Friday Poundings: Jesse doesn't care about me and is just awful in general

Every marriage has its rough spots, and right now I can pretty honestly say that I'm not very happy with my husband.

Why, you ask?

Because he doesn't respond to my text messages.

Okay, so he just took over a new section at work and is generally "pretty busy," while I'm just winding down and getting ready to start maternity leave ... but that's hardly an excuse. Because the things I have to say ... they're important.

Here is a sampling of some of the text messages I have sent to Jesse, only to have him ignore them like an unrequited high five or an awkwardly-timed and heinous fart:

"My enchilada sunk down into the beans when I heated it and now it's like the la brea tar pits in there."

"I'm pretending the enchilada is a dying mammoth."

"It drowned in the beans :("

Okay it turns out that all the other texts were just me going on about the iPhone game Megapolis, which lets you build a fake city and run it however you like. My city is really coming along and I'm quite pleased with it. I'm a day away from completing my airport runway, for chrissakes! My zoo will be complete in under 8 hours. Pretty soon I'll be able to afford the TV tower I've been eyeballing, and then I can start the hard job of saving up the $490K it will cost me to build the cinematography museum.

Clearly, this is some important shit.


And then when Jesse finally calls me, it's just to tell me how he bought a magazine and then he wants to, like, read the magazine while he's on the phone with me? Like I'm just supposed to sit there and listen to him read a magazine?!? I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH BATTERY LIFE FOR THIS! I HAVE A CITY TO RUN!!!

I don't even think there's any point in us going to relationship counseling for this. I already know how it's going to turn out:

Most of my texts these days are from Amazon, telling me my packages have either been shipped, are on a carrier vehicle for delivery, or have been delivered. I gave Amazon its own special ringtone because these texts make me so excited.

I BET AMAZON WOULD RESPOND TO TEXTS ABOUT MEGAPOLIS, JESSE.

You know what, Amazon? You're right. I AM a superstar!

Things that are gross

Fair warning -- from here on out, blog posts might be a little bit spotty. Because let's face it -- I'm pretty distracted with the fact that HOLY JESUS I AM GOING TO HAVE A BABY VERY SOON.

Plus, I'm very much the plump grump. Crampy and cranky. Harrumph. HARRUMPH I SAY.

But I'll totally still post when I'm in the mood and when I have something to say!

Today I don't really, but that's okay. Instead I'll just rant about a couple of things that are really gross to me, because I am insane and extremely anal. And then we can all have a laugh.


A few days ago, some moron on the internet implied that I am not ready to be a mother because my tolerance for "gross" is way too low. That if I don't lower my standards a little, I'm just going to spend the next several months/years freaking out constantly because babies do stuff that is GROSS and clearly I am not able to handle it.

To this, I say "BALDERDASH!"  I am the grossest person I know. I once drank a whole Gatorade on an empty stomach when I woke up with a hangover, and then vomited up the entire Gatorade twenty seconds later. It was in my stomach so briefly that it tasted exactly the same coming up as it did going down. It was even still refreshingly cold. The way I see it, I got to enjoy that Gatorade TWICE.

I eat food that is so old it is starting to have its own personality.

I eat food that other people have touched, breathed on, even tasted already. I don't care. Their germs make me strong.

I walk around barefoot just about anywhere. Sometimes I step in something sticky without knowing what it is. I just rub my foot in some dirt or sand to get the sticky off, and move on with my life.

But ...


BUT ...


None of that means I can handle the situations/items listed below:

1

The Kitchen Sink

The kitchen sink is a horrible, awful, no-good disgusting place. I'm not talking about germs and stuff -- yeah, obviously it's full of germs, but you can kill germs pretty easily with a couple shots of bleach spray. But for me, bleach spray will never be sufficient to clean a sink. It is simply too gross for any cleaning products to fully handle.

Sure it looks innocent, but don't trust it.

You see, the kitchen sink is basically the garbage can except it's always wet. A big sloppy wet garbage can. I put lots of things down the garbage disposal, and I'm pretty sure that if they wanted to, the raw chicken bits and super old moldy leftovers I grind up in there could just crawl back up into the sink. Hell, they probably do so every night. They have parties while I sleep.

"Wahoo, it's a sink party! Let's all poop in here too!!!"

