I Am Sort Of Hoping He Melts To The Side Walk

Right now, I am sort of wondering if the weather has decided to turn around and fuck us all over again because at the start of the Summer it was mildly hot and riddled with forest fires and then it started to rain and give us floods and now it's all "I haven't broke your spirit yet? Well, here's some more terrible times to fuck you up and by the time Fall comes, I hope you are dead." and that's exactly what it's been doing.

It's been so hot the last few days that I am kind of hoping that when I take the dog out for a walk he melts to the sidewalk because I am tired of him sitting around and hiding under the bed because he thinks it will make it colder for him.

And he always gets stuck.

Because he's special.

And I don't want to save him because I am already held up by the heat that I just want to lounge on my couch with an over sized fan, a mint julep and talk with a Southern drawl while asking for the help of handsome strangers to do menial work for me. Shirtless.

Did A Bear Just Donkey Punch Your Balls? Yeah, It's Called Life.

Sometimes life is like being on a comfortable inflatable pool floaty thing (You know those noodle things right? That when you were little and stupid you used it as a fake penis to bash into the faces of the other kids who stupidly used it as a floatation device and not a surrogate penis? Yeah, I'm not talking about those. I'm talking about the floaty pool thing that you lay on.) while floating down a gentle river creek that leads you into a lovable forest full of deliciously cute critters that want to bring you cocktails and nudey magazines and once you are all comfortable and relaxed it's all SURPRISE! That little creek you were floating on and drinking cocktails on and enjoying those nudey magazines? Yeah, those animals totally made you those cocktails using stagnant lake water that contains beaver fever because they hate you and want you to die.

But sometimes life is like white water rafting where they stick you in a boat and a life jacket and advice you that screaming at the top of your lungs while barrelling down a dangerous river full of rocks and hard pointy things that can cut out your eye wont do anything to prevent your eye from being cut out. And you know what? You hit one of those rocks and it flips your boat and everyone who you love that was on that boat drowned and died because a rock cut out their eyeball. And when you managed to avoid drowning and crawl to land to start the grieving process, SURPRISE! That's a fucking bear. And it just donkey punched your balls because it's a bear and it doesn't give a fuck.

What I'm really trying to say here is that animals are assholes and probably should all be eaten. And what? No! I didn't write this blog about eating and killing all the animals in the world because my dog happened to jump on the table last night and eat my dessert while I happened to take a bathroom break. And no, I didn't come close to skinning him alive but he ran under the bed where my little T-Rex arms can't reach him so he never got punished for what he did.

All I am saying is that life sucks sometimes and animals need to be destroyed before they destroy us. Is all.

That, or I want another piece of pie.

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.