Thursday, April 26, 2012

The Cool Cucumber's Birth Story Part 2

Enjoy The Cool Cucumber's Birth Story Part 1? Dying to know what happens in Part 2? Doubtful, but here goes...

Well, after ADD Daddy talked me down from the ceiling, we decided to stay. At 1 p.m., they started pitocin. It wasn't bad at all and didn't seem to do much for quite a while. We just kind of sat around while I read magazines and played on the internet.

At 3 p.m., I was checked (much less painful this time) and had progressed to 2.5 cm. Wow. A whole centimeter in two hours. Start the ticker tape parade! To get things moving, they broke my water. It was crazy because I didn't have the epidural yet and I could feel everything gush out. It was awesome. With The Quiet Contemplator, they told me to get the epi before they broke my water because it would hurt like a son of a bitch. It didn't hurt at all. I am so glad I got to experience it. Though it was funny that every time I had to get up to go to the bathroom, more would "water" rush out. My poor husband. Ha!

After they broke my water, contractions started coming a heck of a lot faster. They weren't horrible yet, but by 4:30 p.m., I decided to get the epi. Nurse Ratched kept pissing me off and trying to get me to hold off, so I figured she would keep the anesthesiologist at bay for a while after I requested it, so I ordered one up.

At 4:45 p.m., the most important man in my life arrived: the anesthesiologist. He and his glorious 8-inch needle filled me with pure happiness--and drugs. While he was doing the procedure, another guy walked in and introduced himself as the anesthesiologist. I immediately said, "Who the hell is this guy then? The janitor?" Everyone was dying and the real guy had to stop working because he was laughing so hard. Oops.

At 5 p.m., with a body full of drugs, I got the MOST INTENSE itching of my life. I mean I was tearing my skin off it itched so bad. It is a common side effect of the epi but MY GOD! They also checked me again and I was at a 4. By this point I now had the epi, so I could have been checked by a gorilla and not even noticed. Ah. Heaven.

6:30 p.m. cathed and checked: 5 cm. God bless you, iPad. You make waiting for this damn baby to make his appearance enjoyable.

7:15 p.m. checked: 6 cm. Getting there. But still just more sitting around and playing on the internet. This is going to take FOREVER!

Or 45 more minutes. At 8 p.m. I felt like I had to poop. Bad. Nurse Ratched checked me and I was at 10 cm. Yes, I went 4 cm in 45 minutes with no pain. I am a bitch, I know.

At 8:30 p.m., my Dr arrived and I started pushing. After one and a half pushes, The Cool Cucumber made his debut at 8:34 p.m. Again, I know I am a bitch. Pushing babies out is just my skill in life. Some people are good at math, some can create culinary masterpieces, some can build rockets. I can shove watermelons out of my vagina at warp speed. Bonus.

After The Cucumber arrived, I kept waiting for them to take him away from me like they did The Quiet Contemplator. I just kept asking, "Is he OK? Are you going to take him away?" The nurses thought I was nuts. But they didn't take him away. He was perfect. And he was mine. And his sister loves the shit out of him. Still.

The end.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

The Cool Cucumber's Birth Story Part 1

OK, first off, those of you that had a WHOREndous birth story might want to leave now as you will probably want to stab me in the kidney with a rusty shiv after you are done reading this.

Gone? OK.

First the pre-story. Sunday, December 11, I woke up in the middle of the night with my hands and feet itching so bad I could Absolutely. Not. Stand. It. Knowing that it was a pregnancy symptom I had read about somewhere before, I decided to do the stupid thing and Google it. Bad idea. Turns out, the only thing it can really be is a condition called Cholestasis.

Basically, Cholestasis is when bile acids in the liver spill into the bloodstream. No big deal for me, but it can cause stillbirth in babies. HOLY FUCK! So I call my OB's after hours line and they tell me to go to the prenatal ER at my hospital. Since it is the middle of the night and The Quiet Contemplator and ADD Daddy were sleeping, and I was afraid I was just a crazy person and didn't really have this condition, I decided to wait until the morning after I dropped The Contemplator off at school to go in.

I go to the ER, they give me a bunch of bloodtests and basically send me home. The condition is so rare that the cholic acid test that diagnoses it takes days to get back. Sweet. It's not like I am sitting around worrying that I am going to give birth to a full-term dead baby or anything. A lot of lost paperwork, annoying nurses and bitchy lab techs later, and I finally get the results on December 21. A WEEK AND A HALF LATER! My cholic acid level was a 6.9 when it should be a 3 or lower. Not terrible, but not good so my Dr. decided to induce me the next morning.

