Easter!

This weekend is Easter. I don't think there will be much Easterfication going on in my world, since Jesse won't be home and I don't like ham. I like pig in every other form except the glistening pink variety, but all the Easters I've been invited to are serving ham and eff that noise. So I'll probably just eat tacos and a chocolate bunny for dinner and call it good.

But it wouldn't be a proper holiday if I didn't draw at least a few pictures to go with it. Here are some Easter Bunnies that want to wish you a Happy Dead Jesus Time!

First, a relatively cute and not-actually-that-defective bunny:

Then, a bunny that has fallen on some hard times:

Then, a fraudulent bunny:

Then, an even more fraudulent bunny:

Then, this:

And finally, the universally-recognized BEST BUNNY OF ALL:

With the possible exception of this:

Happy Easter, everyone!

monkey ice cream?!?!?!

Once again, there isn't a real post today but don't worry -- there's something much better instead. A picture of a monkey eating a popsicle.

Then, as if this picture suffered from some sort of awesomeness shortage, I tried to copy it. Because with practice at copying pictures, I can dream of achieving once again the glory that was the Thanksgiving turkey pictures post. Here is my attempt. As you can see, I've got, erm, a lot of room to improve:

SHUT UP, YOU TRY TO DRAW A BETTER MONKEY EATING A POPSICLE. YOU CAN'T BECAUSE YOU SUCK.

Love, 
Me

Ultrasounds are spooky

So yesterday, it was off to the ol' hospital again for another appointment in the ultrasound clinic -- this time for some Down Syndrome screening test. This was my second time visiting the clinic with the real, super duper awesome, ultra expensive and powerful ultrasound machines -- the first visit was for a "dating ultrasound" to find out exactly how far along I was, and at that point I was only 8 weeks pregnant so the baby just looked like a little blob with a flutter of a heartbeat in the middle. This time around, at over 12 weeks, the baby looked like a baby.

Sort of.

It looked like ...

LIKE A HORRIBLE MONSTER BABY FROM YOUR NIGHTMARES.

Allow me to first paint a picture with words. (then I will paint a picture with Paint):

The baby has a giant head and weird, spindly little arms and legs. When she first put the ultrasound transducer thing on my belly, the baby was apparently lying on its side facing away from us. I couldn't really tell, but the sonographer was like "oh dammit, he needs to lie on his back for this test!" So she jiggled my belly a little to wake him up, and little Gizmo started to move.

I don't know how they move later on when they've got less space, but 12-week fetuses move like spastic fish gasping their last dying breaths on land. The only movement Gizmo was capable of was these seizure-like jolts where the whole body would bounce and the little arms and legs would flail.

It would happen suddenly and unexpectedly and was really, really discomfiting. I mean yeah, it's really really awesome to be able to actually SEE the baby that's growing inside you, and it's reassuring to know that it's doing okay, and yadda yadda yadda. But dude ... THAT THING IS FREAKY! Once Gizmo rolled over, I could see all the little facial features and somehow, seeing the face made me even more certain that it would be tearing its way through my chest at any moment. (I was going to put a gif of that scene here, but I decided against it because it was too graphic. YOU'RE WELCOME.)

Things got worse when the sonographer switched to a different transducer thinger. She needed one that was more X-rayish to see whatever she needed to measure for the test. And with this transducer, Gizmo looked MORE HORRIFYING STILL. You could see the whole skeleton with this thing. The baby became a giant skull and a spine, still doing those weird flailing movements. 

Can't believe they wouldn't give me one for the fridge.

At one point the Giz turned to face us and put a hand up in front of its face. A skeleton hand with five little skeleton fingers.

AGGGHGHHHH!

Once she was done, the sonographer left the room to go show the doctor what she'd found, and at that time I looked around and noticed that the room was decorated with pictures of people's 3D ultrasounds. And as I looked at these pictures, I couldn't help thinking that perhaps it would be better to decorate the room with pictures of clowns ripping the heads off of kittens or aging rock stars biting children's fingers clean off. They're all going to give me nightmares, so why not add a little variety?

