This bitch-ass prairie wind just blew my skirt up in front of a group of suits smoking outside the building. It's a flippy, swishy jersey skirt too, so my frantic attempts to keep it down were all but ineffectual. Also, BRIGHT red sheer panties. Joy! What? They're stretchy and don't show lines.
I guess since I can't go back and scrape my modesty up off the sidewalk, then I hope they enjoyed their tawdry glimpse of nine-month pregnant squishmitten.
Showing posts with label preg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preg. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Peckerhead
It seems like lately I've been subjected to such awesome conversations that I think this warrants the creation of a new label: epic chats. So here's another one I had last night with a guy in my class. He was actually much more loquacious than this, volunteered many details about the procedure, but I'll truncate the conversation for space and attention's sake.
Him: When's your baby due? Know what it is?
Me: Mid-July and it's a boy.
Him: Me and my wife, we just had our third boy. We were trying for a girl but no dice.
Me: Oh, you gonna try again or are three rug rats enough for you?
Him: Nah, I got the old snip-snip last week. She has a girl from her first marriage anyway, so we got four kids total. We're both way too fertile I guess, seems like every time I poked her she got pregnant!
Me: Ah, heh. At least you know when you're ready to stop!
Him: Yeah, a vasectomy ain't too bad. Your husband-- you guys are married?-- he ever want one, mine was great. I just walked in there, he cupped my junk for a bit while we talked about it. Then the procedure took like 15 minutes. They don't let you watch so I just read a magazine while they shaved me and put some numbing gel on my bits, then I felt a little pinch on my sac skin for the local. And then I didn't feel nothing else.
Me: Oh.....how long before you got to walk out of there?
Him: About an hour. And my hair's starting to grow back so I don't look like a twink no more, my wife liked to tease me that I have gay balls 'cause they were hairless. And then yesterday I got a text from the doctor sayin "How's your pecker doin?" Haha! You know it's a good doctor when they ask about your pecker.
SO. For all you peckerheads out there, you now have some very specific criteria for choosing your next vasectomist.
Him: When's your baby due? Know what it is?
Me: Mid-July and it's a boy.
Him: Me and my wife, we just had our third boy. We were trying for a girl but no dice.
Me: Oh, you gonna try again or are three rug rats enough for you?
Him: Nah, I got the old snip-snip last week. She has a girl from her first marriage anyway, so we got four kids total. We're both way too fertile I guess, seems like every time I poked her she got pregnant!
Me: Ah, heh. At least you know when you're ready to stop!
Him: Yeah, a vasectomy ain't too bad. Your husband-- you guys are married?-- he ever want one, mine was great. I just walked in there, he cupped my junk for a bit while we talked about it. Then the procedure took like 15 minutes. They don't let you watch so I just read a magazine while they shaved me and put some numbing gel on my bits, then I felt a little pinch on my sac skin for the local. And then I didn't feel nothing else.
Me: Oh.....how long before you got to walk out of there?
Him: About an hour. And my hair's starting to grow back so I don't look like a twink no more, my wife liked to tease me that I have gay balls 'cause they were hairless. And then yesterday I got a text from the doctor sayin "How's your pecker doin?" Haha! You know it's a good doctor when they ask about your pecker.
SO. For all you peckerheads out there, you now have some very specific criteria for choosing your next vasectomist.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
What Not to Say
The director of my department has been here for less than a year. Super nice dude with a penchant for long-windedness and excessive formality, which made what just transpired extra weird. He's from another country so he has a pronounced accent. Accordingly, assign the accent of your choice to the below interaction.
Director: I learned you are expecting! Congratulations! Give me a hug!
Me: Thank you! Um, okay. *commence awkward hug*
Director: You are how far along? You are not exercising, are you?
Me: 26 weeks, and I am. I just do my usual yoga, nothing too strenuous.
Director: Oh, because my wife, she was a workout freak and because of it, she lost our child recently.
Me: Oh gosh, I'm so sorry about your baby!
Director: Yes. She was always running (he runs in place, tie flapping) and lifting weights (he mimes weightlifting, huffing and puffing his cheeks) and I followed her around the gym sometimes asking her to cool it (he outstretches his arms as if in supplication), but she would not. And then the baby died. So don't you exercise too hard! No running, it will fall right out!
Me: .......
Director: It was probably my boy, too. You are having a boy?
Me: *nod*
Director: Oh, that is such a joy for your husband! I have had three girls. Such a disappointment.
