You Are Not The Father

"My sperm, they've still got it!" - Larry King to the surprise of everyone ever.

I think Womb Mate might have some explaining to do.

Vote Or She WILL Kill You.

I'm sending this blog post on behalf of Womb Mate who has alerted me to the fact that if I didn't share it and if y'all didn't vote, she would kill all of us. And after knowing her for all of her life, she will do it. She'll straight up murder y'all.

She entered my Nephew, the adorable devil, into some contest about who has the cutest dirty kid and you can possibly win some money for it and she promised me that if she won the money she'd, y'know, not throw some of it my way so I'll get to karate chop her in the uterus sometime in the future for not sharing. And that would be freakin' sweet.

And so far the winner of it is some stinky old kid doing nothing cute at all because they are old and not baby cute.

My Nephew? He's baby cute.

So go vote here.

OR WE WILL ALL DIE.

Just Because I'm Drunk Doesn't Mean I Still Don't Care.

So, it seems again I am writing another blog post about how "I'm still alive, just too cool to hang out with you blog people because I HAVE A LIFE!" and y'know what? Even I am getting sick of it.

I should really be posting here more because my life is pretty exciting right now. Like, did I mention that I won some money to make a Short Horror Film for a festival? OF COURSE I DIDN'T! Because I've been neglecting telling these stories.

Y'all should really add me to facebook because I always talk there about the cool shit going on.

Right now I'm on summer break from school and you know what I did? I went and hung out with a baby for almost a week. Well, I'm still hanging out with a baby. Womb Mate's baby who is now a year old and just a monster. But a loveable monster who shrieks and points and wobbles around on his fat legs like a belligerent drunk.

I also most likely got a job editing professionally. How did I manage to pull that off? BECAUSE I AM AWESOME. And I sent a lot of emails. A lot of emails.

I'm going to start posting more (I know, I know, I said this a lot already) and update what is going on in Film School and my life.

I promise.

And I may or may not be lying on that promise. WE SHALL SEE.

This Right Here Is My Future

Online Dating: It's A Mess Out There

The following is a service announcement about what happens when you let your siblings discover funny computer programs that can hideously deform them.

It was only natural that they would make a serious of online dating profiles.

And it was only a given that I'd post it all over the Internet.

I'm Back Just To Turn Around & Do It All Again

You never realize how much siblings you really have until they are all crammed together inside of a cabin that can comfortably fit three people and a bathroom that at any moment could destroy the septic system. It felt like a can of sardines, really, the whole time I was visiting my parents.

Oh what? Visiting my parents? Yeah, that's totally where I have been for the last week. I flew down to see my dad in the hospital because it was all "Oh, he's not doing good" and "Holy shit, is his heart going to explode?" so I hopped on a plane after telling The Pilot "This shit better be all packed by the time I get back!" and met up with my siblings and parents and one baby.

It was a whirlwind trip that ended too soon and then I had to come back only to turn around and move to BC in two and a half days. It feels insane for having to come back to Alberta just to leave province again, but that's how I roll apparently.

But regardless, after a few scary days my dad is doing a lot better and we all felt comfortable going to our separate homes on Sunday.

Later this week I'll share the stupid adventures that came out of having all five of my siblings in the same roof and how I got to sit next to a chain saw artist on the plane.

But for now? Now I will sleep under my desk and wait for my last two days of work to be over.

If I were Him, I'd Be Concerned About Poop Too

Over the weekend my dad was hospitalized because he's had some type of cold or flu for three weeks and when my mom and Womb Mate finally convinced him to go to the doctor to figure out what it was, they told him it was just a bad case of a virus that was going around and "Here, take some happy time pills and this should all just go away." and he took the pills.

Except they weren't happy time pills, they were more like "We are going to make things that much worse that we will actually attempt to kill you in your sleep, and you know what? That's because WE FUCKING HATE YOU!" and then they kicked his dog in the face while they were at it. He couldn't breathe in his sleep and every time he would fall asleep it was a mini suffocation.