Therefore, there is only one time that the sink can truly be considered "clean": after I have rubber-gloves Cometed the whole thing out, left the Comet on there to disinfect for the full ten minutes, then washed it all off, and then carefully dried the entire inside of the sink with paper towels. The guts and moldy leftovers can't climb up a dry sink, you see.

Thus, the sink is clean!!! And it will be clean right up until someone turns the water on and then it will be dirty again because the water will give the raw chicken bits that still somehow live in the garbage disposal the opportunity to crawl back up and party.

No. Gross. If my hand so much as accidentally brushes against the bare metal of the sink, it will need to immediately be washed with soap.

Like, IMMEDIATELY.

This from the girl who steps barefoot in mysterious sticky things and just rubs her foot in some dirt to get it clean.

2

The Bathtub

If you're going to fill your tub with water and plunk your naked ass down in there, the tub better be clean first.

And I don't just mean regular clean, ol' boy. It has to be SPOTLESS. It must be Cometed out to the same standards as the kitchen sink, except maybe even more because I have orifices that will be in that water. I mean, what if a hair gets loose and floats around the water with you? What if it touches you?? WHAT IF IT'S NOT YOUR HAIR? 

WHAT IF A WET HAIR THAT ISN'T YOURS TOUCHES YOU ON YOUR ORIFICE.

Some women shave their legs in the bath. These people should have to go to jail.

3

Water Parks

When I was in 8th grade, I went on a class trip to Washington, DC. One of the days of the trip, we all got to go to a water park. Awesome! I loved water parks back then!!!!!

Then one of the guys in our class group somehow had an incident, and ...

DON'T READ THIS PART IF YOU'RE SQUEAMISH.

SERIOUSLY DON'T READ THIS PART. SKIP OVER THE SMALL TEXT.

His big toenail got caught in a seam and was ripped in half on a water slide, and when he was sitting at the bottom of the slide getting first aid, the water rushing past him was running red with his blood like it was real life Jaws or something. I assume the other half of his toenail just washed right on down out of there.




Try to get that image out of your head next time you look down a water slide. GO AHEAD AND TRY.


So you know what? Maybe I'm not ready to have a baby. Maybe the gross of the baby pooping in a diaper is just going to blow my mind. But I don't think so. I think as long as all her toenails stay on, I'll be just fine.

And as long as she stays away from the sink.

You never know what's going on in there when you're not looking.

NO!!!!

The Indignities of Pregnancy: I OWN ADULT DIAPERS.

Today's subject is something that's just a little bit taboo. Something most people don't want to bring up. But it's something we really need to discuss.

We're going to talk about adult diapers.

And paranoia.

And how paranoia leads to adult diapers.


First, let me share with you a statistic that may surprise you: less than 15% of pregnant women will experience their water breaking before labor begins (I found this number on the internet so you know it's accurate). It's far more likely that the ol' water won't break until late labor, when you've already probably peed yourself a bunch of times so it's not like anyone even notices or cares.

This is really surprising to me, because 1) in movies and on TV, roughly 100% of pregnant women's labors will start with their water breaking (usually in a hilariously inconvenient and embarrassing situation), and 2) of all the people I know who have given birth, approximately 100% of them had their labors start with their water breaking (usually in a hilariously inconvenient and embarrassing situation).

So f**k that 15% figure -- we all know it's closer to a 125% probability that one day I'll just be minding my own business and then WHOOSH -- my water will break and that will be my clue that it's time to have a baby. And whenever I am faced with a 140% probability of something bad happening, I take precautions.

Because that "water" that breaks ... it ain't water, kiddos.

So I bought a package of adult diapers, and last night, for the first time, I wore one over my underoos when I went to bed. Just in case.

Here are a few facts about adult diapers that you may not have known.

1

YOU WILL LOOK F**KING RIDICULOUS IN THEM

It turns out that adult diapers are basically just enormous maxi pads that have been made into underwear through the addition of lots of elastic and paper. Mine are a size Small and they still reach most of the way up to my waist. Or at least, they would, if I didn't have a giant pregnant belly that they can't get around ... so the front has to remain below the belly.

This makes the bottom of the diaper even baggier than it would be on a normal person.

