M

Oh M. Stop causing your momma first time mommy stress. Stay on the boob.

HO HO HO

Happy holidays from the Good Joo household to all

BABY!

Baby French Bitch is here. Born at 1:50pm. 6lbs 15oz. Congrats to Bad Joo and her family.

Oh Deer

GJ found something similar to this on Etsy and decided that there was no way in hell she was going to pay $375 for a deer made out of resin when she could just make it out of shit. Plus, GJ has no idea what resin is or how to do anything with it. GJ's husband is notorious for his inability to put out the recycling bins. They sit in the garage of GJ for months at a time until there is no more room to park cars. Last week at around 8pm GJ's hubby opened the garage door alarmed at the burglary type noises coming from within. He was concerned to find his charming (as always) wife digging through the recycling bin, talking to herself, and morphing a strange animal type head out of garbage. And here is the result. And you know it's hanging in GJ's living room. And you know you want one (unless you are SL.)

Going Gonny Rogue

It has been established in the past that Gonny, formally known as Gonna is a pest. Once upon a time she was a fat, happy, in door cat. Then GJ adopted her and all hell broke lose. Every rodent in Indiana has had a play date with Gonny and they have all ended poorly. Now by poorly you might think that GJ means "with death." Of course this is the case, but what "poorly" does not include is the 30 minute post mortem regurgitation of the rodent. Not enough time for the creature to have been digested, but just enough time for it to have been stretched into a long tube and displayed on GJ's front porch with A LOT of blood. Gonny's mad hunting skills are of grand delight to a certain 4 year old. "How long is it? How long is it?"

Death to Smoochy

Ahhhh today. Today was the first day of GJ's workout with her personal trainer. Now GJ has been a "worker outer" for many years and is no pussy when it comes to making herself sweat. Really. GJ works out hard and if it wasn't for that damn Mountain Dew and eating random shit in the middle of the night she would probably weigh 34 lbs like all of her friends. In an effort to step it up even another notch, GJ decided to go with E who is one of her fitness instructors at the Y. E runs a gym out of her home called the E Gym, which is a very, very, very crafty name. Upon arrival GJ was weighed, measured and then brought down into what we will now refer to as the "DEPTHS OF HELL". And what followed was basically E's boot camp class from the Y, but oh...say...5000000000000 times worse. OMG. Death. GJ died. Approximately 45 minutes into this little workout GJ began to see black spots. Yes. Like "hi I'm going to pass out."

GJ: I think I'm going to throw up
E: No you aren't
GJ: Yes I am
E: No you are not
GJ: Yes
E: No
GJ: Where can I throw up? Wait, wait...my head might explode. I think my heart rate is 450.
E: I'll get you some juice
GJ: No. I don't want juice
E: I'll get you some
GJ: NO. I need to throw up (said in a very whiny voice)
E: Then throw up in the garbage (clearly not believing GJ)
GJ: I want to throw up in the toilet
E: No
GJ: Then I will throw up on your face
E: No. You are not going to throw up
GJ: Throwing up like a drunken frat boy in garbage can
E: I can't believe you threw up
GJ: Still throwing up AND shitting her pants
E: You didn't look like you were struggling
GJ: Still throwing up and thinking...the 70lbs of sweat on your floor and in my clothes and the fact that my face is the color of a beet did not indicate to you that I might be struggling????? How about the comment "I CANNOT DO ONE MORE LUNGE. I CANNOT. I WILL DIE. I'M DEAD..."

Take a Back Seat Bitch

That's what the incision said to MDH's bladder today. CANCER FREE CANCER FREE CANCER FREE! You know how MDH likes to get cancer when one of the Joos is pregnant. Not this time mothers. WHAT WHAT. BJ remains preggers, GJ remains home with sick kids and MDH remains cancer free. After all...having cancer 3 times was going to be a little over board.

Five Weeks

Five weeks until C gets the fuck outta Dodge, and DO NOT COMMENT ON THIS POST if it is to inform this joo of any of the following fun facts:

(1) It only gets worse once they're out; or
(2) You should plan on being late.

This Joo does not care to learn either of those fun facts; and, unless you experienced DAILY debilitating migraines during your pregnancy; and your sister spent the last trimester spraying spray glue up your nose; AND your mother was addicted to the cancer; YOU DO NOT KNOW KNOW THIS JOO'S PAIN.

Other than that, this Joo is glowing.

Word

Clearly Guest Krunk's ho thinks GJ has tons of time throughout the day to blog (see comment section below). She seems to not have gotten the memo about A yelling "I'm psychotic" at preschool last week and then starting this strange love affair with Kayden or is it Cayden or is it Caeden or is it...right you get the point. GJ is busy. 'Tis the season. This is the time when GJ's craftiness gets a hair out of control. Lots of glitter being thrown around, the house smelling like spray glue, the kids passing out from the glue high, lots of painting, sewing of the Guest Krunk ho's stockings...really it's endless. So much to do. So little money to accomplish GJ's crafting dreams (Good Jew this is where you come in). B is about to walk. BJ is about to give birth (the horror) and MDH's bladder thinks it might want to have "the cancer." It's so trying to outdo the incision. Please bladder. You CANNOT even compete. GJ's hubby is supposedly done running for the "season," although GJ suspects this means "week." That's what GJ has got for you. That's it.

A Good Run

GJ has recently had a very good run with random books picked up from the 'brary. The top 3 that you must go get today are:

1. The Piano Teacher - Janice Y.K. Lee (in large print)
2. The Littler Giant of Aberdeen County - Tiffany Baker
3. A Reliable Wife - Robert Goolrick

Also...A and her mom are TOTALLY into the SkippyJon Jones books by Judy Schachner. A little side memo. It is just stoopid to have a library card if you are going to acquire $35 late fees on a regular basis. Just go to the damn bookstore and buy the book in hardcover. And make sure it is a book about running that you have already read 15 times. GJ LOVES YOU EGL!