So my mom took him into the emergency room again and the doctors were basically "Oh shit, OK, we were wrong. That cold? Yeah, totally a bunch of fluid around your lungs and your heart is doing something stupid that we may or may not want to shock it straight or, you know, cut you open and give you a ROBOT HEART! We don't know, but I'm sure it will be pretty fucking cool." and kept him in the emergency room. And then they stuck him full of needles and made the comment that they want to move him to a bigger hospital but the bigger hospital is so full of crackheads there isn't room for him. So they are sort of stuck of what to do.

Naturally, this caused a lot of family to mobilize that maybe shouldn't have mobilized and when it was brought to my dads attention of if he wanted to have a bunch of guests descend upon their cabin his answer was, "I don't want to have too much stress on the septic tank." because, naturally, when you are faced with probably getting a robot heart you don't want people to show up and cause your poop bucket to over flow.

Which, honestly, is a typical Tristachio Dad thing to say.

Womb Mate and I are torn. She lives five hours away and she wants to go but she's also got this baby that is sort of attached to her tit and there is a chance he could catch the bad cold that started all of this for my dad and that'd be a shitty thing to happen. I also happen to live a province away, have work, and am in the middle of a move. I'd love to drop all my shit and take off but then the poor Pilot would be stuck handling all of it on his own. Even though he sympathizes and has told me to take off if I need too.

This is one of the reasons why I am moving to BC in the first place, to be closer to family so it's not such a hard thing to deal with being so far away.

But then again, it's always nice to be closer in attempts to overflow that septic tank. You know, make a nice poop lake on his lawn.

Full of poop.

Womb Mate; An Undiscovered Rhodes Scholar. Pt. 3

Considering the fact that the last two Wednesdays I pretty much used up the stories that the Womb Mate had written down in the box of her belongings I searched through, I was at a loss of what to post because I didn't have anything else to write. So I went to the Womb Mate and said, " Little sister, I have nothing to post today and because of that I'm going to have to close down my blog and stop my Internet fame." and she who shared a womb with me once but not really shared because I was born before her said, "I shall tell you another story child, gather around my fireplace and shut your fucking face while I tell you this awesome tale."

So I present to you the next story of the Womb Mate; An Undiscovered Rhodes Scholar.

The Bum Boat Pirate

Once upon a time in the great big Caribbean sea there was a pirate or two or four. However many that needs to be put in the story to make this work. He had a really really ugly boat so all the other pirates would call him The “Ugly Boat Bum Pirate”.

Since he got called The Ugly Boat Bum Pirate he wanted to kill them all. So, he hired a bunch of assignation mermaids to do his job.

So one glowy moon night there were three mermaids, one of which was one legged, swam to the other amazing awesome boats with three drunken pirates on board. They back flipped out of the water and on to the ship like ninjas, and they threw a bunch of fish eggs on the pirates. And then peed all over their boat and mermaid pee is corrosive. There for causing their ship to start disintegrated.

Then they wrapped the pirates in seaweed while distracting them with their big coconut boobs. All the pirates were screaming, “Darn that Bum Pirate, he’s got to be behind this. No pun intended. If that’s even a pun.”

So, they were thrown overboard by the mermaids and they have a back-up of an entourage of Balooga Whales also known as “Agent Zeros”. And they threw the seaweed-infested pirates onto the whales back. And then the whales glided to the Bum Pirate butt pounding boat.

And the Bum Pirate called all of the other seaweed-infested pirates to come on to his boat. He then locked them into a room filled with his farts that have been sitting there for ten years waiting for this moment. And it’s really stinky because he might have scurvy. We don’t know what he has. But it’s bad. And we don’t know if it was from Bum Piracy or not.

In the fart chamber as soon as he opened it up, green gas seeped out of it and he threw the pirates into the chamber. It was like a fart holocaust. And then the pirates died by choking on anal juice that evaporated into gas . 

