Here lies another tale from my last pregnancy. I'm too tired right now to write about what happened last night when I called Husband's hotel room. Until then, I'll entertain you with a post from my facebook page. Stay tuned...
(December 2009)
SO. This morning I had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn; literally oh-my-god-thirty, so that I could drive my ill-behaved son all the way to my sister's before driving another hour to a nursing workshop (the ill behavior is another story; I'm tempted to post the video I took of him in Wal-mart). But I digress...
After not sleeping all night because GI Joe Junior decided he was totally comfortable rockin' out with his head in my diaphragm, his butt on my bladder, and my ribs and other sensitive areas within easy kicking and punching range, I got up, tucked Damien the Omen child into the truck, and headed out of town. He started drinking down what I thought was his usual morning beverage. It wasn't until a few minutes later that I took a big gulp of what I thought would be hot, delicious cinnamon hazelnut coffee with vanilla creamer, and instead got a mouthful of chocolate peppermint milk. Yep. I put his milk in my travel cup and my coffee in his travel cup. Totally awesome.
I get Baby Einstein to my sister's, wired as hell (he'd managed to down easily half the coffee before I could wrench it away from him), and decide as I'm driving past Happy Donald's that a McHashbrown would really hit the spot. So I pull in, drive around to the drive through, when out of fucking nowhere this tiny piece of shit car comes careening through the parking lot AND TOTALLY TRIES TO CUT ME OFF!!!!!!
Now, those of you who have been pregnant before know: once your stomach lets your brain know that it is hungry, you need to eat. Now. Immediately. The welfare of your husband, your other children, and any pedestrians who happen to cross your path depends on it. I decided that since I was in a monster truck, I was going to go ahead and keep going, and if the little shit wanted to tangle with me, I was pretty sure I could run over his POS car without too much trouble. However, at the last minute, he decides to whip over and pull into a parking space. Good for him.
Then he decides to walk RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY TRUCK and flip me off. I smiled and waved. So he just stood there, right in front of the little order-taker box, and wouldn't move. At this point, I'm fucking starving. I would have eaten him if it hadn't looked like he bathed maybe once every other month and still hadn't gotten around to that lice treatment he desperately needed. So I laid on the horn. AND HE FUCKING MOONED ME. Then turned around, pants down, and gave me the "Now, what, Bitch?" gesture. At that point, my vision tunneled. I decided that I would tell the police I meant to step on the brake and accidentally hit the gas instead. And I would get away with it, since my dad's an attorney.
So I floored it.
At the last second he must've realized I wasn't stopping, so he turned really fast and tried to run...but since he was standing there with his pants around his knees, he fell over the curb, bare ass in the air, right as I roared past. So I slammed on the brakes and grabbed my cell phone, with every intention of taking a picture of his hairy arse and posting it on facebook for all to see. He managed to scramble behind a bush, though, and like I said, I was hungry, so I just ordered my Mchashbrown and went on my way.
The moral? Never stand between a pregnant woman and her breakfast.
(December 2009)
SO. This morning I had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn; literally oh-my-god-thirty, so that I could drive my ill-behaved son all the way to my sister's before driving another hour to a nursing workshop (the ill behavior is another story; I'm tempted to post the video I took of him in Wal-mart). But I digress...
After not sleeping all night because GI Joe Junior decided he was totally comfortable rockin' out with his head in my diaphragm, his butt on my bladder, and my ribs and other sensitive areas within easy kicking and punching range, I got up, tucked Damien the Omen child into the truck, and headed out of town. He started drinking down what I thought was his usual morning beverage. It wasn't until a few minutes later that I took a big gulp of what I thought would be hot, delicious cinnamon hazelnut coffee with vanilla creamer, and instead got a mouthful of chocolate peppermint milk. Yep. I put his milk in my travel cup and my coffee in his travel cup. Totally awesome.
I get Baby Einstein to my sister's, wired as hell (he'd managed to down easily half the coffee before I could wrench it away from him), and decide as I'm driving past Happy Donald's that a McHashbrown would really hit the spot. So I pull in, drive around to the drive through, when out of fucking nowhere this tiny piece of shit car comes careening through the parking lot AND TOTALLY TRIES TO CUT ME OFF!!!!!!
Now, those of you who have been pregnant before know: once your stomach lets your brain know that it is hungry, you need to eat. Now. Immediately. The welfare of your husband, your other children, and any pedestrians who happen to cross your path depends on it. I decided that since I was in a monster truck, I was going to go ahead and keep going, and if the little shit wanted to tangle with me, I was pretty sure I could run over his POS car without too much trouble. However, at the last minute, he decides to whip over and pull into a parking space. Good for him.
Then he decides to walk RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY TRUCK and flip me off. I smiled and waved. So he just stood there, right in front of the little order-taker box, and wouldn't move. At this point, I'm fucking starving. I would have eaten him if it hadn't looked like he bathed maybe once every other month and still hadn't gotten around to that lice treatment he desperately needed. So I laid on the horn. AND HE FUCKING MOONED ME. Then turned around, pants down, and gave me the "Now, what, Bitch?" gesture. At that point, my vision tunneled. I decided that I would tell the police I meant to step on the brake and accidentally hit the gas instead. And I would get away with it, since my dad's an attorney.
So I floored it.
At the last second he must've realized I wasn't stopping, so he turned really fast and tried to run...but since he was standing there with his pants around his knees, he fell over the curb, bare ass in the air, right as I roared past. So I slammed on the brakes and grabbed my cell phone, with every intention of taking a picture of his hairy arse and posting it on facebook for all to see. He managed to scramble behind a bush, though, and like I said, I was hungry, so I just ordered my Mchashbrown and went on my way.
The moral? Never stand between a pregnant woman and her breakfast.
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