Fire Up

Yesterday while hanging out on the bathroom floor feeling nauseous, A brought in a Fed Ex envelope addressed to GJ's hubby. Of course GJ opened it because that is how we roll in this house. Strangely GJ's hubby never opens her mail. Huh. Anyway...inside in all of their glory were two Phish tickets. November 18th at Cobo in the D. What? Once again GJ did not get the memo that there was a concert coming up. It took a lot of restraint to not arrive at the hubby's office in flannel pajamas and a sideways pony tail with two kids who looked like white trash and rip him a new asshole, but GJ was able to keep it together. She merely picked up the phone and left him a message that announced she felt like shit and by the way THOSE FUCKING CONCERT TICKETS HAD BETTER NOT BE YOURS. Well guess what? No...keep guessing. They are the hubby's concert tickets. He TOTALLY didn't know he would get them. IT WAS A LOTTERY. He totally forgot about them. He went into the lottery like a MONTH ago. It was sooooooooo long ago that he forgot. After GJ's laser beam eyes had turned him into a pile of mush he stated he was sorry. The weekend of C's shower is here and B is sick and GJ is sick and BJ is sick and GJ thinks it's going to be super fun.

You know what?

Your wife would probably want to do you more often if under your computer didn't look like this too. For shiz.

Fun Festive Halloween

Poor B had to be dressed up like a bee and couldn't even crawl around in the suit. Too bad. Every year of B's life she will be a bee and to make it even more fun and creative she will wear the same bee suit her whole life. Imagine how fun the pictures will be. A was a zebra. Now GJ knows that is shocking, but please pick your jaw up off the ground. B also enjoys coloring an enormous, ridiculous pumpkin that her grandpa grew for her (and that is a dick face).

When I'm Sixty-Four

days from my doo date.

At T-64 days and counting, Bad Joo is not handy mending a fuse, tending the garden, digging weeds, sleeping through the night, managing not to cry at the drop of a hat, or explode at the tadpole (whose visit ends to today). Bad Joo can no longer see her feet, although she should be able to, since they're so motherfucking big. BJ cannot go 24 hours without a migraine. BJ cannot slouch and breathe at the same time. BJ cannot be nice. In general, BJ cannot impress upon the Internettes enough how very, very poorly she is performing in this pregnancy.

But most importantly, Bad Joo cannot go ten seconds without getting the ABSOLUTE CRAP kicked out of her by C. And when this Joo says, "ABSOLUTE CRAP", she means, "Passersby stop her on the street and say with frightful looks of horror on their faces, 'FOR THE LOVE OF COD AND ALL THAT IS HOLY, WOMAN, WHAT THE FUCE IS THAT ENORMOUS VIBRATING TUMOR PROTRUDING FROM YOUR RIBCAGE, AND WAS THAT YOUR LIVER THAT JUST SQUIRTED OUT OF YOUR SIDE?' before running away screaming."

When C is not busy pushing BJ's internal organs out of her pores, he enjoys hiccuping, doing the hustle, the Macarena, and acting like a silent, sweet baby anytime anyone touches her belly. Ah, what a joy this child will be. Even his father has taken to calling him "le petit con", which is French for, "SOMEBODY GET THIS FUCKER OUTTA HER AND GIVE ME BACK MY WIFE" or "the little asshole." This Joo forgets which.

Etiquette

The Joos were raised by MDH to adhere to the rules of etiquette in the interest of living in and fostering a polite society. For this reason, it came as no surprise, no surprise at all to Bad Joo that she received a gracious thank you card from Good Joo today, pictured above.

GJ is in hiding

GJ's husband noted this morning pretty much on his way out the door that he was going to be in court this morning. What? No. You are a tax attorney. You do NOT go to court. You should NOT speak in public. EVER. While accessorizing himself, which involves packing the entire household into 2-3 bags that he drags to work everyday, with 19 phones, and 15 ipods (only 1 works, but he just can't let the others go) he mentioned this court thing to GJ. GJ spit out her coffee. Really he is just going to sit there and look important, play on his tap tap, and make some notes. BUT. BUT. What he told GJ he wanted to do was have the opportunity to stand up and yell "THAT'S PREPOSTEROUS". Oh god. It would involve a lot of hand motions as well and perhaps a small podium. It may also involve him wearing running shoes because you never know when you might need to run. And when the judge yells at him to sit down and shut the hell up, he will rip open his suit and there will be all his marathon medals. The lights will all shine upon him and red chest hair will blind everyone and and and...GJ is hiding.

No double chins

This is what GJ's email said to her fab photog yesterday. No double chins and for the love of our sweet lord savior, no fat rolls. There are a lot of rules when photographing the GJ household. That's probably why Jenna decided to up her prices. After dealing with GJ the first time, she was all like, "Hell no, mother effer. Oh, hell no." Actually she wasn't. She doesn't swear, and she loves Jesus, which puts her right up there on the best people in the world list with GJ's neighbor Randi. Why can't GJ love Jesus? It would totally make her a better person. Or it might make her vote Republican and bomb some sad, 3rd world country. Whatever.

Baby zebra got dropped off at school and B and GJ bombed around for the morning not wanting to get ready too early. The cluster fuck started around 2:30 when GJ had to actually shower, and dry her hair, and put on make up and get her children deloused. Then throw everyone in the car right around dinner time for B and then pick up daddy and then drive to a barn in the country. By the time the GJ household got there the girls were eating fries, GJ was cursing the girls, daddy, fries, the world, her fat rolls, Glenn Beck and other things. Pictures went fairly well. Jenna was of course accommodating to GJ's need to see the pics on the camera before she photoshopped all GJ's insecurities out of them. The girls did well. B was a little dicky, but for being hungry she did well. GJ had to doing some regulating of the baby zebra. It was pretty windy out and at one point GJ looked over and saw the baby zebra sniffing the wind. And then GJ saw her flap her mane around and had to immediately intervene by yelling "NO BABY ZEBRA". This outburst was met with a frown, but A was able to regain her composure. At the end GJ did allow her to pose it out all zebra style. Jenna was completely baffled by the zebra until GJ explained that it's like when a little boy thinks he is spider man. Of course not a dying spider man, but that is beside the point. Pics to follow.