So the Bum Pirate jumped onto his entourage of whales and took the mermaids back to the disintegrated mermaid pee boats. He made the mermaids spit on the boats to reverse the boats and he whipped the mermaids so they would cry and spit all over the boats to renovate them to good enough condition for a Captain Bum Pirate.

Once the boats were restored he walked over to the mermaids and he stepped on them with his peg leg and with his good leg, he booted them off the boat and said “GEET!” and just as he went to go sail away his heart blew apart and he died of a heart attack.

The end.

Anal juices turned into gas, y'all! I'll just let that seep in.

Womb Mate; An Undiscovered Rhodes Scholar. Pt. 2

Let's once again delve into the mind of my Womb Mate circa 1999 and see just what Opus is awaiting us because, honestly, despite the fact it's riddled with spelling mistakes that make me fondly remember what she types to me on Facebook in the present, it still takes my breath away over the level of emotion and symbolism she was able to use at such a young, tender age.

Our Little New House

It all started when my dad told us we were moving. 

"What! We can't move. I lived here all my life." My sister said. 

We got all packed up. We were on the road. When we got there everyone was so unhappy. 

"Lets go home. I dont like it here." I yelled at the top of my lungs.

"Womb Mate, Shut up!" Dad yelled. 

When we got to the new house, it was a big house.

"That's a big house." my sister said.

We all settled in.

The End.

I'm not sure what you'd consider angsty and pre-tween rage, but that right there? That totally is some really hard rage going on. Was it because she was uprooted at a tender age and forced to start a new? Or was it the poignant part where our dad told her to shut up? Reading this is like reading to the bottom of your soul.

That, or reading the first essay in Special Ed.

Womb Mate; An Undiscovered Rhodes Scholar.

While digging through our guest room in an attempt to start decluttering our shit, The Pilot and I came across a big box of shit that was titled "Womb Mate" and to my curiosity I pulled it out and decided I had to snoop. Which, of course, is what older siblings do and it was in my house it basically consisted of "mine".

However, I called her up on Skype to get an insight over what I was reading and finding in this box. Even though it was full of crap (Which, I must assure you she says is all great wonders and needs to be kept) I found a gem. A gem of stories.

Stories, dear readers, she's graciously allowed me to share with you on the blog. And by "allow" I mean she demanded because she was all "I'm super smart and funny and your readers need to share in my super smartness." and then she sang the Kit Kat song until my ears bled and I gave in.

I present to you: "The New Dog".

The New Dog

Once a pon a time there was a little boy named Jack. He lived in Mackenzie, BC. He always wanted a dog. He would bag and bag his parents for a dog. But they would say "NO!". Finilly one day his dad said "we are going for a ride son". I was wondring where we were going! I asked my dad like a hundred times. He would always say you will find out when we get there. I knew he would say that because thats what every parent would say. 

Then after 10 minutes we were in a big store called Pinkys Pet Store. I didn't know were he was going. But he whent to the store keeper and asked were the dogs were. Then I reallized the dog was for me. My dad said "Son pick out a dog." I could not say anything for a few minutes because I was so shocked. Then I found a golden retrever. It was just a pup when I got it so I called it Spunky.

Since that day I'm still doing chores to keep him. My mom thought I wouldn't pay money for him to keep him alive. But she thought wrong, like wushal! I even still play with him and I am 15.  I got him when we were 2. He was two too. He has the same birthday as me too. 

50 years later they both died. They are barried in the same spot.

The End.

If that touching story of a boy and his 50 year old dog didn't bring a tear to your eye, you are a heartless bastard fuck and I want to be your friend. Stay tuned in the future for the next installment of Womb Mate: An Undiscovered Rhodes Scholar when I present to you "The Big Move.", which I am assuming is semi-autobiographical.

It's Like She Does This Every Day

It's The Pilot's Birthday but I am not going to write about that today because I've got something far more important to share with you and that is a video of my sister dancing around during her labour because it's funny.