We are told we would be called to come in for induction anywhere from 4 a.m. to 3 p.m. The hospital calls us at 9 a.m. and tells us to come in. Yay! Then they call back and tell us never mind because they just got a walk-in in labor. Doh!

We get the final call at 11 a.m. while we are cruising the mall after a teary goodbye dropping The Contemplator off at school. It was hard, I am not gonna lie. It was the last time I would see her and she would be my only baby. My heart broke a little. Then we headed to the hospital to officially make her a big sister.

We arrive at the hospital and I filled out the correct paperwork, gowned up and got my IV at 11:30 a.m.

At 12 p.m., the nurse with the biggest hands in the world came in to check my progression (fist me). This was the worst and most painful experience of my entire birth/life. It was mother fucking horrible and I mean that down to the letter. I thought I was going to die it hurt so bad. I screamed through the whole thing and finally shoved her off me via her gigantic old lady boobies and said, "Who fucking cares how far I am. Get off me!" Holy mother of god did it hurt. I feel horrible for my husband because you could see how upset he was with the whole situation. Turns out I was 1.5 cm. Thanks, sausage fingers.

After Nurse Ratched left, I broke down to ADD Daddy and told him I thought maybe this was a sign that induction was a bad idea. I am a big person for listening to signs and whatnot so I was scared. I was ready to pull my IV and bolt down the hallway clutching my Michael Kors bag with my ass hanging out of my gown and no shoes on. So did I? Stay tuned tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of, As My Vagina Turns.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

The Confessional

In college, my roommates and I went home for Christmas break only to find that we had left the fireplace flue open and a family of birds had broken in and had been holing up in our apartment for two weeks. Yeah, they all died there, too. Some in our underwear drawers, some in our beds, some on the couch… It was like a scene from a horror movie when we all returned home.


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Stupid sexy minivans.

Minivans must have mommy crack in them. I remember before I had kids, I thought they were the scourge of the earth. Why on earth would you drive one when there are so many other 7-passenger options out there that don't look like douche wagons. Then I had my first child and I started to see a little of their allure: remote doors, entertainment systems, Captain's seating, etc.

Now that I have two kids, I would give just about anything to trade our Mazda CX-7 in for a family truckster. I would love to be able to climb into the back of our moving vehicle (while ADD Daddy is driving, of course) to attend to my screaming infant without performing something that isn't even possible from those bendy people in Cirque du Soleil. Hey, you try climbing over the front headrests, the pumpkin seat and toddler seat in order to jam your legs into a space about 5 inches deep and your ass into a space about 1.5 feet wide. Especially after you just had a baby. Suck.

With two carseats jammed in our tiny backseat, it requires a lot of grunting and maneuvering to even get the pumpkin seat into its place, let alone getting The Quiet Contemplator into her carseat alongside it. And with said seats crammed in, we are unable to move the driver's or passenger's seats anywhere even close to comfortable in the legroom department. And our other car? Oh yeah, it's a YARIS. Basically, it is a car built for hamsters (though we loved this car before we had to fit our spawn into it)!

This is why new parent's should not be allowed to go car shopping. Lack of sleep, lack of knowledge of what we would actually needed and still trying to hang onto our last shred of pre-parental dignity led us to make a terrible car purchase after we had The Contemplator. Now that The Cool Cucumber is here, this decision makes me want to hit myself in the face with a shovel. Repeatedly.

I want a minivan. There. I said it. I feel dirty.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Kids make you do the darndest (most disgusting) things

Now that I have kids, I am often forced to man up and do disgusting things I never would have dreamed of before I had unprotected sex. Such as...

Poop with someone on my lap
That's right. I said it. I have gone number two with baby number one on my lap before. I am not proud of it, but when your baby is teething, sick, screaming, etc., you do what you have to do to keep them calm when nature calls. I look forward to my kids going to college when I can Finally. Go. To. The. Bathroom. By. My. Self. Again. And jesus christ, close the god damned door behind you so the neighbors can't see me pee! Can't a mama get some privacy up in here? Ever? No? OK. You can come in, but stop trying to throw your Cheerios in the toilet between my legs, OK?