Is it as bad as this? No, but nothing is as bad as this..

2

THEY WILL TURN YOU INTO A TODDLER, APPARENTLY

I was telling my mother about my plan to wear adult diapers at night so there are no disasters in our bed, and she raised a concern that I had never thought of before. Probably because it's completely ridiculous.

She worried that because of the diaper, if my water were to break, I might not even notice. I might just sleep right through it.

You see, when you're potty-training a toddler, part of the danger of letting them wear Pull-Ups diapers is that they can't feel when they're wet so they'll never learn to control when they pee. You have to put them in regular underwear even though it means lots of messes, because it's the only way they'll learn what "wet" feels like.

And since I am ALSO a toddler, the diaper will prevent me from noticing that my drawers are full of liquid. I'll just sleep a full eight hours with my underoos all soaked, because the diaper will have regressed me back to when I was 2 and pissed myself on the daily.

Makes sense, mom. Makes sense.

3

YOUR SPOUSE WILL NOT FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE

Apparently it's hard to be sexually attracted to someone who sleeps in a diaper.

Ohhh whatever, Jesse. Would I be MORE attractive if we found ourselves stripping the bed at 2am, frantically scrubbing the mattress to keep it from staining? Throwing away my body pillow, which I love, because it now "smells weird" and will never be the same again?

At least the diapers are a size Small. Just think -- there are people out there who not only wear adult diapers to bed every night, but have to wear the size XL ones. So ... it could be a lot worse.

And then there are the practical concerns. I mean, wearing the diaper at night makes sense -- I don't want to mess the bed. But what about during the evenings when we're sitting on the couch watching TV? Our couch cushions are filled with goose down. Do I need to do the math for you?

So really, I should start wearing the diaper pretty much as soon as I get home from work. Get home, shower, diaper up.

But then I have to wonder -- when did my life take this turn? When did I become the kind of person who lounges on the couch in a nightgown and a diaper, reading a book about breastfeeding and screaming "I asked for that cupcake like five f**king minutes ago! What's the bloody holdup?!?!?"

I used to be hot. I used to be hip. 

Now my nickname around the house is "the plump grump," and I can't even get mad because if I had to pick just a couple of traits to describe myself at this point, it would be "large" and "frequently irritable."

And "wears diapers."


And the worst part of it is, even though there's a 160% chance my water will break unexpectedly, all these diaper-related precautions just mean that my water will find a way to break during the six seconds per day that I'm not protected by an elderly person's shit-catcher. You know it will.

Late pregnancy, man. Killin' me.

Then once I got the cupcakes I had to decide which flavor to eat first and honestly the whole thing was just an ordeal.

Dear Patent: When is it okay to use Siri?

Here is a letter I received recently:*

Dear Patent,

I just got a new iPhone 4S and I am so excited to finally have access to the handy voice recognition software, Siri! Using Siri can be so helpful. My question is, are there times when it is and is not appropriate to use Siri? I trust your judgment and you have never led me astray so far. Please advise.

Sincerely,
Technologically Uncertain in Seattle

*wrote myself just now


Dear Technologically Uncertain in Seattle,

You were right to ask me about this. When it comes to orally telling your phone to do things, there are definitely some ground rules that you need to follow if you want to avoid looking and acting like a complete dumbass. Luckily for you, I am a generous person and willing to share my wisdom with all. Please read the following set of rules on when it is okay to use Siri, and if you stick to them, you should be fine!



Rule #1: It is fully acceptable to use Siri to program your GPS while driving.

Do you often forget to start up your mapping app before you start driving, and then suddenly you're merging onto the freeway and it dawns on you that you don't actually know how to get to where you're going? ME TOO!!! 

So in this situation, it's totally okay to boop-boop "Take me to Jim-Bob's Flophouse in Woodinville!" and then Siri will beep-beep back and suddenly your phone is all "in a quarter mile, exit right" and your life is good. Nobody will think less of you for this, because actually trying to manually type an address into a phone while driving is straight dangerous, yo.

Siri is so helpful and non-judgmental!

BUT -- 
It is NOT okay to use Siri to program your GPS when you're not driving

If you're sitting on your couch trying to see how far it is to the nearest Hooters, just type it into Google maps like a normal person. Don't be such a lazy asshole.