Poop. You Will Be Reading About Shit, Pretty Much.

The thing about babies is the fact that they don't have much to do in their life. They can't really walk so that means they can't start pole dancing to work their way through medical school, and they definitely can't do math so they can't count cards in a casino to earn money to pay off your drug and gambling habit before you get your fingers cut off and sent to your wife.They can't even spend their time cavorting with whores down the streets of a darkened alley.

They have a boring life, is what I'm saying here.

What they can do, however, is shit. They pretty much have that mastered. Constipated and can't take a shit yourself? Go watch a baby. They can just power shit and teach you a thing or two. They also shit while they eat. I don't even shit when I eat. That is, if I ever actually pooped because I totally do that and only know friends who do. But not me.

Because my Womb Mate has had to stay in the hospital a bit longer then was excepted and her baby daddy had to make a day long trip she would have been alone in the hospital for the night and I graciously decided that I would stay with her to keep her company and make sure she doesn't break my iPad while she screws up on several Angry Birds level.

It also helped that she had an adorable baby staying with her too.

And during that night, my god did that baby poop.

He just shit. all. the. damn. time.

It was none stop. And the thing about baby poop? It's disgusting. And rancid smelling. I know his first poops aren't supposed to smell but whatever they had that baby on made me want to have someone look into his butt to make sure something wasn't dying in there. Like an unknown twin or something because it was that gross. And did I mention that it wouldn't stop? Because it didn't.

I never, ever wanted to have to see that and the cherry on the poop cake? Womb Mate got shit all over herself too. And later when she was holding baby she couldn't figure out if the speck on her arm was baby poop or a piece of the chocolate bar she had been eating ten minutes earlier.

Now, I'm not sure if you have ever been in that dilemma before -- having to figure out the difference between baby shit and chocolate and I nearly gagged when she decided to go for it and eat it anyways. Even though it turned out to be chocolate and Womb Mate assured me she knew all a long that it was chocolate, it still made me gag.

She also may have burped in her babies face after that, by accident, and scared him awake in the most hilarious way ever.

And she may have told me to "contain that baby" while he was fusing while she was trying to sleep.

And she may have told me not to give her baby shaken baby syndrome while laughing with him on my chest.

She's really taking to this whole Motherhood thing.

And Then There Was Baby

You know how earlier I was following my Womb Mate around while she was going through labour and blaming Jesus and Google for lying to her about what childbirth was like and if we all didn't feel sympathy for her because it's hard to pee while contracting?

Well, she finally gave birth on Wednesday to my Nephew. He is simply the cutest, coolest baby in the world and after he was born all other babies probably turned ugly, grew a third eye, and spewed acid because he's just the best.

I am tempted to call him The Baconator because his middle name may or may not share the same name as the dude who sold his food to people wanting to buy hamburgers for a ginger haired hell-spawn daughter. You know that restaurant, right?

I am extremely pickled to be an Auntie and did I mention that your baby is now ugly because of my Nephew? Because it is.

Being The One Not Pushing Out A Baby, I Am So Tired

It's finally happened, the Womb Mate is in labour. For the past twelve hours. And it's extremely tiring on me. Like, I have had to follow her around with a heat pad and continuously fill up her ice water and try and tell her that her heat pad is probably burning off her backside but that it's OK, she's the pregnant one who is pushing a melon out of her cooch so if she wants to burn her backside off, that's OK.

I've never experienced anyone in labour before despite the fact that I may be a Godmother already. Thankfully that baby was born hours away from me and all I got to see was the cute baby after all the goop was wiped off.

This time, however, it's all in front of my eyes and I can't really escape it but you know that part where the baby rips apart my sister? Yeah, luckily, once again I don't have to see any of that and just get to play with the baby when it's all wiped off and clean.

To deal with watching my womb mate go through labour in her own home while crazy boys were running around doing crazy boy things, I found --to my relief -- that she decided to handle her pain like a man and take a type of sense of humour to it.