Me: Oh but, nobody can love you quite like your little girls can! I'm sure they adore you.
Director: The younger two, they are okay. The oldest, all she says to me is "Hey! Can I have some money." Well no, it doesn't work like that! But you don't have to worry, you are having a boy. It is so important for a man to have his boy.
Some thoughts--
*As long as a woman has a workout routine firmly-established, continuing it throughout a pregnancy is generally accepted as fine with a doctor's okay.
*However, on what planet is it okay to trash one's wife, who actually suffered the miscarriage, for such a tragedy?
*Why would someone share such an intimate story with a subordinate one barely knows?
*Do not scold me for engaging in something as low-impact as yoga. Ever.
*What if I was having a girl?
*Did he not notice that I am female, which is how I'm able to carry a child in the first place, and therefore someone else's daughter? A much-loved one, I might add.
*Despite my laughing in disbelief as I tell this story, I have to say-- what a terribly, terribly sad man.
*And how much sadder is his wife to be married to someone who blames her so completely that he'd feel free to tell me about it?
As he walked away, I noticed his pant leg was hooked up over the garter on his sock, showing the back of his bristly calf. A result of the running in place. It looked stupid. But I didn't say anything.
Director: I learned you are expecting! Congratulations! Give me a hug!
Me: Thank you! Um, okay. *commence awkward hug*
Director: You are how far along? You are not exercising, are you?
Me: 26 weeks, and I am. I just do my usual yoga, nothing too strenuous.
Director: Oh, because my wife, she was a workout freak and because of it, she lost our child recently.
Me: Oh gosh, I'm so sorry about your baby!
Director: Yes. She was always running (he runs in place, tie flapping) and lifting weights (he mimes weightlifting, huffing and puffing his cheeks) and I followed her around the gym sometimes asking her to cool it (he outstretches his arms as if in supplication), but she would not. And then the baby died. So don't you exercise too hard! No running, it will fall right out!
Me: .......
Director: It was probably my boy, too. You are having a boy?
Me: *nod*
Director: Oh, that is such a joy for your husband! I have had three girls. Such a disappointment.
Me: Oh but, nobody can love you quite like your little girls can! I'm sure they adore you.
Director: The younger two, they are okay. The oldest, all she says to me is "Hey! Can I have some money." Well no, it doesn't work like that! But you don't have to worry, you are having a boy. It is so important for a man to have his boy.
Some thoughts--
*As long as a woman has a workout routine firmly-established, continuing it throughout a pregnancy is generally accepted as fine with a doctor's okay.
*However, on what planet is it okay to trash one's wife, who actually suffered the miscarriage, for such a tragedy?
*Why would someone share such an intimate story with a subordinate one barely knows?
*Do not scold me for engaging in something as low-impact as yoga. Ever.
*What if I was having a girl?
*Did he not notice that I am female, which is how I'm able to carry a child in the first place, and therefore someone else's daughter? A much-loved one, I might add.
*Despite my laughing in disbelief as I tell this story, I have to say-- what a terribly, terribly sad man.
*And how much sadder is his wife to be married to someone who blames her so completely that he'd feel free to tell me about it?
As he walked away, I noticed his pant leg was hooked up over the garter on his sock, showing the back of his bristly calf. A result of the running in place. It looked stupid. But I didn't say anything.
Friday, February 3, 2012
American Knees
My uncle is alive! He's visiting from China until Monday, although thankfully not staying at my house. He's the one who Skyped with Chinese ladies and then flew to China "to teach English." I guess he actually does, since he gave me a two-sided business card sporting his name and title in both English and Chinese as a professor of English. But, you know, I can't read the Chinese side so maybe it really says something like "Head Cat Fattener." I'd never know the difference.
Source
He also smokes way more than he before, which is interesting since he said Chinese people are incredibly inhospitable to smokers. This confuses me since 1) surely there are smokers among the Chinese, and 2) where would he such a prolific amount of cigarettes if they are so inhospitable to smokers? Anyway. He wanted to smoke in my house and got cockblocked by my dad, causing him unforgivable irritation that he couldn't summarily imbue my walls and furniture with its exquisite scent and expose my unborn baby to secondhand smoke (oh yeah, I'm knocked up. I know, you totally care), and said he considered it really rude not to allow a guest to do what he wanted. Um. WAT. He also said he was bored at my house because, in the interest of pursuing creative avenues as well as combating my penchant for procrastination, we don't have cable. And he wanted to watch Fox News. Legitimate gripe, completely illegitimate desire. Grow a brain, dude. He also got irritated that he couldn't smoke in my other uncle's house, WHO, by the way, he is here specifically to visit because that uncle is hanging onto life by a single, cancer-ravaged thread. Irritated. That he couldn't smoke in that house. Unfortunately, I wasn't present when these things were said or else I'd have had some strong opinions on propriety and courtesy myself. Quite.