Having the same nightmare all night is just dull.

So, in conclusion, ultrasounds are both awesome and awkwardly terrifying. It's still better than the time I left a picture of a five-week fetus up on my mom's kindle. Haha, she didn't really like turning it on to find that.

GOOD GOD SAVE YOURSELVES!

monkey butt?

Oops, I didn't write a real blog post today! (not that I feel bad about it since none of you read yesterday's! *sobs loudly and uncontrollably*)

Instead, please enjoy this picture!

The time I beat a video game

Sit down, kids, and let me tell you a story.

This is the story of the only video game I was ever truly good at. Depending how you define "good at," of course. I beat the whole game and unlocked a special character and it only took me a few hours, so I'd say that qualifies as being pretty damn good.

Except the manner in which I successfully beat the game was ... well, it's not something I'm proud of. Did I cheat? No. What I did was even worse.

The game ... was Star Wars Masters of Teras Kasi ... [flashback music plays]

It was for Playstation -- the original Playstation -- and it was awesome. It was pretty much your typical Mortal Kombat-style fighting game: two characters in an arena, beating the crap out of each other with a variety of weapons and special moves, and the winner is whoever gets best two out of three. 

Hiiiiyaaaaaaa!

You could play as most of the main characters in the Star Wars universe -- the standards Luke, Han, Leia; the evil Boba Fett or one of those Sand People (but not Jabba -- he's not very quick on his feet); and you could also be some random people I had never seen or heard of before and am still not convinced were actually part of Star Wars.

Like "Thok." Who the eff is that, Star Wars Masters? You made him up, didn't you.

I chose one of these randoms as my go-to character. Her name was Arden Lyn and she had a giant laser cannon instead of an arm. Her special move was to turn herself into a flaming energy bomb and completely obliterate her opponent. She was the shit.

Look at that beautiful bitch. All pixely and ready to beat some asses.

You also were not allowed to play as Darth Vader. In order to have access to Vader as a character, you first had to beat the game and unlock him.

I wanted this. Oh, Lord, how I wanted this!

So, after playing about 1034381903431 rounds of the game against my brother and sister, a good 80% of those rounds as Arden Lyn, I decided it was time for one of us to step up and beat the game so we could play as Vader. My brother was still too young to be much good at video games, and my sister didn't care nearly enough to devote the time to it, so I knew it was up to me to carry this burden.

At first, I tried beating the computer opponents the old-fashioned way: by randomly hitting buttons as rapidly as possible, trying desperately to stay alive until I built up enough life-power to do my special move. If I didn't kill them with one special move, I'd flail around hitting more buttons until I either won, died, or somehow got enough power to do the move again.

It was highly ineffective.

But as I flailed and pushed buttons randomly, I started to notice something. One of the buttons -- not even a combo, just a straight pushing of Square (or something) -- caused my character to drop down and do a low leg sweep. Also known as a spin kick delivered directly to the shins. 

And this spin kick to the shins, however unglamorous, was extremely effective. You could do it very quickly, over and over again without stopping. And once you got a good rhythm going, it was impossible for the opponent to get any moves in at all. You were hitting them about once per second -- they had no opportunity to take back the momentum. The only defense was to jump away ... and that only worked for about a second until I got back in range for some more shin-kicks. I was low to the ground, unpunchable, unkickable, just a tornado of furious blows delivered right to the easily-bruised tibias. Not even the ferocious light saber stood a chance against my demon kicks!

I shin-swept my way through opponent after opponent. At first, I was just using the shin-kicks to soften them up until I did my special move to finish them off. Eventually, I left off the special move entirely and just shin-kicked my way to KO after KO. I rocketed through the game undefeated. Unstoppable.

Eventually, I had beaten every character in the game ... and then it was time ... to face THE BOSS!!!!

Eeeeeeeee!!!!!

But was I afraid?

No.


I just kicked that motherf***er in the shins like 80 times, and then the credits rolled and we could all play as Darth Vader from then on.

Kickin shins and takin names!!