Luckily, I had the sense of mind to write down all the things she was saying as she downward dogged on the floor, bounced on her ball, and refused to leave her massage chair.

"I'm going to slowly move my head at different angles and look off in the distance as if I am looking at something important when I have my photo's taken after baby is born. Like a model." -- in regards to how she is going to handle being photographed after baby is born.

"You have to quote me word for word, not what you process in your head because you will get it all jumble-fucked." -- in regards to noticing that I started writing down all the stupid things coming out of her mouth while she is in pain.

"I can be funny on the Internet!" -- surprise over the fact she got a few 'likes' on her face book status.

"This song makes me feel tough." -- she exclaims as she puts on Mr.Boombastic by Shaggy.

"This song is for you." -- she declares as she points at me just as Sexual Healing blasts from the computer speakers.

"Feels like an alien is coming out of my twat.", "It is." responds her fiance when asked what her contractions feel like.

"Why does Jesus do this to me?" -- when dealing with more contractions.

" You aren't the one in labour! Let me have all the slaves!" -- when I asked our mother to pull my chicken nuggets out of the oven.

"Bewyoowoowoowoyoo --- that's the sound of a boner going down. I've heard it before." -- in response to a noise on the television.

Mother, "Can everything go in the dryer?", Womb Mate, "Whip it all in....balls deep." -- in response to our mother asking about laundry.

Womb Mate's Fiance, "Where's your mom?", Womb Mate, "Balls deep in the dryer."

Shortly after she fired her fiance as her labour partner, declared that the baby really isn't his but the bell hop at the hotel they got knocked up in and declared that everyone sucks and I am a failure at help because I can't comprehend how hard it is to pee while having a contraction.

I don't know about you, but this bystander position is pretty fun.

An Update So I Can Brag, Ok?

I just thought I would give some sort of update because the baby still isn't here and it has caused my Womb Mate to go on a tirade about how her fiancé and baby daddy has trapped her with a child and it means he may or may not kill her out back and hide her in the swamp.

Or threatening to murder him or grind him up.

She is really flip-flopping on her hate, honestly.

Because the baby hasn't showed up yet, they are going to induce her on Monday. This baby, who is being an ignorant dink, has caused me to extend my time here for another week and that is another week I can't be having sexy fun times with The Pilot. He has probably already found a temporary replacement girlfriend in the meantime. It also means I get to cut a bitch when I get home.

So what is a person to do when their whole life and universe is in the wrinkled hands of an unborn baby?

Buy an iPad of course.

And write a blog post that is a thinly veiled attempt to brag about it. Did I mention that this was typed on one?

Because it totally was, bitch.

It's Like Kindergarden Cop But The Kids Have The Guns

The thing about being a parent, or even a step-parent, or even anyone who has anything to do with kids is that you've got to set an example that they can live by. Like, always say "please"and "thank-you", or wash behind your ears when you have a bath. Or possibly even be kind and loving to anyone and everyone because you never know who will show up back in your life and save you from getting eaten by a half-dinosaur/ half bear monster that wants to eat your face.

Or, if you are my Womb Mate, you will teach your step-sons that when playing "Cops and Robbers" it's not fun playing Good Cop/Good Cop, or Good Cop/Bad Cop but you might as well change the title of the game to "The Most Corrupt Precinct In The World Because Ethics Are For Pussies".

From the moment I woke up this morning and barely having enough time to scarf down my breakfast, one of the kids who I will call Corrupt Cop #1, set upon me claiming that I had stolen a shit whack of stuff and it was time that I go to jail. The stuff that I stole? A rock and a twenty dollar bill he shoved into my pocket in broad daylight. My loving Womb Mate, who watched this horrible incrimination happen sat at the table and proclaimed that I stole a whole mansion worth of stuff and told them that my finger prints were everywhere and that I was guilty and needed to go to jail.