Let another person puke in my hands
Until I had kids, I would have never thought of letting someone else vomit in my hands, let alone encourage it. Now, when a stomach virus hits our house (always with no notice until the chunks start flying) it is often a showdown between hurl landing on the carpet or in my hands. This is only an issue when I can not reach a bowl/trash can/Target bag/cat fast enough, of course. If given the time and forethought, I choose my hands because dumping and cleaning my hands is a hell of a lot faster than getting down on my hands and knees to scrub someone else's vom out of the rug. Shivers.

Pull a booger out of someone else's nose
When there is a bat in the cave, especially one whose wings flap every time the wind blows, something has to be done. Mama has got to go on a search-and-find mission and get her man. Que tweezers and a disgusting game of Operation that no one wants to win. Well…I do. Is it just me or is there something scarily satisfying about pulling a gigantic booger out of your child's nose? The bigger the better, in my book. I feel like I have basically cured cancer when I manage to wrangle a mondo boog out of my baby's nose. Victory is mine! Ew. Wait. Gross. Now I am holding someone else's booger. Maybe not.

Get peed/pooped/puked on
I really never would have volunteered to let someone excrete their bodily fluids on me, had I had the choice. But now that I have released spawn from my loins, I don't. I am basically a whipping boy for any bodily fluids that my children want to hurl my way. Not only that, but whenever they decide to leave any pee/poo/puke anywhere other than the toilet, I have to clean it up. Yeah. That sucks. Why didn't we just get a puppy? At least we could have them potty trained in a few months. Plus, puppies whine a lot less and don't leave their Cheerios all over the house.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Confessional

I once woke up from sleep walking to find myself walking out my front door. At 2 a.m. In my bra and underwear. I live in a building with 42 other lofts in a not-so-great neighborhood. All I really want to know is: where the hell was I going? Did I really need a gallon of milk that badly?


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.


Sins from fellow Boozehounds:

When my husband and I were still dating, one night after a couple of pitchers of sangria and several shots, I got the brilliant idea to break out the stripper heels and Victoria's Secret and do a sexy dance for him.  Except that in my intoxicated state, while putting on the stripper heels, I did a complete face plant in my closet and fractured my ankle.  Somehow I still managed to pull off the sexy dance (although, to anyone less drunk than us, it probably looked like a real sh*t show).  The next morning, my ankle was the size of a softball and I couldn't put any weight on it, so my husband drove me to the ER still reaking of booze and wearing my naughties underneath a hoodie and sweatpants.  We waited for 2 hours.  Twice he had to carry me into the ladies room, stand behind me and hold me by the waist while I bent over the toilet and puked up all that red sangria.  We told everyone that I broke my ankle tripping on a grate on the sidewalk.  I knew that day that he was "the one". When my husband and I were still dating, one night after a couple of pitchers of sangria and several shots, I got the brilliant idea to break out the stripper heels and Victoria's Secret and do a sexy dance for him.  Except that in my intoxicated state, while putting on the stripper heels, I did a complete face plant in my closet and fractured my ankle.  Somehow I still managed to pull off the sexy dance (although, to anyone less drunk than us, it probably looked like a real sh*t show).  The next morning, my ankle was the size of a softball and I couldn't put any weight on it, so my husband drove me to the ER still reaking of booze and wearing my naughties underneath a hoodie and sweatpants.  We waited for 2 hours.  Twice he had to carry me into the ladies room, stand behind me and hold me by the waist while I bent over the toilet and puked up all that red sangria.  We told everyone that I broke my ankle tripping on a grate on the sidewalk.  I knew that day that he was "the one".

ILBAB says: Girl, this is when he knew YOU were "the one". You are a hell of a wife. The most my husband ever gets from me after a couple pitchers of sangria is the prize of pouring me into the car and driving my drunk ass home.