I'll always remember the lessons I learned that day. That sometimes, taking the easy way out is just fine. That you can win just by keeping your head down and plugging away consistently at a challenge. That you don't need to be flashy to succeed.

Haha just kidding. I sat there for like four hours hitting Square over and over again because I wanted to play as Darth Vader. There's no lesson in that.

YOU'RE F**KING WELCOME, FAMILY.

The irony is, I was so sick of the game after that that I think we only played it a few more times before moving on to other things. Like the stunt course on Rush 2 for Nintendo 64.

Now THAT was a sweet game.

The trick to winning this one is to always play as the hatchback, and also to not suck.

Welcome to spring!

Can I just take a second to agree with everyone else in the USA that the weather today/this week has been absolute bullshit? This morning I was waiting for the bus and had to wear my hood and gloves with my heavy winter coat. Because it was under 30 degrees. Many cars in the parking lot have snow on them, and yesterday I watched as it sleeted/hailed out the window. IT IS SPRING. ENOUGH WITH THIS NONSENSE.

So instead of writing a real post today, here are some pictures I drew of places I would rather be. I may just have to keep drawing more as the day wears on, since drawing them actually helped me feel better about the awfulness outside.

First, here I am on a beach:

And here I am enjoying a nice rooftop pool:

And here is a current live picture of Snoqualmie Pass, because God is being an asshole:

I'm going to draw more pictures of the beach now.

More pregnancy FAQs -- answered!!

Yesterday, I got through most of the preliminary questions people ask when you tell them you're pregnant. But I didn't get through all of them. Here is the "second tier" of questions -- the ones people only bust out when they've had a couple of beers, or if they feel comfortable enough with you to get a little bit more personal. I figure you all feel pretty comfortable with me by now, so let's get down to it!

Are you worried about stretch marks?

Not particularly. I'm rubbing 100% shea butter on my stomach every evening and cocoa butter every morning, so I'm pretty much doing all I can and the rest is up to nature. Plus, I've still been eating healthy and exercising so I don't think I'm going to get one of those "big fat bellies" that so many pregnant women seem to end up with.

Hey Megan Fox, maybe lay off the ice cream a little bit, amirite?!?!?!!

Have you thought about your birth plan yet? All natural versus epidural versus c-section and all that?

Umm, I figured I'd just poop the baby out my butt like a normal person, duh.

You don't poop babies out your butt.

Yes you do, dumbass. Where do you think they come out, your mouth? F***kin idiot.

They come out your vagina.

Hey. Language.

No, I'm serious. They come out your vagina and your vagina gets all stretched out and rips!

WHAT?!? No way. There's no way that's possible. How would it fit?

I just told you, IT DOESN'T FIT! Your vagina gets totally ruined! Your body will be an absolute wasteland for the rest of your natural life! Nuclear winter!!

Well, I tell you what, this is the FIRST I'VE HEARD ABOUT THIS. I can't believe it. I'll need to do some more research to get to the bottom of this "babies come out your vagina" thing. I'm just glad you of all people were brave enough to tell me the truth. My mom told me God sends a stork to drop the baby off right at your front door. Wow, my own mother lied right to my face. Then the obstetrician told me it comes out my butt like a big poop and it doesn't even hurt. God, next you're going to tell me there's no Easter Bunny. This is bullshit.

Speaking of poop, some women even go #2 right there in the hospital room while they're giving birth!

Okay, now you're just pulling my leg, you scamp!


So have you stopped drinking?

Of course not. I'm having a bacon-and-bloody-mary breakfast as we speak. Why, am I not supposed to be drinking?


Can I touch your belly?

Of course! And I'll touch yours too, and we'll stand there, hands on each other's bellies, staring deeply into each other's eyes, and then I'll mouth "Olive Juice" and you'll be so confused -- confused by the emotions that suddenly flood through you, confused by the depth of the feelings you're having -- feelings you didn't think you'd ever experience again. It will be so magical. And then I'll step forward and press my belly against your belly and we will be spirit-married -- the kind of bond that will last long after you leave the grocery store. Tell me you won't be thinking about me on the ride home -- about that moment we shared right there in the cereal aisle. No. You're lying to yourself. You will never forget me. We touched our bellies. Call me.