Rule #2: It is moderately acceptable to use Siri to type a text message while you're driving, if the text is very important

Texting while driving is dangerous! Don't do it!

Oh, but you say it's an emergency? You need to let your mom know you're going to be late to her Brazilian wax because there's a huge crash on the 99? Well in that case, Siri is happy to help you type the text without contributing your own vehicle to the crash on the 99.

That's really the part your Mom needed you there for anyway.

BUT -- 
It's pretty much not okay to use Siri to type a text message in any other situation

This is because: 1) talk-to-text technology is notoriously bad, so the odds are good you'll end up sending a text that looks like this:

You sent that to your Grandmother, you f**king sociopath.

And 2) Don't be such a lazy asshole. If you REALLY can't be bothered to communicate by typing, your phone has this neat function that lets you use your voice to communicate. IT IS KNOWN AS 'MAKING AN ACTUAL PHONE CALL' and has shown itself to be much more reliable than texts dictated to and read by Siri.

Also, "brick a shit" is the phrase of the day today. Try to use it in a sentence.


Rule #3: It is NEVER acceptable to use Siri for a Google search

Trust me, nobody -- NOBODY -- wants to hear whatever dumbass shit you're Googling. 

Don't be such a lazy asshole.

Oh boy. This guy's in for a disappointment.

I'm gonna go ahead and save you some time by letting you know that isn't normal.

A valid question.

I feel like I've made my point, but at the same time I feel like I'm not finished coming up with ridiculous Google searches, so I'm just going to keep going.

There are a number of possible reasons. All of them are bad.

Weirdo.

Sigh.

In conclusion, it's almost never acceptable to use Siri unless you're driving, and even then it's still not really acceptable.

Just deal with it, you lazy asshole.

And maybe make some friends, because you're talking out loud to your phone's AI like some kind of f**king psychopath.

Reel it in, dude. Reel it in.

*waits patiently* .........

I ruined some poor guy's birthday

I was going to write a full-on good post for today but then I had a bunch of other stuff to do so now you're going to be stuck with this instead. I'll write the full-on good post for Wednesday, I promise!

I'm going to start by opining on the amazing power of the pregnant belly to mesmerize and horrify people. With a shirt on over it, it's just a big ol' ball of belly. Nothing to see.

But bare, uncovered, shirtless? It is a thing of amazing power.

Because it's kind of gross and most people don't want to look at it.

I understand this. I felt the same way before I was pregnant. Even now, the only pregnant belly I have any interest in looking at is my own. Thankfully, it is as of yet not corrupted by stretch marks, and is mostly just big and round and smooth. But it's still not something people want to look at.

So on Friday night, we went out to a pub crawl with our running club. One of the guys in the club was celebrating his birthday, and so the ladies decided that for his birthday present, they would all stand in a line and lift their shirts -- all at the same time, just for a moment.

The ladies got into their line in front of the birthday boy, and to everyone's incredible shock, I joined the line as well. Those silly suckers; they thought I was going to flash my boobs. Haha honestly, it's like they haven't even met me. 

In truth, my intentions were far more sinister.

So on the count of three, all the ladies lifted their shirts, and the birthday boy was happily greeted by several sets of boobs. 

And I pulled my shirt up halfway, and pulled down my maternity support girdle (remember this beautiful bitch here?) 

and started rubbing my stomach like a troll. And the birthday boy, once gleefully distracted by boobs, now found himself staring at me rubbing my giant bare pregnant belly. He was mesmerized, unable to look away. Unable to look back at the boobs. And then the boobs were put away, and I licked my finger and rubbed it against my popped-out belly button.

And that's how you ruin someone's birthday!


And now, since that story alone does not a full post maketh, here are some pictures I drew!

This is a Donkel. I drew one on the white board on our fridge at home, hoping to improve morale around the house, and productivity went up 15%! 

The donkel is just inspiring like that.

This is an abstract that kinda looked like a dinosaur so I went with it:

And this is a dinosaur that kinda looked like an abstract so I went with it:

God, I am such a bad artist. I mean, SUCH a bad artist. I can't wait to see what kind of awful shit my kid ends up drawing when she gets older. Could it be worse than this shit here? I'm going to put it all up on the fridge, not just to make her feel accomplished but because I will be genuinely impressed by how f**king terrible it's going to be.