My sister had a baby two weeks ago. She had a C-section and was in the hospital for a few days so the first time my kids got to meet their new cousin was in the hospital. After we had been there for a bit I gave the kids a box of Cheez-Its to occupy them. My son dropped one on the floor and before any of the 6 adults in the room could stop him, he ate it.  So we all made eye contact and pretended to not see anything. (He's fine btw)

ILBAB says: Sorry, this was supposed to be bad? Hospitals are the most sterile environment on earth and my daughter has almost put a dog turd in her mouth. If this is your "bad mommy" moment, I think you need to be elected Mommy of the Year and start giving me pointers.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Colic My Ass

Hi. My name is Julie (Hi, Julie) and my baby was (and sometimes still is) an asshole. This seems to be a confession no mom is willing to make but all struggling mamas want to hear. The Cool Cucumber was an asshole. He would cry for hours at a time for absolutely no reason. I nearly lost my mind holding a baby who did nothing but scream in my ear until it rang and I literally thought it would start bleeding. Yes, I took him to the pediatrician to make sure nothing was really wrong. The diagnosis the Dr gave us was that some baby's are just assholes and they usually grow out of it. The Quiet Contemplator was also an asshole.

I want to punch the person who defined this type of behavior as "colic" straight in the gizzard. Colic is a diagnostic black hole with no hope in sight. It is a diagnosis meant to give you some hope because it has an ending point but really it just robs you of all hope because there is no cure. Colic IS something. We just aren't smart enough to figure out what yet. Be it some sort of intestinal growth that causes discomfort, some sort of food intolerance or just that the baby really enjoys crying, we need to figure it out.

They now have something called The Purple Period of Crying. It basically just tells you that all babies are assholes and that it is not your fault. That is great, but the Purple Period didn't take the screaming infant out of my hands long enough for me to shower, pee and actually eat something, did it? That would have been super helpful.

I think there should be some sort of support for mamas of asshole babies. How about the Asshole Baby Relief System? The System would involve trained nurses armed with swaddles and earplugs that come to your house and hold your screaming baby while you go out and get blackout drunk with a therapist. Or maybe ABA (Asshole Babies Anonymous)? This one just involves a lot of coffee, metal folding chairs and outright weeping. Or Baby Boxing? This frustration-relief group lets mamas corral all of their screaming babies into one room and be supervised by highly-paid nannies while the strung out mothers take a boxing class with their baby's screaming face taped to the punching bag. I know these ideas are awesome, so don't everyone send their checks at once.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Baby Basics Part Three: Returning to Work

If you are returning to work after maternity leave, it will feel like the worst decision you have ever made. Even if you love your job. A lot. This is normal. You are not a bad mommy for going back to work. As long as your kid is in a great place while you are at work, everything will be fine. It will get easier and soon it will just be what is normal.

If you are returning to work, your first visit to a prospective daycare will be overwhelming. It is a lot to take in, thinking you have to leave your perfect baby with an imperfect stranger. You will probably cry. Don't feel bad if you need to leave and reschedule. You won't be the first, or the last. I cried like a fat kid with no cake after visiting our first daycare.

Don't return to work on a Monday if you have the option. Having to think of an entire week away from your baby is too much. If you can, start back on a Wednesday or Thursday. You can make it two or three days before a full weekend with your family again. You cannot make it five.

Before you go back to work, take a day to get yourself back together. Get a mani/pedi, get your haircut, buy a new outfit. You will feel like you are totally a fish out of water when you first re-enter the pond, but at least if you feel like you look good, you will have the confidence to jump back in and start swimming. Try not to show up for your first day in your maternity leave uniform: yoga pants, a puked-on t-shirt from your college days, slippers and a ponytail. People tend to frown on that. Whatever.

The first time you drop your baby off with their new caregiver, schedule a lot of extra time before you need to leave. There will be a lot of crying, on your end. A lot. It will get easier. Give yourself time to be with your baby in their new place and talk with the people that will be taking care of them. This way you will feel like you are not just abandoning them. Also, bring make-up with you so you don't have cry lines in your powder and smeared mascara to start your first day back to work.

Once you get to work, feel free to call and check in on your baby immediately. The people at your daycare will not think you are crazy. It is ok to call seven times on your first day back just to, "See what your baby is doing." If your daycare starts to get annoyed, that is their problem. Most likely you are paying them an arm and a leg to do a job that you would love to be at home doing for free, so it is ok to call and check in.

The most important thing to remember when you return to work is that being a working mommy will not result in your child being a loner weirdo with mommy issues who enjoys killing cats. Same applies to you SAHMs who worry that your kid isn't getting enough interaction with their peers. They will all be fine. We all do the best we can with the cards we are dealt.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The Confessional

I have been known to have gas that can clear a room. In college, I farted in the car and my roommate had to hang her head out of the window while dry-heaving. When I found out I was pregnant the first time, we were on a cabin trip with friends. My gas was so bad that they actually exiled me to the outdoors and wouldn't allowed to eat with them. Is it wrong that I am proud of these events?