Source
Random footnote: anyone remember Ramona Quimby's nosmoking sign from the books? When she was trying to get her dad to stop smoking? I always think of that when I see any sign with a cigarette on it. Bueller? Bueller?
So, I did get to talk to my uncle for a little bit while he was grudgingly chain-smoking on my porch. Obvs, I grilled him for details on Chinese life and his Chinese ladyfriends. He didn't marry the one he originally went to meet and is living with a different one now, who he also won't marry because "she's a gold digger." He thinks this because she asked what he was going to do for income once he's forced to retire (supposedly in China the men have to retire at 65 and women at 55 or 60 or something, anyone want to confirm that? I'm feeling Google-lazy), which I actually thought was a legitimate question since he earned a total of about $300.00 last year. That ain't much to live on to start with, much less as a retiree. But, because I didn't yet know how annoyed he was with me about the whole smoking thing, I kept my mouth shut and say so. I only like to poke the bear when I already know it's riled up.
He did bring me a bunch of weird Chinese chocolates! I can't read the packaging so I have no idea what's in them. I brought them to work but my co-workers weren't interested in risking melamine poisoning and having a taste. Some of them had a nice flavor, like a mixture of cocoa and mocha, not as sweet as chocolates here. I liked those. Others tasted like mustiness and smoke. I didn't like those. I don't know why.
And with that, I leave you with a schoolyard chant I randomly remembered:
"Chinese, Japanese, American knees, look at these!"
Have a nice day, weirdos.
He also smokes way more than he before, which is interesting since he said Chinese people are incredibly inhospitable to smokers. This confuses me since 1) surely there are smokers among the Chinese, and 2) where would he such a prolific amount of cigarettes if they are so inhospitable to smokers? Anyway. He wanted to smoke in my house and got cockblocked by my dad, causing him unforgivable irritation that he couldn't summarily imbue my walls and furniture with its exquisite scent and expose my unborn baby to secondhand smoke (oh yeah, I'm knocked up. I know, you totally care), and said he considered it really rude not to allow a guest to do what he wanted. Um. WAT. He also said he was bored at my house because, in the interest of pursuing creative avenues as well as combating my penchant for procrastination, we don't have cable. And he wanted to watch Fox News. Legitimate gripe, completely illegitimate desire. Grow a brain, dude. He also got irritated that he couldn't smoke in my other uncle's house, WHO, by the way, he is here specifically to visit because that uncle is hanging onto life by a single, cancer-ravaged thread. Irritated. That he couldn't smoke in that house. Unfortunately, I wasn't present when these things were said or else I'd have had some strong opinions on propriety and courtesy myself. Quite.
Random footnote: anyone remember Ramona Quimby's nosmoking sign from the books? When she was trying to get her dad to stop smoking? I always think of that when I see any sign with a cigarette on it. Bueller? Bueller?
So, I did get to talk to my uncle for a little bit while he was grudgingly chain-smoking on my porch. Obvs, I grilled him for details on Chinese life and his Chinese ladyfriends. He didn't marry the one he originally went to meet and is living with a different one now, who he also won't marry because "she's a gold digger." He thinks this because she asked what he was going to do for income once he's forced to retire (supposedly in China the men have to retire at 65 and women at 55 or 60 or something, anyone want to confirm that? I'm feeling Google-lazy), which I actually thought was a legitimate question since he earned a total of about $300.00 last year. That ain't much to live on to start with, much less as a retiree. But, because I didn't yet know how annoyed he was with me about the whole smoking thing, I kept my mouth shut and say so. I only like to poke the bear when I already know it's riled up.
He did bring me a bunch of weird Chinese chocolates! I can't read the packaging so I have no idea what's in them. I brought them to work but my co-workers weren't interested in risking melamine poisoning and having a taste. Some of them had a nice flavor, like a mixture of cocoa and mocha, not as sweet as chocolates here. I liked those. Others tasted like mustiness and smoke. I didn't like those. I don't know why.
And with that, I leave you with a schoolyard chant I randomly remembered:
"Chinese, Japanese, American knees, look at these!"
Have a nice day, weirdos.
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