HAPPY MONDAY EVERYONE!!!

I am the retail master. Amazon and Target are my b*tches!

Today's post is once again an instructional post -- today, it's about how to pull one over on large retail companies. Open up your brains and prepare to learn!!

Lesson 1: Returning stuff

Some people think that if you decide to return something to a store, you have to return it to the same store you bought it from. I am here to tell you that is nonsense!! Any store that also sells the item in question will happily take your return without a receipt in exchange for store credit.

For example, yesterday I wanted to exchange something I had ordered on Amazon. I figured it would be a pain to return it to Amazon, and the thing I wanted to exchange it for was sold cheaper at Target anyway. So guess what I did? I went to Target and returned the unopened, unused Amazon item for store credit. Then I went and picked out the item that I had decided I wanted instead, which cost more than the original item. I bought the new item, using up my store credit plus another $15 of my own money.

TAKE THAT, TARGET. NOW YOU CAN RESELL THE UNOPENED ITEM I RETURNED, PLUS YOU MANAGED TO GET MORE MONEY OUT OF ME.

That's how you pull one over on Target, guys.

I'm laughin' all the way to the bank on that one.

You can pull similar tricks at other stores too! Just make sure that whatever you end up buying costs more than what you're returning, and they won't care because they're making money on you.

Making money on you ... while you swindle them.

Also, I don't really know what "swindling" is.


Lesson 2: Promo Codes

This is the only actually useful lesson in this entire post, so pay attention.

If you're buying something online and you get to the checkout page and see a box where you can enter a "coupon or promo code," STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

DON'T BE A FOOL ABOUT THIS.

There are promo codes and coupon codes for all kinds of things, and there's this great thing called "the internet" where people go to share all the promo and coupon codes they've found. And lots of times, if you Google the name of the company and "promo code," the internet will happily tell you a few coupon codes to try entering to save money. I just bought something from Brookstone the other day and Googled a coupon code for $10 off. Just like that. I spent two seconds doing a quick search and saved $10.

Always do this. Always. It is neither immoral nor illegal. It's just smart.


Lesson 3: Free shipping

I am the worst about remembering to buy everything I need all at once. I'll do an Amazon order, and then three days later I'll realize there's another book about the various colors of baby shit and what they mean and I will desperately want it right that second so I'll have to place another order.

But as we all well know, Amazon only gives you free shipping on orders over $25 (unless you have Prime which I don't because that shiz costs money, yo). And you know what? Paying for shipping is a ripoff.

So if you want to pull one over on Amazon, you need to make sure your order is over $25 every time.

Here's what I do: I put the book about baby shit into my cart and then I see how much more I have to spend to get free shipping. Then I go to our baby registry and start adding stuff to my cart until I hit like $30. Oh, what's that? FREE SHIPPING YOU SAY?!?! YOU'RE GODDAMNED RIGHT I GET FREE SHIPPING NOW.

You know that old saying "you gotta spend money to make money"? Well, sometimes you have to spend $24 on stupid shit you don't really need in order to save $4 on shipping. It's like driving 20 miles out of the way to find slightly cheaper gas, or driving 40 miles to find an ATM that doesn't charge fees for out-of-bank transactions. It's just what a smart person does.

I laugh all the way to the bank on that one too. Amazon, consider yourself pwned. PWNED.

I have done this twice now in the last week. Man, I almost feel bad for poor Amazon, being subject to so many of my schemes in such a short period of time. They could have made me pay for shipping twice. Those idiots!


Lesson 4: Spending too much money on dumb crap

On Halloween, our baby will be roughly 3 weeks old, probably. So I bought her a Halloween costume.

It is a Snow White dress, size Newborn.

It is adorable.

She will probably shit/puke on it within four minutes of me putting it on her.

I paid $20 for it.

Take that, Babies R Us. Consider yourself swindled.


Also, can someone please explain to me what "swindled" is? I really feel like I'm not quite getting it.

The dead-eyed doll baby versus the tittie

In case you were curious as to whether or not Jesse and I were really mature enough to become parents, let me just go ahead and answer that for you with a story.