The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.


Sins from fellow Boozehounds:

Every year the mortgage company sends us our overage check from the escrow account, and I deposit it in my account without telling my husband.  I don't think he even knows there IS an overage, even though the property taxes continue to fall.

ILBAB says: I have done the same thing. Any year that I don't get a secret check full of free money, I am very disappointed.


My three week old son is not circumcised, which might later set him apart from his buddies, but...his penis is HUGE. And I am secretly thrilled. Call me shallow and whack, but it seems that if you have a big penis, all other flaws can be overlooked. Is that kinda like being blond? Or having big boobs? If so, my kid has it made.

ILBAB says: Big penis on a little peanut. Very funny.


When I was in 8th grade (nearly 25 years ago), I broke both my arms at the same time while babysitting. To this day, my mother and the kid's mother still believe that I broke my arms by tripping over a coffee table. Truth is, the kid and I pushed all the furniture together and were jumping from piece to piece. I landed off balance on the coffee table, and it slipped out from under me and landed on top of me. Bottom line: Don't trust me with children! (I'm a mom of two.)

ILBAB says: Bottom line: you sound like a kick-ass babysitter! What are you doing on Saturday?

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Baby Basics Part Two: Coming Home

When you first bring your baby home from the hospital, they will have their days and nights switched. This sucks. They will sleep all day and be up all night. The reason is, you have been rocking them to sleep all day by walking around. Then at night, when all is calm and mama is sleeping, they have been waking up to party. To reverse this, let them sleep as long as they can through the night without waking, only feeding them when they wake. I promise they won't starve to death, no matter what everyone tells you. During the day, wake them to eat. This will take A LOT of work because when babies are asleep it is almost impossible to wake them, but do it each time you have your feedings scheduled. Even if they are only up for one minute each time, it will start to change their internal clocks.

Babies go though these things called growth spurts. All it basically means is that every once in a while your baby will turn into a food-hungry psycho that wants to do nothing but eat and sleep. Feed them and let them sleep. It doesn't last long, but it makes you feel like a crazy person when you don't know what is happening. They typically happen around these times: 7 days, 10 days, 3 weeks, 6 weeks, 3 months, 6 months and 9 months. They last anywhere from a day to a week. Don't worry, after they are over, they will get back to their regular schedule (or lack thereof).

Never tiptoe around when the baby is sleeping, even in the beginning. The more you do that, the more the baby will get used to sleeping in complete silence and wake to every noise. Be normal when the baby is sleeping: watch TV, play music, vacuum, empty the dishwasher, etc. If you start this way, your baby will sleep through ANYTHING. Our kids could sleep through a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerine plant.

About a week after you give birth, you will have an overwhelming surge of emotions. It isn't happy or sad, exactly, it is just freaking intense. You will cry for about a day or two straight for no reason at all and then be fine. Just know that everyone does this and that it will go away.

If you can stomach it, have your baby sleep in their crib in their room from day one. You will get little sleep and wake up to every peep if they are right by your side. Plus, sleeping on their own develops good sleeping habits. We had a video monitor and turned the sound all the way down. When they are awake enough to actually need you, you will hear them if your room is close enough to theirs.

Remember that the habits you set in the beginning will continue for as long as you let them. Rocking a tiny baby to sleep for every nap is sweet. Rocking a 1-year-old to sleep for every nap is not.

A good thing to know is that most new things you are trying to train your baby to do, from sleeping through the night to going throughout the day without a paci, only take about three days to accomplish. The first day will suck with lots of crying on both of your part, the second day a lot less crying all around, the third day barely any crying and the fourth day everything will just run like clockwork. This is extremely important to know and remember. Sometimes you will be ready to break and go back to bad routines at the first cry on the second day because you are exhausted and feel like a shitty parent. Don't. You can do it. Three days of hell is worth a lifetime of the good habit you are trying to set. Hang in there, mommy!

Even when your baby is sleep trained, they will often start waking in the middle of the night for no reason. Don't worry. This will only last a week or so and go away on its own. It can be caused by teething, a growth spurt, sickness, learning to do something new, etc. Just say, this too shall pass and take a shot of vodka.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Baby Basics Part One: You Can Do It!