So I have this friend -- okay, she's not really my friend, but I see her at the gym sometimes. She's kinda hot but I think she might be a little too crazy to go out with -- but anyway, she said her aunt was in labor for like two full days and then when she finally gave birth, she broke her pelvis!

Is there a question in there?

WHAT IF THAT HAPPENS TO YOU??!?

OMG. I just did some research and here's what I found: 

Your pelvis is designed to stretch during child birth and it is not likely that it will break. However, it does happen in rare instances when the woman's pelvis is very small and the baby is very large

By "rare instances" I assume they mean there's like a 95% chance of it happening to me! IS IT TOO LATE TO GET AN ABORTION!??! I'll just adopt one of those Communist babies from China! Can't break your pelvis doing that, unless you get in a car wreck on your way to the airport. 

OMG. I just did some more research and it turns out you're much more likely to break your pelvis in a car wreck than during childbirth! Do you have some rope I could use to make a noose? I don't want to live in a world where it's possible to break your pelvis under any circumstances.

Hey wait, are you making fun of me?

Of course I am. You make it so easy.

I was just trying to offer you some information and tips.

And I appreciate it, from the bottom of my butt (which everyone knows is where the baby comes out).

Hmmmph.

Awww. I'm sorry. Would you like to touch my belly?

No. Last time you made it weird.

Don't hide from your feelings, doll. They'll always find a way of catching up to you.

Any more questions?????!?!?!?!? :-D

So guess what ...

Dear readers,

If you've noticed a certain falling-off in the quality of the blog lately, including the weeklong hiatus followed by an attempt at switching to only writing every other day, well, I've noticed it too. But there's a reason. It's because for the past couple months I've been sitting on a secret that's had a bazoonga-load of good material tied to it, but I couldn't share the material because it was still a secret. So instead I struggled to come up with other stuff to talk about that wasn't really related to my day-to-day life.

What's the secret?

THIS:

This is an actual color picture of the inside of my uterus.

I drew the clown-monster face on it because ultrasound pictures are boring. You can't see anything but a blurry lump, because the portable ultrasound machine at the doc's office is basically like trying to take a screenshot of a tiny, rapidly moving object using your 2004 Motorola Razr. Then they only gave me printed-out copies of the pictures, so I used my 2010 BlackBerry to take a picture of the picture and that's what I drew the clown on. Now it looks much less like an inkblot test ... and more like THE THING NIGHTMARES ARE MADE OF.

And for the record, I was not actually pregnant at the time I wrote the "Dear Men: No, I am not pregnant. Sincerely, Women" post. But at the time that post actually went live ... there may have been some cells dividing in my woman-parts. I didn't know it yet, though, so that post was not a lie.

Now let's address the Frequently Asked Questions that come with any pregnancy announcement!

WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! WAS IT PLANNED??

Jesse and I were always pretty good at not getting pregnant -- we succeeded at that for years! You might even call us experts at effective birth control. So then one day we were like "hey I wonder what would happen if we stopped trying to prevent pregnancy." It turns out that when you stop trying to prevent pregnancy, you dramatically increase your chances of becoming pregnant.

Related: when someone tells you "so I'm getting off The Pill" and then a few months later tells you "I'm pregnant!", asking "wow, was it planned?!" is, ummm ... well, it's not the SMARTEST question I've ever heard a person ask. Just something to keep in mind.

HOW ARE YOU FEELING?

I feel f**king awesome. I have thrown up not once. I have felt queasy not once. I have felt exhausted, constipated, uncomfortable, or anything of the sort not once. It's like my body was, I dunno, MADE for this or something. (and yes, I know I am very very lucky. Shout out to the teflon stomach gals who barf up Gatorade. That sounds horrible)

WHAT WAS IT LIKE WHEN YOU FOUND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT??

