WTF?! Wednesday: Red-headed, push-button baby.

Have you ever wondered what your next child might look like? Well, your little genetic miracle is no longer a mystery thanks to online baby makers. With a push of a button, you can procreate with your spouse-- your friend's spouse -- sizzling celebs -- even animals! Baby makers let you shtup practically anything and provide the visual result. Even better, with these online apps, there's no need to shave your legs, get drunk, turn the lights off or hike the Appalachian Trail. You can do it while the kids, friends and family are watching.

The other day, I made babies with Brad Pitt, David Beckham and Marilyn Manson (just curious, really). The result? Rather unexpected. The experience? Very one-sided. The cutest kid came from the most heinous pairing. And I began to wonder, what, exactly, is the formula for cuteness? Do two hotties = 1 cute kid? Or, since two negatives equal a positive, do two fugly people = 1 cute kid? What about Beauty + The Beast? What the hell happens then, Disney? Wolfman Jack or the bearded lady?

Well, I have an answer, sort of. You get Verne Troyer -- at least for four weeks. Then, your little midgets get cuter if you're lucky. Whether it stays that way is anyone's guess. And, that's what happened to us. Our babies had faces made for radio, but are currently on the upswing.

That's why Mike and I never tried for a third. We rolled the dice twice and got lucky. We wrung every good gene to get what we got. The third would be a cretin. A genetic leftover. Or worse: 100% me.

That's why I dig virtual baby makers. No real risk! I plugged in the best photos of Mike and me that I could find. I hit enter and waited. 30 seconds later, a bouncing baby appeared.

WTF?!



We made a red head. Correction. I made the redhead. Mike wasn't a willing participant. Hell, he wasn't even in the house. What would he say? Would he believe this baby was ours? And, the mailman jokes! I couldn't take it. Shit happens. But, not in this hizzouse. I hit delete. Then, the guilt set in. Would the Pro-CyberBaby-Life movement start spamming my Gmail account? Did I need extra Norton 360 protection? Oh, Babymaker, why did I dabble? I'm now filled with cyber-remorse. Time to Twitter the counselor.


Meet little Yomanson!


Eat your heart out, Angelina.


Oops, I did it again.


Too many babies. Approaching Octomom creepiness now.