An Open Letter to C

Dear C,

As you fart around in my womb and kick my innards all to pieces, take a moment to reflect upon your upcoming birth. Yes, it is true that the naysayers out there pretend that babies should be born 40 weeks after the date of a mother's last menstrual period, but the naysayers are haters. Fat, lazy, slow, racist, dirty, stinky haters. You're better than they are. And faster.

Be born at 37 weeks.

Show your friends up. Let the world know who's boss. Come out in advance. Set trends. I know you can do it.

Actually, I wouldn't complain if you were out a few days ahead of 37 weeks.

It's been really great having you grow inside me. I've enjoyed the nausea, fatigue, unstoppable migraines, and other joys of pregnancy more than you'll ever know. And that thing you do with both feet, my bladder, and a copy of the Miranda rights in Spanish? Magical. However, my most fervent desire for you is that you not blindly follow the pack.

Say, 36 weeks.

This being said, I want you to be first and foremost a fat, healthy newborn, so don't rush out. Don't take this letter to mean that I want you to sacrifice your own health for my selfish comfort. I love you, and I can't wait to meet you.

I'm not doing anything December 2, if that works for you. Otherwise, the week before is pretty open. Just let me know.

Love,

Bad Momma Joo

Good Joo wishes she had...

a dick to rub these flowers on. Actually GJ is getting sick of BJ loving the dick comment even more than GJ's OB and staff. It's all fun and games to dick around with someone on narcotics. These flowers, however, are spectacular. There is nothing better then cabbage or kale or whatever the hell that purple thing is. Put it in GJ's butt. GJ also received some darling flowers from her in-laws and her neighbor, the wonderful, god fearing, Miss Randi. Unlike BJ's flowers, Miss Randi's included a card that said she would be praying for GJ's speedy recovery. Bad Joo. Bad. The incision has sent nothing. Shocking. Such an attention hog. GJ's husband is back to work. You would have thought he was trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon by how fast he booked it out of the house this a.m. "I'M SO BUSY. I AM THE ONLY TAX ATTORNEY IN THE WORLD. THIS CORPORATION WILL FILE FOR BANKRUPTCY IF I DON'T GO TO WORK TODAY. THERE IS AN EMERGENCY. OMG. I HAVE TO FLY ON THE CORPORATE JET TO TELL PEOPLE THAT THE IRS WOULD NOT LIKE WHAT THEY ARE DOING. I AM SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IMPORTANT. MAYBE IF I RUN TO WORK I WILL GET THERE FASTER THAN DRIVING. I AM SO FAST". Whatever. The GJ hubby did have a very impressive showing at the Chicago Marathon with a finishing time of 3:43. In case you would like more info on that just friend him on facebook.

Joo's Dick

As previously mentioned, Good Joo went under the knife to pull a trilobite off her ovary on Monday, and the Joos are happy to report that the procedure went well. In fact, both ovaries were saved, and Good Joo is happily recovering in the House of Joo. Only...

Only, the surgeon who performed the surgery cryptically asked the recovery staff to tell Good Joo and her dear husband that she, "removed Good Joo's penis." And, at the time of this writing, repeated calls to the surgeon's office for further explanation have been met only with hysterical cackling from her staff. While the Joos are fairly certain that Good Joo is not a hermaphrodite, until such time as this point has been clarified by a licensed medical professional, the Joos are spending their time rewriting Mickey Avalon's My Dick song to suit the occasion. Internettes are encouraged to assist.

My dick - not on my ovary. Joo's dick - Madame Bovary.

My dick - well behaved. Joo's dick - not my fave.

My dick - non-existent. Joo's dick - quite persistent.

My dick - microscopic. Joo's dick - laparoscopic.

My dick - super awesome cool. Joo's dick - gone.

UGH

This weekend GJ hubby is running his third marathon in Chicago. GJ has mixed feelings about this. The training that must go into a marathon is absurd. It is stupid, annoying, and unacceptable to those who are not also training (GJ, A, and B). Sundays are the worst.

GJH: Sugar what is a good time for my run today?

GJ: How far is it?

GJH: 700 miles.

GJ: No time is good. Just leave. Just go. Have fun. I'll be here taking care of our sick children and dog who got sprayed by a skunk. I will also mop the floors while you are gone, pay all the bills, go grocery shopping, shower, shower our kids, shower the dog, paint the house, mow the lawn, take out the garbage, post a blog, play on facebook, email, and read 3 books. See you later when you return with a yeast infection on your waist and clothes that I cannot possibly get the smell out of. Oh but before you go make sure you go and buy more new running shoes. And make sure that they are the exact same as all the other pairs that you own and make sure to number them with a sharpie. And make sure to leave all 500 pairs in the back hallway. Do NOT put them in the closet. When you get home also make sure to tell me how tired you are. And make sure to wear gay sunglasses on the run (and by gay GJ does not mean homosexual).

GJH: Sounds good.

UGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. So anyway...off GJ and hubby and hubby's bro trot. Off to Chicago for like 24 hours. Why? Well because GJ has the surgery on Monday morning at 5am. How fun. And GJ may or may not still have ovaries after the surgery, but God GJ hopes that her hubby has a good run. GJ is very proud of her hubby for being a runner even though it makes her insane. Fin.