Finding out you're pregnant is one of those highly romanticized moments, up there with getting engaged in terms of how memorable and sweet and magical it is supposed to be.

These romanticized images are lies. Unless you take the piss test on your own while your partner isn't home and then put together some crazy elaborate plan to share the news with him later, then your magic moment is going to happen while you straddle a toilet seat with your pants around your ankles and your partner watching from the doorway as you try not to piss all over yourself and the toilet seat (apparently, holding a flat object directly in your urine stream has a tendency to make it want to splash everywhere. Go figure). 

In our case, the line appeared as I was still trying to wipe the pee that had splashed on the plastic parts of the pregnancy test, so I couldn't even show Jesse for several seconds (I don't think either one of us was too keen on my passing a pee-soaked dripping plastic stick across the bathroom).

Pictured: a moment we'll both remember forever!

Upon seeing the stick, though, Jesse memorably quipped "Oh shit! You're hella pregnant."

Hella pregnant indeed.

I then peed on another stick that night, another one in the morning, and then several more over the course of the next few days. Because if you're not puking, it's really hard to believe that you're pregnant. So make sure to invest in the multi-packs of pregnancy tests.

ARE YOU GOING TO FIND OUT THE SEX?

Hell yes. I was at Target the other day looking at baby clothes and couldn't find one single thing that could be considered "gender neutral" that couldn't also be considered "horrifically ugly." So we can either find out the gender or have a baby with no style at all, that all the other babies will laugh at. That's a no-brainer.

Tell me you don't want to make fun of this baby. YOU CAN'T.

HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT NAMES?

Sure, but I'm not going to tell you guys! You'll just make fun of them and make me feel bad. As if there's anything wrong with wanting to name my kid Phurgis if it's a boy and Ramonicaitlyn if it's a girl. (haha, just kidding -- it's going to be Phartholomew regardless of gender)

OH MAN DOES THIS MEAN YOUR WHOLE BLOG IS GOING TO TURN INTO TALKING ABOUT BEING PREGNANT AND THEN RAISING KIDS BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS SUPER BORING.

I know, right? Don't worry. Remember how I drew a murder-clown on my ultrasound? That's kinda the path this thing is going to take. Baby Gizmo (that's what we're calling the fetus, because it doesn't like bright lights and is NOT to be fed after midnight) will become a blog character just like Jesse is a character. Except better, because babies do way more stupid shit than Jesse could ever even imagine. 

Plus you can give them awesome pacifiers like these. 

I mean, COME ON!

WHAT IF YOUR BABY HAS A GIANT HEAD?

My baby is going to have a giant head. There's nothing I can do about that now -- it's just karma.

HAAAAA!!!

Foods that turn me into a two-year-old

This weekend was my Dad's birthday, so the family all got together for dinner and I volunteered to make Shepherd's Pie for everyone. Because it was St. Patrick's Day, and because my Dad always used to love Shepherd's Pie when we were little so I thought it might be some nice nostalgia. Plus I'd never cooked it before, so I thought it would be a fun challenge.

Well, it turned out absolutely delicious and was a big hit, except for a few complaints -- namely, that I'd left out a few key ingredients. Well, duh you idiots -- there's a reason I always hated eating Shepherd's Pie when we were kids and kind of hated my Dad for liking it so much and causing it to be a regular menu item in our home. And there's a reason I swiftly volunteered to cook this year instead of foisting it off on my brother as per usual. That reason was simple:

I WANTED SHEPHERD'S PIE WITHOUT ANY GODDAMNED PEAS IN IT.

Peas are awful and they taste gross and they ruin everything they touch. They are little green balls of poison foulness and even now, as a 27-year-old vegetable-loving adult, I refuse to eat them ever for any reason. (Please note that this hatred for actual peas does nothing to affect my extreme love for split pea soup, however. Split pea soup is the bomb)

Peas turn me into a two-year-old child, throwing tantrums and forfeiting any chance at dessert by stubbornly refusing to eat them. But they aren't the only food on my refuse-to-eat-that list. Here are a few other foods that I would consider eating dog food before I touched:

Mushrooms

I have tried pretty much every popular kind of mushroom, from button mushrooms to shittake mushrooms to those stringy ones they use in Asian food to fancy chicken-tasting ones my friend found outside (he's an actual legit mushroom expert so we weren't in danger of dying or tripping balls or anything). I have hated them all.