This is the first post in a series to help those of you that are expecting for the first time prepare for the shitstorm that is about to hit your life. Enjoy.

First things first: Don't take this whole baby thing so seriously. Calm down. You are not going to break your baby by burping them too hard, they won't need therapy after you yell at them to SHUT UP! after a solid hour of crying for no reason and standing over their crib checking to see if they are breathing every 15 minutes isn't helping anyone. Just relax. You will do a much better job if you just kind of approach things organically and have some self-confidence. Screw that mom that instantly lost the baby weight and is always perfectly dressed and groomed at your Gymboree class. So you were the last one to know about BPA being a bad thing. Who cares that you use the five minute rule when the pacifier falls on the ground, even in public. You are a great mom. Give yourself credit for the things you do get right and shrug off the things that are a little less than perfect. Your baby loves you even when it seems like you can't get anything right.

Second off: As wonderful as 12 weeks off from work with nothing to do but cuddle your new bundle of love sounds, maternity leave can be extremely isolating. Don't get yourself too deep in a hole before you ask for some anti-depressants to go with your bottle of Jack Daniels. Also, if you know any other mamas that have babies around the same age, make mommy dates to vent to each other. Their baby's germs are the same as yours. Tell the other mommy that you are exhausted and that sometimes your baby cries for no reason and you tell them that you want to throw them down a well. Chances are, she has a similar story. No mommy is perfect and if you have a friend that seems to be and makes you feel like shit about yourself, fuck her. She is lying.

Thirdly: Trust in your husband and tell him thank you for all that he does. Yes, you can do this on your own but believe me, sister, you don't want to. Even though you are much better at changing diapers, holding the baby, calming them down, mixing bottles, mixing martinis, etc., you don't want to be doing it all alone. Let go of your criticisms and just be happy that he is willing to change a diaper and tend to a crying baby in the middle of the night. Your husband won't break the baby and harping on him about every little detail will just make all three of you miserable. Even if that diaper goes on backwards, it will still hold pee. Tell your husband you love him, and get some much-needed shut-eye while daddy takes over for a while.

Seriously, a good relationship with your husband is one of the most important things you can have during all of this. Raising a baby is a battle that is more easily won as a team. Take time to remember that you once loved this person enough to want to have a baby with them. Often during the first few months you will look at them and want to punch them in the face for putting the wipes in the holder wrong. Don't.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The Confessional

When I was maybe ten, my BFF and I decided to light her mom's cigarette butts and pretend to smoke them while hanging out of her window so the neighbor kids below would think we were BAMFs. Super awesome stunt until one of the lit cigarettes fell on her mattress and caught it on fire. We just put the fire out and flipped the mattress over, of course.

The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.


Confessions from fellow Boozehounds:

Mommy confession: I have 2 sons. When I was expecting our first one about 3 yrs ago, a friend of mine mistakenly thought I was having a girl and bought me an utterly adorable pink dress with yellow piping. It had a matching hat and socks and was one of the girliest, cutest outfits ever. Not wanting to pass up a good opportunity, I put my 7 week old son in the outfit and walked the mall near our home, praying I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. Tons of strangers complimented on my beautiful daughter, with her darling outfit and large amounts of dark hair. Nobody knows I did this, not even my husband.

ILBAB says: I really, really, really hope there are pictures of this to show your son when he is a teenager and a total know-it-all assface.

Confession 2: I once had a few too many and fell asleep on the couch of the host of a large house party. Sometime in the night, I got sick on that couch. In the morning, I cleaned up the top of the cushions as best I could and went home without mentioning it to anyone. A few days, the host (who I didn’t know very well, friend of a friend) was looking for his keys and dug his hand into the couch cushions. He came up with a cold handful of puke...classy.

ILBAB says: I would never stick my hands in the cushions of my couch. Everyone knows bad things lurk there. If my keys were to fall into the black whole that is the couch cushions, I would write them off as a loss and buy a new car. Shivers.

EMAIL DISCLAIMER This transmission, including any attachments, is for the sole use of the intended recipients and contains information from XXXXXXX that may be privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any disclosure, copying, printing, distribution or use of any of the information contained in or attached to this transmission is strictly prohibited. If you have received this transmission in error, please notify the sender by email or telephone immediately and delete the original transmission.

ILBAB says: this cracked me the fuck up because it was about puking and sent from a work email. Had to include. Ha!
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