Mothersucker

It should come as no surprise to faithful Internettes out there that Bad Joo is a bad pregnant lady. So bad, in fact, that The Incision is even calling her a whiner. Bad Joo is therefore attempting to suck it up as she enters her third trimester, but given C's near constant ninjitsu Thundercat practice maneuvers and the ever-present migraines, Bad Joo is having a rough go of it. To soothe her, Bad Joo is rewriting all those "pregnancy week by week" (to be sung in a high pitched, my-little-pony-esque voice) articles to better fit her condition.

Week 26
Your baby's sweat glands are now functioning, which means that the little fuceur should get out and get a job. He can hear you and those around you, so take a few moments every day to curse him and the day you conceived him, whilst you badger your dirty foreigner to do your bidding. This is a good way to bond with baby. You may even be able to feel the baby kick the shit out of your bladder at the sudden noise of a pot hitting your partner's head! Your baby is now about 14 inches and weighs a around two pounds.

As your baby continues to grow you will find yourself with aches and pains from the pressure. These include back pain, pelvic pain, pain in your sides or ribs, pain in the ass, pain in the boobs, pain in the head, neck, shoulders, spleen, and prehensile tail. (Wait, you don't have one of those? Slackass. All good mothers grow prehensile tails to carry their young). The best thing to do when this happens is to change your position or move around for a little bit. Often, your movement is enough to cause baby to move and therefore release the pressure and relieve the pain. If that doesn't work, whine to your mom. Cry when she reassures you that she never experienced any such misery in any of her pregnancies.

Your fundal height (or distance from the swollen reaches of your formerly dainty lady parts to the upper stretches of your baby sack) has reached approximately 2 to 2 1/2 inches above your navel, which is now so disgusting, it burned the dirty foreigner's retinas last time he looked at it. In other words, you are a fat, miserable pig, and it's only going to get worse. Enjoy the miracle of life!

GJ already knows that a lot of you are feeling sorry for her for the following reasons:

-Her husband has red hair and we all know what that means

-The floors in her house look like this (see above)

-Her gay designer told her the floors looked pink

-Her gay designer told her to NOT pass GO until she replaces all the floors in her house with wide plank, dark, hardwood (GJ agrees)

-It will be 2090 before GJ can do the above

-Her child is a baby zebra who strangely holds its front hooves like a dead squirrel

8

Yesterday GJ and hubby celebrated their 8th anniversary. And by celebrate GJ means that we both forgot about it until MDH called to wish GJ a happy anniversary. Why? Oh you know...the sick, coughing, hacking, snotting, non sleeping children in our house. When GJ's kids are sick everything else goes on the back burner. So here is the GJ with hubby on their wedding day. GJ had a double chin even then in all her thinness. So GJ spent the day laying on the living room floor and moaning (GJ is also sick) and calling hubby to make him come home. Now hubby is sick, A is back at school, and B is going to the doctor. GJ is just drinking Mountain Dew. Eight years GJ has been married to this red headed man. Wow. Three different cities and two different states. Crazy. Who knew? And that red headed man gets better every year. Better hubby, better dad (if possible), better son, better brother...just goodness.

Dick

B is the new dick. It's like a switch was flicked on her birthday and all the sudden it's the new B...the new dick. And GJ can call her child a dick because in the GJ house the bigger the dick, the better. Does a comma go there? Anyhoo...she is taking it to baby zebra like nobody's business. Pulling hair, screaming, throwing, chasing, following, annoying, etc. And GJ's favorite moment...drum roll...was when B knocked A down and proceeded to river dance on her face. It was awesome. Now if only B would dress up like a lion and pretend to eat the baby zebra. This would please A and give B an outlet for her new dickness. Now GJ doesn't favor B, but A has been taunting her from day 1. Paybacks suck.

The House of Good Joo

The House of Good Joo has been extremely busy as of late. GJ has been obsessing over a few things lately like what color mums to buy for the front porch and why there is no cute cabinet hardware to fit my kitchen cabinets. This last obsession is ruining GJ's life, but she is trying to carry on for her darling children. The dying baby zebra got an actual zebra body suit from her grandma and has worn it daily while failing to thrive at the dried up waterhole. B turned 1 on Thursday and is enjoying her new age. Apparently turning 1 means that anytime you take a nap you have to take 3 dumps in the process of going to sleep. GJ has also been quite busy yelling at the T.V. whenever someone mentions the words Republicans and health care reform together. Really. GJ can barely take it anymore. That's about it. What do you want from GJ? She lives in the Fart for crying out loud.

Taint

Please do not give Bad Joo (or any Joo, for that matter) advice about her taint. For some reason, this apparent pregnancy has given license to persons far and wide to offer up advice to the Joo. Advice she has not solicited. Advice she does not want.

Today, for example, a foreign associate with whom Bad Joo has heretofore enjoyed a nice phone and e-mail working relationship insisted upon REPEATEDLY ordering her to oil her taint. And to avoid an episiotomy. The conversation went a little something like this:

BJ: Thanks again. It's a pleasure working with you on work-related, non-crotch or perineum related matters.

FA: OIL YOUR TAINT!

BJ: I beg your ever-loving pardon?

FA: I said, "oil your taint." If you don't, you'll be sorry. And don't get an episiotomy. You have to oil your taint to avoid it. And don't count on an epidural either.

BJ: Um, okay. Thanks.

FA: Yup, gotta oil your taint.

BJ: Thanks.

FA: Oil your taint.

BJ: Well, you're a busy gal, I'm a busy gal. I should let you go.

FA: Oil your taint.

BJ: Buh bye now.

FA: (liltingly) Oil your taint.

BJ: Um, I've gotta go.

FA: Oh, me too. I have yoga.

BJ: Oh, well have fun!

FA: Oil your taint!

This woman has never had children but knows a cousin's buddy's friend who just gave birth and had to have an episiotomy. Failure to oil the taint. A tragic tale.

A TRAGIC TALE TO WHICH BAD JOO WOULD PREFER SHE NOT BE PRIVY.