I dislike everything about mushrooms. I hate the taste of them -- that means when they're ground up or turned into soup, I still hate them. I hate the texture of them -- that means when they're hidden in something like spaghetti sauce and I get one in my mouth, my face screws up and I carefully spit the mushroom out. 

I passionately, violently hate mushrooms to the point where all decorum goes out the window. One time, I was at a work function and bit into a little doughy tart thing thinking it would be filled with meat or cheese. When I discovered that it was full of mushrooms, I grabbed a napkin and SPIT THE OFFENDING APPETIZER OUT rather than just choke it down. I reiterate -- this happened at a work function. I was wearing a business suit as I spit half-chewed mushroom fragments into a napkin.

When I was a kid, my mom used to always put mushrooms into spaghetti sauce because everyone else in the family liked them and she and Dad LOVED them. I would carefully, patiently sit there and sort through my sauce until I had removed every single mushroom fragment before I would start eating it. Sometimes, it would take me so long to do this that everyone else would be done eating before I even started. After a few instances of this, she finally learned that it was better to just pull out some sauce specifically for me before adding the mushrooms to the pot.

As an adult, I have carefully, patiently sat in the office cafeteria sorting through my vegetable soup until I have removed every single mushroom fragment before I start eating it. Sometimes, it takes me so long to do this that all my coworkers are done eating before I even start. 

I take a certain pride in this. I really don't like mushrooms, guys.

Olives

Olives are a little like mushrooms in that I hate every possible iteration of them. One time I ordered a taco salad bowl thing at a restaurant, specifically requesting no olives. When it arrived, it took me about half a bite to realize the waitress had not heeded my request.

I sent the salad back. I don't care if the cooks spit in the new one -- I'd rather eat the spit of a thousand underpaid Mexicans than eat one single olive.

Lima Beans

Why do these exist? Why do people serve them? Does anyone actually like them!?!?

When I was little, I thought I hated all beans. I didn't want chili unless it was of the no-beans variety. I avoided baked beans at barbecues like it was a vat of boiling witch's brew. And why? Because I knew I hated lima beans, and I figured all beans tasted just as awful.

They don't even LOOK appetizing. 

Mmm, yummy! Where can I get some! Do those come from inside a human body? Because they sure look like it!

At the work cafeteria in DC, the chef would sometimes serve a version of succotash whose main ingredients were lima beans and peas.

You can imagine how thrilled I was about that.

I also don't eat the skin on fried chicken, not because I'm watching my figure but because I honest-to-god don't like it. Skin is gross, y'all. IT'S SKIN FOR CHRISSAKES.

Then again, I may just be the Antichrist.

Random drawings: Clown and Devil laugh heartily as a volcano erupts and catches Bambi on fire

Happy birthday, Mom.


Also, it turns out the whole thing was actually painted by an owl. Whoa.

So I watched the newest Twilight movie ...

As I've said before, I'm not really into Twilight. And by that I mean that I have read not a word of any of the books, and up til this past weekend, I had watched a cumulative total of around 10 minutes of footage from all the movies. But then ... it happened.

You see, Jesse has seen all the Twilight movies. It started many years ago, long before he met me, when he was dating the kind of chick who not only wanted to watch Twilight, but DEMANDED that her boyfriend watch Twilight with her (frankly, I'm as shocked as you are that the relationship didn't last). But after he'd put in the time to sit through the first movie, he just sort of kept watching. He was in Iraq and bought a bootleg of the second one for $.25. When the third one came out, he rented it on Red Box while I was out of town because f**k it, he'd already seen the first two. And so when the final installment arrived at our local Red Box kiosk, Jesse wanted to watch it, just to say he'd seen the whole series. And this is how I was Shanghaied into watching an entire Twilight movie.