Last night, we went to a breastfeeding class on the Army post. Neither of us wanted to go, but breastfeeding is apparently pretty tricky and kind of important and worth taking a two-hour class on. So we went. Plus, it was free.

When we got there, I signed in on the sign-in sheet, which asked for, among other things, the mother's date of birth. Upon scanning the rest of the list of people who had signed in for the class, I noticed that I was the oldest mother there -- by three years. Please note that I am 27. 

One girl listed her birth date as November 1994.

1994.

Like, I REMEMBER 1994. Jesse was in middle school in 1994.

After vomiting for 15 or 20 minutes about that, I returned to my seat and got out my notebook so that I could begin to learn. Learn about the magic of breastfeeding.

The first hour or so of the class went well -- we absorbed a lot of information and sat quietly and behaved ourselves. But then it was time to grab our practice dolls and try to master the cross-arm cradle hold.

And that's when things got silly.

You see, each couple got to grab two props. One was a little doll, and the other was a stuffed boob with an exaggeratedly large nipple on it. I asked Jesse to grab our props for us while I ran to the bathroom, and when I got back I discovered that he had sat the doll upright on the seat next to him with the stuffed boob in its lap. The doll's hands were both on the enormous nipple like it was trying to make a clay pot on a potter's wheel.

I immediately started to laugh.

Then I picked up the baby and took a closer look, and was immediately horrified. It was incredibly realistic, but had the deadest doll eyes I've ever seen. I was mesmerized and terrified at the same time. I couldn't look away. I started moving the baby's face toward Jesse, and he pushed the doll away. "Knock it off!" he laughed.

Then I did it again. "Quit it!" he said, only smiling this time.

I took the baby around the side and slowly brought it into his field of vision. "Stop!" he demanded, with some panic creeping into his voice.

I made the baby dance, and Jesse grabbed it away from me. "I don't want to look at that thing anymore!" he cried. "It's creepy!"

And he was right. It was creepy.

I really wish I had taken a picture of our baby, which was infinitely creepier than this one.

Then it was time to turn our attention to the stuffed boob, and really practice some breastfeeding techniques with our dead-eyed doll baby.

We practiced four techniques in particular that I think will really come in handy once our real baby arrives. Please read this entire section in your best impression of famed British documentary narrator Richard Attenborough:


The Pie Smash:

Here we find the tittie out for a hunt. He appears to have found a dead-eyed doll baby playing in the grass. This is very unusual -- dead-eyed doll babies are usually holed up their dens by this time of night. 

The dead-eyed doll baby is completely oblivious to the approach of the hungry tittie, as dead-eyed doll babies have terrible night vision and rely almost solely on their acute sense of smell to detect threats. However, the tittie has rolled in mud to mask its scent, making it as good as invisible to this dead-eyed doll baby.

The tittie stalks the dead-eyed doll baby, getting incredibly close without any reaction whatsoever from the baby.

Suddenly, the tittie strikes, smacking its enormous nipple directly into the face of the dead-eyed doll baby. Stunned, the dead-eyed doll baby is unable to react as the tittie smacks it in the face a second time, rendering it unconscious.

The tittie begins to eat the dead-eyed doll baby alive. It is the first meal he's had in days, and he will likely devour the entire carcass within an hour.


The Smother:

The tittie has found another dead-eyed doll baby and is approaching silently from the north. The dead-eyed doll baby is distracted by waving its arms around, and does not notice the tittie's approach.

Ah, the dead-eyed doll baby has finally spotted the tittie! He begins to run, and the tittie gives chase.

Unfortunately, the dead-eyed doll baby is no match for the adult tittie's superior speed and agility. The tittie lunges at the dead-eyed doll baby, knocking him to the ground. The tittie then leaps onto the dead-eyed doll baby's face, covering his mouth and nose with his enormous nipple and slowly smothering him to death. The baby struggles at first, but eventually his struggles subside and he is suffocated by the immense strength of the tittie.

The tittie then drags his kill back to his den, where it will be shared with the rest of the pack. If any of the other titties have also managed to make kills today, this will be a great victory for the struggling pack.


The Reptile:

Here we have the unusually aggressive female dead-eyed doll baby. She has cubs to feed, and will kill anything she can catch -- and today it appears she has set her sights on a tittie.

