Saturday, September 10, 2011

Da Huz





I just have to give a shout out to the huz. He's sexy. And he cooks. That's right up there with being married to Jude Law if you ask me. Anyway, he blogs about his cooking and you should check it out. He's also blogged about some of the stuff he made for the wee one. That's right, he's sexy, he cooks and he makes stuff. With his hands. Anyway, check him out, but hands off, mamas! :)

www.akegofcurry.blogspot.com

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The Secret


Remember that book, The Secret, that had everyone talking a few years ago? The book that promised to offer keen insight into wealth, love and eternal happiness? The book that after reading you felt like punching someone because you realized the secret was that The Secret was a giant ball of baloney bullshit?

Yeah, well I've got a secret about the whole child-birthing experience.

You're in the delivery room, body strapped to the birthing bed like a psych patient gone AWOL. After those 10lbs of screaming joy drops from your poontak, the nurse and/or doctor asks you, "On a scale of one to 10, how would you describe your pain?"

Clearly this broad has no kids. Or she's deaf. Or she's just a big f*cking idiot. Did you not just hear me scream this child out of me, lady? I know people in RUSSIA could have heard my bellowing if they listened closely enough - you think that shredding felt GOOD?

Throughout my stay, she and her hoard of cohorts check in asking me to identify my pain. One would think that my response would dictate the amount of pain meds I was offered, but nada. After repeatedly advising that my pain is a "10" and being handed an effing Motrin, I realize it's a rhetorical question.

Today I came across this image, courtesy of The Blogess (who is heeelarious, if you get a minute) who was blogging for her day gig. It pretty much surmised my whole pregnancy experience - giving me awful flashbacks to the ladies in blue handing me those little LAME blue pills.

The top half of the chart is post labor.

The bottom half is post post post labor.

See, people tell you that post baby sex is non-existent, boring and pretty much just like getting in the car with a bad cab driver - you watch out the window and pray for the ride to end.

But the SECRET is pretty much the opposite. It's pretty much like the chart to the right. I wonder how many times you have to do it for your vagina to fall off? Do you think if I told those nurses I was a 10 on the sex chart and that my poontak just fell off that they'd actually have given me some good drugs?