As you'd all expect, I hated it. I thought it was the worst movie I had ever seen in my life. I laughed out loud at things that weren't supposed to be funny -- at least six times. By the time it was over, I told Jesse I ought to punch him in the face for making me waste that much of my life. And told him to immediately take the movie back to the Red Box kiosk because the prospect of forgetting to return it and having to pay an additional dollar for it was enough to make me homicidal.

Here are the top few stupidest things in the movie (given that I didn't really understand what was happening since I had zero background in the story):

-- Kristen Stewart's front teeth should have had second billing in the cast list, because DAMNNNN GIRL. 

YOU ARE RICH. FIX YOUR F***ING TEETH.

-- The Taylor Lautner character is in love with a baby? So the parents are mad for like one second and then are like "nah, it's cool. He should totally babysit all the goddamned time. I trust him. He's a grown man who considers himself soul-married to our baby. I bet he will never do anything weird like try to have sex with her, especially given that she ages like 10 times faster than a regular person so she'll reach sexual maturity at around age 2." That is so unbelievably retarded I can't even wrap my mind around it.

Creepy adults and young girls don't really mix, as Jean Reno and Natalie Portman aptly demonstrated in Leon: The Professional

-- In the scene where Bella's father -- who apparently has no problem with his 17-year-old daughter running off to get married and then live in some sort of weird commune with some "adopted" kid like they're the f**king Manson family -- comes to visit, Edward brings out the baby to show to him. He is just holding the baby -- it isn't doing any weird vampire stuff or anything.

You guys.

You guys.


THE BABY IS CGI.

THE BABY IS FUCKING CGI. I AM NOT BLEEPING OUT THAT F-WORD BECAUSE YOU GUYS THE FUCKING BABY IS CGI.

Why could they not use a real baby!??!?! The baby is literally doing nothing except being held!!!!! They probably could have just borrowed a baby from somebody working on the movie. Shit, if I had a baby, I'd be like, "sure, Robert Pattinson can hold my baby for two seconds in this movie. What a neat story that could be for when the kid is grown up!"

But no. No no no. They computer-animated a baby.

Badly.

Really, really badly.

Looks just like a real baby! IF YOU HAVE GLAUCOMA.

This decision was so offensive to both Jesse and me that we would both burst out laughing at various points throughout the rest of the film because we were just reminiscing about how "I can't believe they did a CGI baby. That's so stupid it hurts."

Hey Edward, I think Bella cheated on you with the kid from Polar Express.

-- The entire plot is based around a misunderstanding that could have very easily been resolved with one bloody phone call. Or hell, don't use a phone -- you're vampires, use some mind-control shit. "Hello, Volturi? I know you're mad because you think we made an immortal child, which is frowned-upon, but actually she's half-vampire half-mortal and so we didn't do anything wrong."  "Oh really? Cool, what a relief. I mean I'll have to see the child for myself to make sure you're telling the truth, but that shouldn't be a problem. Should I come to you or do you want to come to me here?"  "We'll come to you -- it's no problem. See you shortly!"

Or, you could spend weeks and weeks building up armies to fight each other. That's ... that's cool too.

Nobody wanted to miss out on this.

-- The armies they build up to fight each other are hilariously tiny.

When, after an INTERMINABLY LONG AND DRAWN-OUT WAIT, the two armies are finally facing each other across a snowy field, the camera pans from angry face to angry face, focusing on those crazy vampire eyes and the growling of the wolf things, and it all looks very intense.

Acting!!!

And then the camera switches to a wide-angle long shot where you can clearly see that each side has like thirty people tops. I've seen bigger brawls break out in elementary school.

Wamp womp.

At this point in the movie, I started laughing so hard I had to leave the room. I was done. DONE.

And then there was a twist that made the whole thing even stupider, and we turned it off before it even ended and it was back in the Red Box machine five minutes later. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Seriously. A CGI baby.

A fucking CGI baby.

F**k you too, Twilight. Right in your ass.