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.

This Post Totally Isn't About How I Got Laid. It's About Bears.

At my place of work that has been an increasing amount of bear sightings and a lot of people are saying that it's probably because all summer the forest was burning like fire was going out of style and everyone needed it right now because soon the world would be fire less and it's caused the bears and all the other stupid non-bear animals to migrate to our work site.

Me? I think the bears are staging some type of revolution and are casing the joint to find our weaknesses. It's like, the more they prod and hide in garbage cans waiting to play "Peek-a-boo, I'm a fucking bear going to rip your face off but you don't know that because I'm hiding in the garbage and all you want to do is throw away trash. SURPRISE MOTHAFUDDAH!" and then someone gets mauled. Not me, of course. I don't want to be mauled. Because that'd probably suck really hard and I'm trying to avoid having suckage in my life. And by "suckage" I don't mean "less blow jobs" and by "less blow jobs" I don't mean "I have a dick that needs to be blow jobbed less." Because that'd be fucked. Wouldn't it?

No, what this whole bear thing has made me realize that I needed to realize a life long dream of mine and that life long dream is to ride a fucking bear. Just ride it like a horse and probably coax it to maul people of my choosing. Considering the bears are planning a coupe, it might be hard to trick one into letting me ride it.

So naturally I turned to The Pilot to fix this problem of me not being able to ride a bear and I got all excited when he told me that it could totally be arranged and all I had to do was get home from work to find out what it was.

All day I was excited and telling people that "just you wait, I'm going to ride into work on a bear one day and all you people who I may or may not like the look of your face that day will get mauled. And it will be hilarious.".

And then I got home.

And my reality was destroyed.

When I said "I want to ride a fucking bear" The Pilot totally read "I'm totally getting laid tonight." and then my dreams were shattered and I locked myself in the bathroom and haven't come out since.  Or just had sex with him. Pick which ending makes you happier. The ending where I cried, or the ending where I got laid.

Catikaze

I found out yesterday that I ended up winning some award about a blog that is potentially on fire and might spread fire to other blogs and burn down the whole Internet so I'm not sure if I was supposed to take it as a flattering "your blog is awesome" or a "your blog is a potential hazard to the Internet and firefighters will arrive shortly to hack through your door, destroy your computer and stomp on you until you realize how dangerous your fire blog is.". Needless to say I thought this was totally awesome that my blog might be a potential hazard to the Internet and I'm half contemplating dousing it with gasoline just to see it burn faster until I realized that the rules on the award is saying seven things about yourself and I'm all like, "Fuck it, I'm lazy."

So you know what I'm going to do instead Rachel? Not do it, because I'm lazy. And it'd be hard for my tiny little fingers to type out seven things about myself that others probably wont find interesting and will throw empty beer cans at me because I wasted their time. And you know what you can do with empty beer cans, Rachel? Nothing, because they are empty and the beer is already gone.

Instead, I'm going to tell you all about the time this morning when a small cat used itself as a suicide bomber and tried to take me out.

Yeah, that really happened to me this morning.

My job, that feeds me and clothes me and makes sure I have money for shinny things, has me get up at the stupid hours of 4:00am so I can catch a stinky, old man smelling bus just so I can get to work on time around 6:00am. Yeah, it's that long of a bus ride and yes it literally smells like an old man took a piss on the bus. Every. Dang. Morning.

As I was stumbling out of my apartment building still half asleep to catch the bus that picks up two feet from my apartment I heard this god awful "Meow, meow, meow, mother fucking meow!" from above my head and looked up to see a cat screaming at me. What was it screaming? I don't know. I don't speak fucking cat. It was probably offended that I had thumbs and could punch things and use guns and just decided that it was going to hassle me over it.

I guess the cat didn't like the fact that I was ignoring it's cat-calls and decided it was going to take it's taunting up a notch by throwing itself off the third storey balcony it was screaming at me from. But, I didn't know this until a falling cat landed half a foot in front of me and it looked extremely pissed off that it missed and then took off like a bat up the nearest tree. I was left with a total, did that just fucking happen to me? Did a cat try to bomb me from above and fail?

This is why getting up at ungodly hours is so unhealthy for people. You'll almost get bombed by cats.

Coming Soon To A Blog Near You!

I Have No Clue What Else To Say On A Sunday

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.

Insight To My Insanity Or How I Spent My Weekend

Discussion with The Pilot following the discovery that we had no coal for the BBQ and thus might not be able to eat our delicious dinner we had planned. The Pilot, "Now I've got to drive all the way to the grocery store!" Me, " This sounds an awful lot like some buddy is whining." The Pilot, "It is whining! It's full blown whining and you aren't even giving it the credit it deserves!"

In a full silent theatre at the last shown down of Harry Potter and Voldemort, The Pilot is the only one who laughed out loud when Bellatrix gets shoved to the side by the darklord. Either he finds domestic violence funny or I should beat him less often so he doesn't feel awkward and embarrassed when it's presented to him on the big screen.

Email spam told me to invest my whole retirement in Alpaca's and I see nothing wrong with this idea.

The dog, while we are in the bedroom, jumps onto the dinner table and eats the left over steak The Pilot forget to throw out. He then barfs all under the table and as punishment gets thrown outside on the deck to rot. He spends the evening grinning at me through the door as if to say "Hey, this deck is awesome and all and I am pretty sure I pee'd on your BBQ but can you let me in now? It's kind of boring and I see you eating popcorn. OK? Awesome." while at the same time The Pilot is sitting around and proclaiming that I committed the worst act of animal abuse ever and someone should poop on my soul.

The Pilot met The Biebs. And it was a shocking experience.

Monday Photography: Pictures From Ecuador