I'm onto you, Hollywood. OR: Ashlee Simpson-Wentz's Maternity style!!!!1

I just got finished watching the delightful indie (if not indie-styled) film "Away We Go" starring former SNLer and Rental Maya Rudolf, playing a 30-something expectant mother. Opposite her is the guy who plays the "Tim" Character on the US version of the Office ("Jim"), John Krasinski as her quirky (but not in an trite indie film kind of way) but overall likable boyfriend. It was very capably written by Dave Eggers of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" fame (who also co-wrote the upcoming pant-crappingly awesome looking "Where the wild things Are") and his wife.

I found the film really enjoyable. Both leads give strong performances, and smaller standout roles from Alison Janney and Maggie Gyllenhaal are particularly well done. It was able to hit that hard to reach balance, like Juno before it, between being laugh out loud funny but also really touching and sweet.

But it got me to thinking...many of my favorite films of the past few years, from the aforementioned Juno to Knocked Up (the "36 Chambers" of Apatow films) and now this one all seem to have a common theme: Fashionable young go-getters getting accidentally pregnant and keeping the child.

Does Hollywood secretly fear that there aren't enough young hipsters breeding? Do indie film makers fear that if they're not diligent, in a single generation their genre's entire demographic could be wiped out? Was Mike Judge's fabulous "Idiocracy" sabotaged by Hollywood for hitting this concept too on the nose? Is there a conspiracy to make Pregnancy hip? Will Urban outfitters soon sprout maternity departments?

Well, hate to let you down, secret shadowy Hollywood overlords, but I know one person your little plot will not be working on: Me.

I'm not going to be the second lead character who hears of his entire life being flushed down a toilet and reacts quirkily, or with hilarious flippantness. I've learned a lot from movies; I never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line, and I never turn around to look when things explode behind me, but this is where I draw the line. My foot is down. I absolutely refuse. Sure, it may look like one of life's madcap adventures in the movies, but in real life it sounds downright horrifying to me.

If a some sort of supernatural magic entity, like a Genie, or Cris Angel (that douche) came to me and said I had a choice between being told that I'm responsible for a baby, OR that 1 random night in the next calender month, my house would be violently invaded, you know what I would do? I'd go out the next day and buy a high quality baseball bat, and a couple feet of barbed wire. I'd wrap the barbed wire around the tip of the bat, keep it close by. Then, I would sleep soundly for the next 30 days with the calming reassurance that within a month everything will be back to normal.

Here's an artists rendering:



You heard it here first: 2 minutes of frightened bat assault far outweighs raising a child.