Unless you live under a rock on another planet, in a galaxy far far away from this one, you must have heard about Nadya Suleman, the woman who took it upon herself to single-handedly fill all of California’s available space with people.
I will spare you the backstory. You should know it by now if you possess a TV, a radio, a computer, or a pair of ears. I haven’t really followed it that closely myself, but I haven’t had to, since it seems to be following me. Every show I watch, every message board I read, the woman with the magically extensible womb is mentioned. Whether it’s the eight new kids, the six old ones, the NBC interview, the alleged plastic surgery, he doctor who did the procedure, Nadya sure gets the tongues going and the fingers typing.
And sooner or later, I was bound to fall into the trap. Which I just did.
I was lurking on the IMDb View board earlier on, when I came across a thread titled: “Octuplet mom launches website”. I clicked on it, and the OP simply said “She’s looking for donations.” And posted the link for the website.
I kept reading the thread, and a poster mentioned that the website featured a ‘comments’ section, but that it had been kept private, meaning the comments are not visible to the visitors. Another poster said that she’d sent Nadya her “thoughts”. Then another one said she’s done the same thing.
I didn’t want to feel left out of the fun, so I checked the “site”, which is basically a single page featuring pictures of the babies and very few things to click on, besides two donation buttons, and two comments buttons. Oh, and a mailing address, in case you don’t do Paypal and are more of a cheque kind of person.
So evidently, I clicked on the ‘leave a comment’ bit, but you know how wordy I am, right? I just couldn’t help turning what should have been a couple of short, expletives-filled sentences into four pages of verbiage. What can I say…
Since I thought my comment would get rejected by the website for being too damn long, halfway though writing it, I decided to turn it into a blog entry. So I babbled to my heart’s content, and once I was done, I decided to give a shot at submitting it anyway. And it worked.
So here is the “comment” I sent to Nadya Suleman tonight…
I’m writing to you today because you and I have so much in common that I almost see a twin sister in you. For instance, just like you, I tend to do whatever I want, when I want, without giving a thought about the consequences. Even if it doesn’t seem like a good idea, I’ll go ahead anyway. Just like you. We only live once after all, right?
When I was a kid, I was forced to walk or bike everywhere. I grew up speed-depraved, and I now realize that my craving for velocity did a number on my psyche, even as an adult. Like you, I am plagued by an emotional void. Only for me, it’s not about how many kids/per/litter, but rather how many miles/per/hour.
So, throwing all caution to the wind, I went after my dream, and purchased on credit a Lamborghini which I could not afford. My favourite hobby became to drive it over the speed limit around school zones. That behaviour turned out to be expensive: I got six tickets for dangerous driving.
But do you think that threw me off? Well, for a while, it did a little. But after some time, I got depressed, and eventually thought: why, after all, should I let these buzzkills spoil my fun?
So I swung by the local garage, where I asked Joe-the-Mechanic if he could add one horsepower to the engine of my Lamborghini. Even without paying any of my driving tickets, one was all I could afford. So you imagine my joyful surprise when I went to pick up my car, and realized that an anonymous donor had not only paid for for the job, but also for Joe to add not one, not two, but eight extra horsepowers! Eight!!! I heard somewhere that it was possibly illegal to implant that many horsepowers in a Lamborghini, especially when its owner cannot afford it, but I was so happy that I didn’t care!
So I purchased a celebratory magnum of champagne, jammed it between my thighs, and got back behind the wheel. For added excitement, I decided to score a couple of grams of coke, which I sprinkled on the dashboard (I always enjoy a quick snort while I’m waiting for the traffic lights to turn green.)
Unfortunately, the cocaine made me a tad over-confident; as I was entertaining myself pursuing a toddler in a single-lane one way street, BAM, what comes the other way? A police car! Dang! One of the cops asked for my papers and went back to the car to Google me, while the other stuck around to make small-talk. I asked him if I would be in trouble, and he said that since he was corrupted, as far as he was concerned, he didn’t give a damn if I was let off. He then recommended I wipe the cocaine off my dashboard and give it to him, so that if his colleague decided to search my car, I wouldn’t get done for possession.