So, unless you are a medical doctor whom Bad Joo is paying to offer advice, please do not offer her advice about her taint. Other areas in which Bad Joo is not currently accepting advice from laypersons include but are not limited to:

'roids
acne
headaches and migraines
the size of her motherfucking belly
the pros and cons of pain relief during labor
baby names
and the GNP.

Thank you. And God Bless America.

Free Stuff

Okay, internettes. These Joos know that everyone loves free shit, especially free, awesome shit, so check out Andy and Jenna's blog for the free-est, awesomist shit around.
http://andyandjenna.com/blog/?p=59 . And take special note of the adorable ass photos in the ad.

THAT IS ALL.

Alright, alright

in posting a comment on the Baby Zebra, Bad Joo indicated that she had spent most of her childhood and adolescence pretending to be a horse. This was false. Bad Joo cantered and whinnied well into the first trimester of her godawfulpregnancywhydididothis. Bad Joo did not want to be called onto the carpet by Good Joo.

I UNDERSTAND YOU, A.

That is all.

Baby Zebra

Baby zebra, otherwise known as A is driving Good Joo crazy. A has been a baby zebra for a few months now and GJ is just not digging it anymore. In fact, GJ had to up her anti psychotics by a significant dose just to get by. Oh aren't baby zebras cute? No. No. No. Baby zebras are total dicks. They talk back. They stick out their tongues. They only make this horrible, high pitched, GOD awful noise. They spend a good portion (90-100%) of their day pretending that they are dying because the water hole has dried up. GJ shits you not. It involves a lot of laying around on the ground with a tongue hanging out and panting. It's so annoying and disturbing. GJ can only get A to respond if she calls her "baby zebra". Recently baby zebra was dying at the dried up water hole when she decided that maybe if she fished in the hole she would feel better. Because zebras eat fish? Because there are fish in the dried up hole? When GJ pondered these things aloud, A only looked disgusted and continued on fishing with her tail. Don't question baby zebra's authority on baby zebra type things. So this is how we are spending our days. B is teething, which puts her close to driving GJ as nuts as baby zebra. Oh and the baby zebra's name is...wait for it...wait for it...Jules A Marty baby zebra.

It is BJ's fault

Other than the fact that C has a penis (confirmed via ultrasound yesterday), everything is BJ's fault.

BJ did take off for la la france-in-your-pants for an extended stay, leaving GJ and co. without much to do.

BJ did also fail to remember to bring her camera back from Surrenderland, thereby finding herself without any photos to post on this here blog,

which would've been okay, except that BJ also somehow entrusted the ultrasound photo disc to THE DIRTY FOREIGNER, who may or may not have burned some counterfeit war game on it, and there are therefore no photos of the penis-ridden fetus hereon.

So, Bad Joo has jack shit. And she can't tile. Nor can she sew. Not even w/ curse words and twenty hours of pipsqueakless house. Good Joo, you are the epitome of woman. Hear you motherfecking roar. Post some more photos of that adorable fambly of yours.

It's Not Good Joo's Fault

You know if happens every few months. Bad Joo trots off to la la Francie in your Pancie and Good Joo is stuck with nothing to talk about. In Good Joo's forced Bad Joo interlude she managed to tile her back splash with new BFF and make B a new skirt. The tiling was strangely way easier than the skirt, which was entitled "Girly Skirt" on the pattern. This is bullshit. The name of the pattern should have been "Take a Xanax and a few anti-psychotics and then sew for 12 hours even though I'm claiming it will take 1 hour". GJ's hubby just sat with the girls for several hours looking frightened, and concerned for his darling wife's sanity.

It took her how long to make this piece of shit?

Anywho...the skirt finally got finished and from a distance is pretty hot. Upon closer inspection a reader might note that at one point GJ sewed the hem to the waistband in the smallest stitch possible. This to the non sewers means it was a complete and total bitch to get out. Other things GJ has been doing are retaining 3 vases from IKEA that she was supposed to buy and give to Guest Krunk's ho. Alas...they are too cute and GJ is keeping them. Oh and also...A had her first day of school today.

Burning Down the House

Ahhh...once again GJ received a credit card bill with $550 worth of Dave Matthews Band tickets on it. This is a yearly purchase for GJ's hubby, which ALWAYS results in GJ freaking out, spazzing out, swearing, threatening divorce, etc. GJ's hubby either doesn't care about losing his precious, darling, irreplaceable wife or he just loves DMB so much that he can't help himself. GJ is choosing to believe the latter based on the amount of DMB on our computer. Really? Really? Do you really need 14 different versions of "Don't Drink the Water"...all from different concerts? Of course you do. Silly GJ. Anyway...every year there is always this big ass drama about who is going to the concerts (all three in one week and none of them in the Fart). Now keep in mind that GJ hubby NEVER informs GJ of the upcoming concerts until the week of. Then GJ is all like WHAT WHAT WHAT WHO IS GOING TO WATCH THE KIDS I DON'T WANT TO GO I HATE A CONCERT I HATE YOU FOR SPENDING SO MUCH MONEY ON DMB (takes a breath) GIVE THEM ALL TO GOOD JEW I DON'T CARE I CAN'T TAKE IT WE ARE GETTING DIVORCED. For the past two years the hubby has ended up with A as one of his concert partners. This pleases them both greatly and has saved our marriage for two of the nights. GJ, however, was stuck going to the concert on Saturday night. After much flailing around and claiming the kids were sick or that she was sick, GJ just gave up and went. And...surprisingly...it was fun. Mostly because of the two chicks sitting in front of us, but also because GJ hubby had such a good time (and let GJ run into Anthropologie on the way down). The arrival home at 2am was not fun, but sleeping in until 11am was.

And also...

For all of you who have known about the "Dick" song for years and decades and centuries GJ does not care. Remember how excited you were when you first heard it? Now let GJ be. That means you Good Jew...and Michael Dana Mabee. Always thinking you're number one...both of you.