The tittie is napping in the afternoon sun, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. The dead-eyed doll baby approaches silently, staying hidden behind tufts of grass and moving so slowly it seems she hardly gets any closer at all.

She is now mere inches from the tittie. She stops, perhaps to inspect her target. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, she strikes at the tittie, grabbing it in her powerful jaws and immediately breaking the tittie's back. The tittie struggles briefly before succumbing to the dead-eyed doll baby's superior strength. The dead-eyed doll baby will spend the next hour swallowing the tittie whole, and will turn its nourishment into milk for her cubs.


The Zombie:

A particularly desperate male dead-eyed doll baby has not eaten in weeks, but has just spotted a young tittie that has been separated from her mother. Recognizing his opportunity, the dead-eyed doll baby does not hesitate. He sprints toward the young tittie at full speed.

The tittie sees the baby just before he is able to grab her, and tries to run, but alas she noticed him too late. The dead-eyed doll baby snatches the tittie in his jaws and immediately begins to tear her flesh away in ragged chunks. The tittie's mother can only look on in horror -- there is nothing she can do now. 

______________________________________________

By the time we had finished smashing the doll baby's face into the boob at full speed over and over again, I was laughing so hard my face was purple and I had cried all my eye makeup in rivulets down my cheeks. 

That's when Jesse pointed out that another dead-eyed doll baby appeared to be watching us from across the aisle -- this baby's mother had apparently finished practicing and had set her baby on her armrest with its creepy doll face smirking at us.

And I started laughing again.

I thought I was going to die. I laughed so hard I almost threw up.


And that girl that was born in 1994? She mastered the cross-arm cradle hold while we were still busy trying to smother our baby to death with a comically large stuffed breast.


So ... yeah. I think we'll be pretty good parents, no?

Arts and crafts time! Drawing more shit that babies like

My niece is now almost a year old, and that baby is toy-crazy. She loves all the really interactive stuff, with lots of buttons that make lights and songs and sounds play. She wants you to watch her play with the toy, and act like you're super excited and amazed every time she pushes a button and a song plays. It's totally adorable and I love playing with kids that age.

So naturally, I started thinking about what kinds of toys I should be accumulating for my own soon-to-be offspring. I mean, I know they don't really PLAY much at first, but surely there's gotta be some stuff that newborn babies like, and I should try and have that stuff on hand before she's born, right?

So I started doing some more research into what really young babies like to do with their awake-time, hoping that I could maybe take a weekend to make a few things that the baby will enjoy.

Now you get to benefit from my research! Let's get down to arts and crafts business to make some awesome toys for babies!!! Yeah, arts and crafts! Don't worry if you're not that crafty -- this handy guide makes it easy for ANYONE to contribute to a newborn baby's toy bin!


When babies are first born, their vision is pretty terrible. They can only see like a foot in front of their face, and they can't really handle a lot of colors because their brains aren't developed enough. So if you were to show them a neat picture like this, they'd be totally overstimulated:

It was the blue parallelogram that took it too far.

Nope, if you want to mesmerize and enthrall a newborn baby with some killer artwork, I recommend starting with something like this:

Seriously.

Supposedly the baby will f**king stare at this shit for like 10 minutes until she falls asleep. 

A f**king line. A black line on a white background.

When the baby gets a little older, you can really start to branch out on your artwork. For example, you can maybe make your baby something that looks like this:

You'll want to stick with bright primary colors so you don't overwhelm them.

Or, if you've got a real knack for art, you can ditch the ruler and make something like this instead:

Babies are basically tiny grownups who have done so much acid you are genuinely worried they might stay that way forever.

If you want to totally blow their minds (but be careful not to overstimulate them, or you'll wind up with a fussy baby that won't nap), you can go so far as to draw something like this:

Don't even dream of showing them the French flag until they're at least a month old. Their tiny little soft heads will explode.

So, the moral of the story is ... I guess I don't need to worry about buying any toys for a good long while. Because this:

Dude, parallel lines of differing thickness? Get the f**k out of here. Next you're gonna tell me men have walked on the moon.

... is like the greatest thing on earth as far as a baby is concerned.

Babies are dumb, y'all.


Still no word on what would happen if you showed them this, though:

They'd probably love it.