My loving mother, who pushed me out of her twatter, sat there and presented false forensic evidence to get me jailed. I was handcuffed and thrown into the prison in the living room and forced to lay down on a scratchy blanket. Womb Mate then decided she was going to be a cop.

With Womb Mate in charge, I found myself being stabbed, and shot, and poked, and bullied, and beat up, and eventually my hands were cut off so I couldn't wipe my butt or steal more fake things and when Womb Mate said "what can we do to keep her from running away?" my legs were promptly cut off by her corrupt lackey who wanted nothing more than to just shoot me in the face and be done with it.

I was given one phone call and I was allowed to call The Pilot as my Lawyer Boyfriend and the twat-dink decided that since he didn't go to Lawyer-Boyfriend school he couldn't help me and if I could put him in my will before I was executed that would be a super awesome thing to do and then he hung up on me.

At the second hour of being beaten in living room prison, the lines between vacation and Gitmo started to blurr and I was confused at why I had even bothered to wake up in the morning.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow I will wake up to being water boarded.

Baby Watch 2011 Is Just As Boring As It Sounds

I am sitting in my little sisters living room right now watching trashy television while my mother putters around behind me in the kitchen making pretty much what I am convinced is the most disgusting alien eggs ever to be made in a dinner and instead of eating it at dinner time, they hatch and hump your face while force impregnating you. Or, as she calls them "Cabbage Rolls".

The pregnant one is no where in sight and I am hoping that means she's locked herself in a closet or a hole in the ground to push out that baby and as long as she's doing it over a blanket or a garbage bag so she can easily clean up that horrible mess that will leak out of her and burn it out back before it lures a poltergeist into the house. Or, as my mother says "She went to go get her step-sons so they can visit for the week".

It's almost like my mother is a giant buzz kill who has made it her job to sit around and just ruin my rich, fantasy life with the cold hard facts of reality and those cold hard facts of reality is the fact that life is pretty boring right now and I am not, in fact, running around with laser eyes saving the world from rogue Scientist Dinosaurs who want to force impregnate us with dinosaur mutants.

And, honestly, I don't think I want to live in a world that doesn't include me having laser eyes so I think I might go stand in front of the microwave as I heat up a laser pen while hoping the ensuing fire and explosion will give me laser powers.

This whole post may or may not have had a point of telling you that the baby hasn't been born yet but I suddenly lost track thinking of how awesome laser eyes would be.

It's Like Her Pregnancy Is Trying To Ruin My Innocence

As some of you may or may not remember I mentioned some time earlier in the blog that my Womb Mate is pregnant with what I am going to assume is a Hell spawn until I'm proven wrong with it being non-Hellspawnish.

She is apparently supposed to give birth to this potential monster this week or, in the next week, or the week after, or maybe just never and she will end up pregnant forever or my earlier assumption that this whole pregnancy was a cover for the fact she's just bloaty.

To say I am somewhat excited about being an Auntie is kind of an understatement because I've bought this child so many gifts in my competition to be it's Favorite! Auntie! Ever! and I just hope this child grows up with cheap tastes because I may or may not have to abandon the competition as soon as it starts asking for Ipods of the future or some shit like that. I may be willing to buy the spawns love but like, dollar store love.

Unfortunately, because my little sister is about to be ripped about by her offspring it's made me look back on the journey of the last nine months and how horrible it has been for me to have a pregnant little Womb Mate whom I am very close with and the trials I've had to go through during this pregnancy.

Like the fact that pregnancy is really a horrible terrible thing that should never happen to anyone, ever, because in the process of giving birth you can rip your vagina straight to your asshole so it becomes some type of super bird like genital where you poop, piss, fuck and give birth all from the same hole and you'd probably never be able to look at your lower half in a mirror ever again because it will make kids on the other side of the world cry in horror?

Or the fact that some chicks can spontaneously grow hair all over their bodies like some type of fucked up circus act that may or may not go away after you've shit out the hairball you've been incubating for the last nine months?