Some Updates

First of all Good Joo would like to announce that she hates C's crib. It is ugly. It is some sort of mission style, ugly ass crib. Before you get upset, Good Joo has already informed Bad Joo that she hates it. Bad Joo is choosing to ignore GJ's opinion. She promptly announced that she knows someone who knows someone who can make her that crib. Good Joo threw herself down the stairs. No one can be a good parent with that crib in their house. That crib wouldn't even make a good bed for Gonna, which brings Good Joo to her next update...

NO ONE knows how hard it was for Good Joo to not punt Gonna into the pool during her leisurely drink. Good Joo was writhing on the deck. Convulsing. Good Joo almost had to call Animal Cops Fart Wayne on herself. Oh Gonna...

Good Joo has also been working on some sewing projects. Gearing up for the birth of the dirty, foreigner baby who GJ will only love if he is wearing cute clothes. And by cute clothes GJ means trousers trimmed in ball fringe. Everything is better with a ball fringe on it...

Granted B cannot sit and or move in this skirt, it is still pretty damn cute. Good Joo made it today in 15 minutes from a piece of scrap material. What did GJ originally use that cute fabric for? Well...a skirt for A. Good Joo uses the term "skirt" loosely. It is more like a giant rectangle that goes all the way to the floor. Very Pentecostal. Very not hot. There is no pic of that skirt.

What A Wicked Game C Plays

to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do. To let me dream of you ohhhhiiiiiiiiiiiii don't wanna fall in love.

Bad Joo, who has heretofore sworn to buy used everything this baby should require (apart from breast milk), is now lusting over a crib. Even Blogger knows it's wrong, for Blogger is not allowing BJ to import a photo of the sexy mofo of a crib. Interested Internettes may view it here: http://www.pacificrimwoodworking.com/crib.aspx . It's the radius crib. le sigh.

Bad Joo knows that C will spend exactly five minutes of his or her life in the crib, and that said crib will really serve as a glorified cat bed from which BJ will constantly be evicting dirty pussies, but this does not change BJ's desire. BJ knows that the crib is a monumental waste of le cash, but this does not change BJ's desire.

BJ wants the Radius. BJ loves the Radius and everything about it. BJ especially loves its Jap inspired cap. BJ wants to sleep in the Radius and do dirty things to it. BJ would not even mind birthing a penis, if it meant she could have the Radius. again with le sigh.

Please, seasoned mothers out there, share your wisdom about why and how BJ should forget about le crib trop sexy. Or send cold, hard cash to:

Bad Joo
c/o The Dirty Foreigner
555 Midwestern Street
Midwest, MW 91919

Thank youse.

George

This is a picture of George W. It is sitting on GJ's table. Why? It was a hostess gift from last night's dinner. When GJ opened it she squealed with delight. Actually GJ made fake barfing, fainting, dying sounds and motions and then laughed hysterically. GJ's new BFF in the Fart is a lover of the Bush and also Vera Bradley. Gag with GJ now. GJ has even accused her of having a Vera Bradley bag with a Sarah Palin picture on it. It's that bad. But dude...this shit is funny. The picture is autographed and reads:

Dear Good Joo-
Thank you for your support. With your help we can make America stronger, safer, and more prosperous.
Best Wishes,
Laura Bush and George Bush.

GJ appreciates a republican with a good sense of humor.

We are in our 30's...

but really we are 13. Last night GJ hosted Guest Krunk and fam and new Fart Wayne BFF Stacy and fam for dinner. This is what showed up on GJ's camera today after GJ had to frantically take pics of her dying tree to send to the tree doctor. This...this...this is Guest Krunk in all his glory. That's right. We are in our 30's, but still 13. This made GJ's day after picking Japanese beetles off of every living thing in her yard. And yes...that is Pearson in the background looking all snazzy.

C Rebels

C is an unlicensed, renegade, bad baby. As first evidenced by C's first detailed ultrasound in which C refused to sit still for measuring, C is going to drive too fast, smoke crack, and avoid paying taxes when C grows up. C is one bad dood.

That's right. Dood. Although a little early, C got an unexpected ultrasound this week when he? refused to sit still so the OB could check the heartrate. In said ultrasound, the OB thought she saw a penis. Now, while this glimpse of an Eiffelwang is not 100% certain, it is sufficiently possible for this Joo to have head spinningly vomited all over her burgeoning belly, the OB, some passers-by on their way to a pregnant person convention, and the ultrasound machine.

Horror.

Putrefaction.

Bad Joo was expecting a girl. Bad Joo has no idea how she is going to take care of a penis. She barely knows what to do with the dirty foreigner's penis, and her job is not to keep that one clean.

This Joo should not be surprised, however. Good Joo had girls, and it therefore stands to reason that Bad Joo should have a boy. Still, Bad Joo intends to make the best of this by causing C to be a screaming Mary. To this end, BJ has decided to name C "Valentine Madonna Cher Sparkle Joo." Valentine Madonna Cher Sparkle Joo will be enrolled in voice lessons, ballet, and cub scouts before age 2. VMCSJ will learn to love it. And VMCSJ will wear all his cousins' clothing. Including B's leg warmers. And love it.

Any additional suggestions for ensuring the queeritude of this fetus are welcome.

OMG

OMG...who are these people and why the eff don't they live in Fart Wayne?

WARNING: most will find this offensive (except BJ and GJ and Brad and Good Jew)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuyF46oG2ik

15 weeks

Now taking applicants for surrogate mothers willing to carry C the rest of the way. Please send your CV and an ultrasound of your womb, being sure to point out any unusual amenities (such as a wet bar, jacuzzi, wall-to-wall carpeting, or in-womb wifi) to:

Bad Joo
Some Midwestern Town
101010

Thank you.

