, just maybe, I’m talking out of my anus.

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