Tuesday, June 21, 2011

This Heifer's Gonna Calf!

Most of you who read this already know, but for those of you who don't...


We heard the heartbeat yesterday so I figured it was safe to tell EVERYONE. Plus, it's not official until you tell the internet right?!

None. If I could stop throwing up and get that sick taste out of my mouth I'm sure I'd be craving something. It's just not like me to not want to eat. I don't even know who I am anymore. The only thing that is different preference wise is that I used to like my water at room temp. NO ICE. Now I like it ice cold. It's like taking a nice, disturbed sip of Edward Cullen. "What's cooler than bein cool? ICE COLD!! alright, alright, alright alright, alright, alright!" (FYI for those who are over 40: that is a song by Outkast. I know, I know, It's hard to keep up. Just don't worry about it. Occupy your mind with something else. Go try to figure out the DVD player, I dare you. bahaha!)

On the "boo hoo" scale I think I'm doing very well. Sometimes I cry when I'm hanging my head over the toilet because I don't understand why my fetus hates me so bad. Other than that I've stayed pretty stable. On the "I could shove ice picks in your toenails, cut you with razor blades, and leave you for dead" scale I'm not doing so great. I just figure if I don't end up in prison at night, it's been a good day.

Here's a snippet of the advice we've been given so far:

"Dude, make your wife run and lot and rub aloe vera on her stomach so she doesn't get stretch marks."
-some D-bag Derrick carpools with

"Derrick, remember that milk is just for the baby"
-Chase, my cousin's husband

"I suggest you get a C-Section so that everything stays the same "down there". If you have the baby the other way you'll have shiz leaking out of there all the time"
-a D-bag I have the privilege of working with

(He follows this comment by saying "Hopefully that's not too invasive." Talking about my vagina with someone other than my doctor, invasive?! Pssshhh H-no! I'm totally fine with this. Hey, next time you take a dump let me know and I'll come rub your feet and you can tell me more about this vaginal leakage I'm about to experience, you sickening pig.)

"You can even go waterskiing, if you're careful. It's not the fall that will hurt the baby. You'll hurt the baby when the boat is pulling you out of the water. You'll get power douched."
-Dr. Dibble

To sum up: Pregnancy is Magical.
(That's it, I love it. I'm putting that saying in vinyl above my toilet)

Friday, June 10, 2011

Try not to eat me.

Have a wonderful weekend everyone
and remember you are all sex panthers to me
Grrr baby... Grrr!

Friday, June 3, 2011


I've reverted back to cutting my split ends and I'm giving myself a headache.
I decided that I will stop the madness and tell a personal tale.

I'm not a big potty talk person. Sure, I can joke around about how I pee my pants and pee the bed as an adult because it's a fact of my life and rather than be embarrassed about it, I have decided to embrace it. However, when it comes to "taking the Browns to the Superbowl" I'd like to pretend it just doesn't happen. I mean really? Why do our bodies do this? I figure Heavenly Father has a sense of humor that I just don't understand.

For my senior trip I went to Lake Powell for 5 or 6 days with a BFF and her aunt and uncle. If we had to pee we could go in the lake, but if we had to make a nasty we had to ask the aunt and uncle to turn the water on in the boat and then they would all be sitting on the beach while you're in the crapper and they knew EXACTLY what you were doing. My solution? I didn't poop the ENTIRE trip. That takes talent people. My friend was even like, "Uh, you didn't even go to the bathroom the whole time we were there." I was like, "Yeah, I guess I just never had to go." When in reality I lost 5 pounds when I finally made the release. Haha, I can't believe I'm typing all of this! Do you see what my job is doing to me?!

For all Derrick knows I NEVER fart or make number 2. It's been a little tricky to conceal for the last 5ish years, but I'd like to think I've done a stand up job! The real challenge started when the endometriosis came because it makes your body act like it has IBS. What is IBS? It's Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So basically, when it hits you gotta find a toilet like PRONTO or you're scewed. And don't even think about farting to release the pressure or you could shart! What is sharting? It's when you think you're gonna fart and instead you shiz your pants.

Once upon a time we lived in an apartment with only one bathroom. I was making dinner like a good slave... I mean wife (oopsy!) and Derelict was in the shower. Suddenly, a meteor expolded in my stomach and my intestines opened a can of serious whoop-A. I doubled over and weighed my options as fast as I could. A - Go into the bathroom and scar my husband for life with no chance for recovery. B - Try to hold it, drive 5 minutes to the nearest gas station and hope to make it back before Derrick notices I left. The gas station wins! Although, I was not fast enough. The truth came out and I've yet to live it down.

Last week I was having serious stomach issues. I was laying on the lovesack watching a show and decided to let a silent but deadly fart escape from my body. This episode of flatulence probably could have killed a small village. Derrick came downstairs and lifted up the blanket to sit by me and watch the movie. The stench hit his nostrils and he pulled back in disgust. His poor face was priceless! I still crack up every time I think about it. I'm cracking up right now. Good thing the rest of my office is at lunch. It leaves me wondering, why did I wait so long to unleash the beast?

I hope you enjoyed my very long story about pooping and farting.
Until next time.

-The Princess of Phenomenal Flatulence
(my sister is the Queen)