Nummy

Let's not beat around the bush...B has had a shitty day so GJ let her eat a marshmallow. Just because GJ let her fall out of the neighbor's toy car and split her head open does not mean that GJ is a bad momma. Eminem's momma is a bad momma. Just because GJ is making her wear Target brand diapers during the day does not make her a bad momma. So what that they leak pee all over. Just because GJ is spending all of B's 1st birthday money on A's tuition for next year does not make her a bad momma. With the cost of the tuition she can just dream about what a kick ass 1st bday it was going to be. Poor B. Being the second sucks sometimes.

Pregnancy Part Aw Hell Just Throw Me Away with the Garbage Already

In celebration of BJ's achievement of reaching week 14, BJ has artfully drawn the above self portrait for all of youse. This portrait was drawn shortly after the third person in one day asked BJ if she was pregnant with twins. The correct response, of course, to BJ's reply of "no" is not, and this may shock all of you, "are you sure." Bad Joo is perty damn near ready to start suffocating people who ask this particular follow up question with her resplendent arm fat.

Those who know BJ in the flesh will immediately note that this drawing is somewhat flawed in that BJ's legs are not this long.

Part I of Many in the Joos' Series - Why Pregnancy Sucks

So, pregnancy sucks. At least for the Joos. Sure, for many of you out there, pregnancy is a time of glowing, contentedly stroking your ever-swelling abdomens, and trying on various fashionable slings for baby. For the Joos, however, it is a time of swelling to monstrous proportions, bacne, and psychotic mood swings. These mood swings are not helped by those surrounding the Joos, although, to be fair, the Joos could be surrounded by a million Mother Theresas and still rip the eyes from the sockets of anyone who spoke to them.

Since Bad Joo is clearly meant to be pregnant, her body has, at 13 weeks, swollen to size AREYOUFUCKINGKIDDINGME (petite)? This has, as you Internettes might imagine, lead to many the hilarious exchange.

Case in point:

Bad Joo gave up on fitting into her tiny tees this week and decided to wear a maternity shirt to work. THIS WAS A BAD, A BAD YOU KNOW IT SHAMON DECISION. For immediately upon her arrival at work, the following occurred:

BAD JOO'S BOSS: Hello, Chubby!

fin

Internettes, you do not need to know how a pregnant Joo reacts to being called chubby. Bad Joo does not want you to develop chronic nightmares or begin torturing animals in your angst and despair. Suffice it to say that there are bits of vocal chords strewn about many a historic building throughout Bible Belt City, and Bad Joo's Boss has retired. And Bad Joo has decided 'tis better to have one's melon-like belly hang from the bottom of a tiny tee than to eviscerate one's boss following a chubbers comment.

Watch for more hilarity as we follow Bad Joo down the long, long, interminably long road to C's arrival. God Save Us.

C

In honor of Michael Jackson's passing, Bad Joo has made a C. Easy as 1-2-3.

C is due January 7.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

The Joos, especially this Bad Joo, apologize for the long delay between posts as of late. These Joos have been very busy with stupid Joo tricks, including without limitation attending the familiest of reunions in Fort We-Have-Fake-Amish-People-For-You-To-Look-At and tending B, who is quite delayed in the development of an immune system.

These Joos promise to resume blogging w/ a vengeance.

Oh and

RIP Michael Jackson.

Dandelion Fluffy

Some of the peeps might think ahhhhhhhhh summer when they look at this darling photo of A. If they could only hear GJ sneezing, hacking, horking, snotting, weeping, wheezing, dying, etc in the background. GJ spends much of the allergy season snotting around and coughing up lots of interesting blob like items into the kitchen sink, various toilets, out the car door, in the parking lot, etc. GJ also spends a lot of time making horrible throat clearing noises while sticking her index finger 2 feet into her ear and moving it around rapidly. This is the ONLY method to relieve horrible itching between the ear and throat. It is a hot method. Allergy season is hot.

Photo curtesy of Jamie...mother of Macy...twin of B

Extracurricular Activities

When told by GJ that she would be attending her dad's softball game (extracurricular activity), A appeared in this outfit. When GJ arrived at the game with A, B, and Lucy (no Gonna...bad Gonna), GJ's hubby appeared to be embarrassed by the "outfit". What's wrong with a good pair of hose? With control top?

A Little Sprinkle Never Hurt Anyone...

GJ promised Gonna a box of cookies if she let A have her way. Good Gonna.

Shake That Recipe

A is well aware of her roots. She was conceived in the "D" and enjoys Eminem almost as much as GJ, Good Jew, and da hubby. GJ and A have special dance time everyday where they shake it to various inappropriate songs by Eminem, D12, etc. Da hubby finds it disturbing and often shouts "THAT'S INAPPROPRIATE!" Of course it is. But he is still bopping his head isn't he? When has GJ or her offspring ever followed the social norms? Did someone suggest GJ and A dance to Kidz Bop or some other horrifying shit? Jesus music? No. The latest and greatest dance session is performed to Eminem (of course) and his song entitled "Shake That".

CHORUS: Shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me, come on girl shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
A: Shake that recipe, shake that recipe, come on girl shake that recipe, shake that recipe

Only another indication that A is the shit and all other kids suck.

Joo Quandary

Bad Joo's dilemma this evening? Allow her brain to rot whilst being fed legal voyeuristic views of life in a fundamentalist family that-I-shit-you-not-thinks-God-wants-them-to-have-eighteen-kids or allow her brain to rot whilst touring the Obama White House with Brian Williams? Oh, what a quandary.

Kevin

A: When you die you go to "Kevin".
GJ: What?
A: When you die you go to "Kevin". He makes you better and then sends you back.
GJ: Who told you that?
A: Grandma
GJ: Kevin sounds like a nice dude.