He helped me finish the magnum of champagne (he wasn’t the one doing the driving; plus, it was a Friday and his shift was almost over), then suggested I put my car in reverse and try to discreetly bugger off. He wished me a good day and was about to walk away, when his colleague came running towards us, screaming: “Joe, Joe! She has previous offenses! Six of them, to be precise!”
And that was it, they took me to the station, and questioned me for what seemed like nine months. It was exhausting. Towards the end, I was nauseous, my entire body felt very heavy and my tummy ached. I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
In the end, I got slapped with eight new driving tickets, on top of the six I already had. Man, I don’t know how I’m gonna pay for them… I personally believe that Joe-the-Mechanic and the guy who paid for the extra horsepowers should somehow be held accountable. But for some reason, the people around me disagree and seem to think that the whole thing is my fault. They keep calling me irresponsible and crazy… I don’t see anything crazy about this myself, because I only was, after all, compensating for all that pain bottled up deep inside me since my speed-less childhood, so I don’t think I deserve all these harsh words. I find people terribly judgmental.
Anyway, I thought our situations were sort of parallel, and that maybe, you’d feel uplifted by some kind words. So Nadya, don’t worry: you’re not crazy and you’re not irresponsible, just somewhat misguided, just like me.
I hope you feel better now.
And if I did make you feel better, do you think it would be appropriate if I asked you for a little favour in return?
My cellmate, Maliah (same name as your second baby, how funny is that, haha!) went on the internet yesterday, and told me that you had launched a donation buttons website, and had scattered photographs of your beautiful octuplets among them.
First, I want to let you know that I find you very clever and creative. I mean, a website about ‘donation buttons’, who would have thought of that, LOL! It’s a super-original concept, I find. I must say that I envy, applaud and respect your skills as a business woman.
As for my favour, given that you’ve already set up two (according to Maliah) donation buttons on your one webpage, do you think it would be possible to add a third that would collect donations for me?
You see, I was already broke when I got my first six driving tickets, but with fourteen in total, I do not know how I’m going to manage. Furthermore, I fear the system might decide to take my Lamborghini away and give it to some boring family who always wanted one, but never was able to indulge.
This is worrying me to no end, and you know as well as me that worrying speeds up the aging process. I will likely need plastic surgery when I get out of here. Another thing that costs an arm and a leg.
So do you think you could do me that favour, Nadya, and set up a donation button for me? In my current predicament, I’m unable to create a Paypal account, not that I would want to do that anyway. I mean, put my money in the bank, so that I end up paying for my fourteen tickets myself, are you kidding me?!
Obviously, I would not be bothering you with this if I was able to do it myself, but I’m not allowed near the prison computer anymore, since the last time I used it, I ended up purchasing a Jaguar online.
I also thought, since it’s worked for you, that I’d too give NBC a shot. I got Maliah to contact them yesterday, to offer them the possibility of interviewing me for $200 000, which is ten times less than what you asked. They weren’t interested, so I told her to reply that I’d do it for free, providing they bail me out. They haven’t gotten back to me yet, but I have a feeling it’s not gonna work out.
So Nadya, it’d really be darling if you could do this. I’ll owe you one. Just state on your website that all donations must be made to “Rebel Without A Clue, Montreal, Canada”, and if you want, you can add that the money will go towards paying for collagen injections for my sure-to-be-horribly-thin-by-the-time-I-get-out-of-here lips.
Nadya, I really appreciate this and I thank you in advance. I hope the future will bring you much happiness and joy, and many, many more children, since you seem to like them so much.
My best to your family, and tell your mother that doing the odd line of coke won’t get her addicted. I’m only saying this because she really looks like she could use a couple.
Rebel Without A clue
(Who’s still less clueless than you.)
So? Whaddaya think? Like my story?
For the record, the above is complete bullshit. I do not take cocaine, I do not torture toddlers, and I don’t even know how to drive.
Oh, and one last thing: don’t bug me with facts about horsepowers and Lamborghinis. I don’t give a shit about cars, how they work, whether or not you can purchase single horsepowers, or even if there is such a thing as a horsepower. I Googled it, and Google said there was, but you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.
Apart from the fucked up story about the crazy single mother of fourteen. That one’s true.
You may send Wonder-Womb your thoughts, money, insults and spare breast milk HERE.