Eliza, damn you, your comment is a thorn in my side. You suggest that a weekly post shouldn't be outside the short-armed reach of a Slacker. And yet lately it is.
At first I thought: Ha, weekly posts are no problem. (Phase 1: Denial)
Next, I felt curmudgeonly. Damn this blog and its constant need of updating! (Phase 2: Anger)
And lastly, grief. And self-flagellation. I cursed my feeble willpower for buckling under the slightest weight of, say, Intervention. Or a cocktail. (Phase 3: acceptance)
So anyway, here's my update: I can't do the damn adoption thing.
Firstly let me thank my readership for the excellent information you provided on second parent adoption. And secondly, I'll mention that I am frankly humbled by your depth of knowledge and your connections; those of you affiliated with the lesbian mafia of NYC are, like, hot.
But I just can't do it. I refuse to participate in this nonsense. There is no doubt in my mind that if I submit to the process I will, at one stage or another, do something inappropriate (i.e. listing a brothel as a former address, or telling the home visit social worker that my doberman eats babies for breakfast). And inappropriate behavior will likely fuck up my chances of becoming Le Fetus' legal parent. So I'm gonna try not to go there. I'd rather just wing this shiz.
However, I am considering dressing in drag at the hospital (my name can be somewhat androgynous, so this could work) and seeing where that takes us.
Stay tuned for that, friends. The thrills just don't die around here.