o

I have neglected to mention that, a couple of weeks back, I got my first ultrasound. It was just shy of 6 weeks and the little nugget had a heart beat. I must admit: I got choked up. Some of it was probably because I was still pissed off at my ex for not being there, and some of it was probably because someone had a stick up my poontang, but mostly it was because the whole thing is pretty cool.

At first I was kind of bummed out that there were not two, because I had picked out two names and all. Then I figured I could just use both, like a middle name situation. “Guido Ace” or, if it’s a girl, “Ace Guido.”

This is how big the little pulse was on the screen: o

The nice lady with the stick up my twat asked if I would like a photo. When she printed it out, next to the o was the word "HELLO." Just because you have a magic baby wand doesn’t mean you get to name someone else’s kid. I almost gave her a piece of my mind, but I decided to save my energy for cooking the baby.

I wanted to post the little picture, but then I would have to scan it in at work, I’d probably forget it on the scanner, someone would find it, and I would be fired for trying to have a personal life during my free time.

Industrial Ceiling Panel

I decided to name my child after the first thing I saw when getting knocked up. So she will be called “Industrial Ceiling Panel.”

If I was sitting a few inches to the left, she might have been called “Sky” (short for “Lighting Panel Fake Sky with Clouds”). A few inches to the right, and she could have been little “Smoke Detector.”

While waiting to be impregnated, I have gotten nervous and I feel a crap coming on. This is particularly bad, because, no matter what they tell you about how you can go about your normal day, you believe none of it. After they put $465 worth of fancy-pants spludge inside of you, what idiot is gonna go sit on the crapper and poop it out? No way!

I’m on my back. 50 million Super Sperm have just been released into my uterus, adding to the 50 million swimmers from yesterday. Now we wait to see if my eggs are any good.

I never thought I would care about such a thing. Good eggs. At the age of three, I became convinced that marriage was out for me, since based on the empirical evidence that I had gathered, it directly correlated with having to clean toilets. Then I moved to California and found out that most people don’t ever clean their own toilets, and it opened up a world of possibility for me. From Marriage-O-Phobic to MILF, in just 37 short years.