Or that babies can piss all over themselves while floating in that womb so basically they are giving themselves golden showers every. damn. day. while you helplessly go about your day not knowing any better.

Or that mucus plug? That horrible, gross, disgusting, terrible thing that almost ruined my relationship because I googled it when the Womb Mate told me it almost made her throw up when she googled it and it made me realize that The Pilot and I might potentially have kids in the future and that thing will be in me? My god! It's so gross!

I wouldn't have known any of these things if my Womb Mate never got pregnant and my life would have continued to be ignorant and pain free and I wouldn't have had to go through all these hardships throughout the nine months of her pregnancy and just thinking of it makes me tired and scared and maybe my feet are a little bit swollen too, come to think of it.

Sunday Photography: A Preveiw Of My Vacation

A Vacation That I Hope Doesn't End Up With Someone Crapping All Over A Hotel Bathroom

All this week I am going to be preparing myself to hop into a vehicle for a two-day adventure towards my parents cabin where I am sure amazingly stupid things are going to happen. The last time we made this two day trip the dog ended up Dorito dog farting all over the place and when we stopped at our hotel for the night he spastically crapped all over the bathroom and the smell was so foul and disgusting we nearly threw up as we used all the towels in the bathroom room to clean it up and then threw them into the bathtub in a crappy attempt to hide the evidence. Despite locking the door we had to smell that smell all night long and it nearly destroyed our relationship and killed all the babies in the world by giving them cancer and in the morning we checked out as fast as humanly possible and now I’m probably sure that we aren’t allowed in a Best Western ever again because the maid that found that murder scene in the bathroom? She will most likely stab us if she ever finds us.

So this blog week is going to be pretty slow because The Pilot is working until super late all week and that leaves me to pack up all our crap and try not to forget anything and attempt to conquer my secret drinking habit because when he comes home at night and finds out that I did nothing? I’m pretty sure that’s grounds for him to break up with me and if he broke up with me I’d have to throw the dog off the cliff to show him that he never should have dumped me and we both know the dog would have picked to go with him and my fragile ego just couldn’t handle that after being dumped for not packing for a road trip.

All next week I do have on guest blog lined up because 99.9% of my readers are giant douchebags and only one person got back to me with an actual post and that person is someone everyone should have sex with because it’s just that good. The guest post. Not the sex. I’ve never had sex with her so I wouldn’t know. But I’m sure it would be good. She just looks like she is good at it.

Perhaps during the whole next week I am gone, I might just update my blog with what is going on because that Womb Mate of mine? Yeah, she’s going to be there. That means I am going to have a massive amount of stuff to blog about once the trip is over. But the thing about updating a blog while on vacation, it only works if you have access to the Internet. And my parents? Yeah, ever since they retired to live in a cabin on the lake they’ve decided they are going to live like homeless people and have no real access to the rest of the world. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage to do that without stabbing someone in the eye for some type of updated current events or just for my own amusement because there is only so many times a girl can play monopoly without killing someone. Sorry Grandma, you’re the oldest so you are probably going to be the one stabbed.

I also plan on making a lot of videos so you can look forward to that as well. If you don’t want to look forward to it…well I don’t look forward to giving you that intervention you so desperately need for your coke habit you ungrateful turdmouth. Yeah, that’s right. No Intervention for you. Whore.

P.S:  I didn’t really mean to call you a whore but you sort of kinda are. And that intervention? Yeah, it’s just going to be a giant party you aren’t invited too. Whore.

P.P.S: And that intervention that is just a giant party that you aren't invited to? Yeah, it's going to have George Michael performing all of his music and eventually he will end up knee deep in a pile of coke while simultaneously floating in a river of beer while fighting of a giant owl dressed in a red sequin wrestling outfit while Careless Whisper blasted on the sound system and lightening gold struck all the party goers. The night will end in tears and the next day will begin with the intervention we throw George Michael and once again just ignore you and not invite you to the giant party it will turn into.