This after weeks of re-enacting the crucifixion. All animals in our house had to die, go to a cave and come out three days later. GJ might be rethinking this whole "I want A to make her own decisions about everything". That's what the GJ gets for letting A to church with her best friend on Easter.

Bad Supreme Court, Bad

These Joos are not happy with the California Supreme Court's upholding of Prop 8. In fact, these Joos would like to bitch slap the CSC with a cheesy (but straight and married) dick.

That is all.

Dear Terry

Dear Terry-

Unfortunately you went extinct...ohhhh...65 million years ago. You are, therefore, not welcomed on GJ's deck anymore. Every morning when GJ looks out and you squawk like something out of Jurassic Park, GJ shits her diaper. You are not cute. You are extinct. Ciao Terry the Pteradactyl.

Fondly,

GJ

If this were one of those blogs where peeps post great shopping finds,

you internettes would be all over this shit. That's right, it's an Official Edward Cullen Twin Fleece Blanket, thank you very much. Available here: http://dasweetzpot.ecrater.com/product.php?pid=3968821 . And this Joo thinks that if Bedazzle had this in her crib, she'd be immune to all those common childhood ailments (like pneumonia). And she'd grow up to be a strong, independent woman.

Toot Toot

GJ felt bad posting such a homely pic of the Horn, so here are a few cuter ones. When you are sick in this house you get to eat whatever you want. Toot.

Diagnosis...Pneumonia

GJ told you it was a bad Monday. Monday the Dazzle Horn was diagnosed with bronchiolytis. Tuesday the Horn was diagnosed with pnemonia. AND on Wednesday Gonna was diagnosed with kidney stones and cystitis or some shit. This after she dribbled blood from her hoo all over the house. $5000 later it has been determined that the house of GJ is once more the house of skank. For those of you that were waiting for a return phone call from GJ...it's not happening in the near future.

Is it still Monday...

Clearly Gonna did not get the memo that Monday has passed. It is not still Monday. Gonna would like to carry on the tradition of Monday, however, by peeing on the GJ's floor. Granted GJ hates the flooring in her house this does not give Gonna (die) the right to piss on the floor. GJ already knows what BJ will say. GJ doesn't care if she is sick. If she isn't sick now she is gonna be in a few hours. Gonna does not understand what this does to the GJ. Gonna has no idea what her dad is going to say...GJ does...

*Note to PETA. GJ is a supporter of you. GJ is not really going to kill Gonna. It's just how GJ is "feeling" right now. The GJ hubby is a different story.

Offspring

A is better at expressing her emotions than GJ. Here she is letting GJ know exactly how she feels about Monday morning. GJ is going to borrow these and wear them for the rest of the week.

Monday Morning

If you live in the house of GJ you must love glazed donuts. There is no alternative. Okay. You can like chocolate donuts too. That's it. Get that nasty ass BJ loving custard crap out of the house. Gross. This morning the GJ woke up sore (landscaping) and tired (shocking). GJ soon discovered that there was no creamer in the house, which means no coffee. GJ ONLY drinks coffee for the creamer. GJ got in the car and drove to Meijer to obtain creamer and donuts. GJ returned home, gave kids donuts, ate several herself, and then was promptly barfed on by the Bedazzler. Because it just ain't Monday morning in the house of GJ unless everything is effed by 7:30. The GJ has had to calm herself with Taco Bell and Mountain Dew. By the above diet you would think the GJ was preggers again.

One Time At Band Camp

Not really. Although GJ did play the flute (feebly) and piano (loudly) for a few years during her adolescence. So anyway. This one time in Fart Wayne GJ was preggers with the Dazzle Horn (B). GJ was still wallowing in self pity from the move to Fart and the fact that she was pregnant. GJ really does not enjoy being pregnant. Someone (fine...GJ's OB) had just called to announce that GJ was diabetic. Now, GJ knew it was from the 15 poptarts and Mountain Dew that she had consumed in the waiting room prior to the test, but didn't feel it appropriate to tell the OB this. Who would believe GJ anyway? Pregnant people do NOT partake in such a diet. That's ridiculous. GJ just had not been feeling like herself and with the new sugar baby syndrome was just generally feeling like shit. After several phone calls to the lawyer hubby ("SUGAR...some of us have to work"), GJ decided to just drag herself to the OB. Upon arrival at the office of the OB, GJ whipped open the door and announced that she was in labor. Pandemonium ensued and two hours later it was determined that GJ should shut the fuck up. It was just a bladder infection. After obtaining antibiotics, GJ marched home and threw herself into bed. Poor A just meandered around the house playing horse doctor..."GET IN YOUR STALL. YOU ARE STICK. YOUR PEE IS FULL OF BUGS". While resting GJ's fab dog Lu entered the room all weird and drooly like. GJ looked. Re-looked. And looked again only to determine that it was too late. Lu barfed fluorescent yellow all over the builder grade carpet and bed. Crying, GJ laid on the floor clutching her bladder and simultaneously cleaning up dog vomit. The down comforter was dragged down the stairs to the new, sparkling front loader. GJ's only request upon purchasing a new washer and dryer were that they would wash a king sized down comforter. Fifteen minutes into the "clean the dog barf off of this" cycle the washing machine blew up. Crying again, GJ dragged the 5000lb comforter, full of water, out to the deck to dry. And 15 minutes later "Terry" the pterodactyl or blue heron if you will (more on this later) flew over the comforter and shit on it. And this friends was the worst day in all of GJ's life.

SIDE NOTE...the GJ loves a comma whether it belongs or not. Like it. GJ may have also missed a few. Like that too.

Deanne Volunteers

Deanne has assembled a group of volunteers (on BJ's body) to help educate children about acne. Her goal is to teach adolescents that acne doesn't make them different, weird, or ugly, but that it is a normal part of growing up.


And being 34.

This Joo is hoping Deanne and her teammates will perform some inspirational song and dance numbers a la Up With People http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UOd-BT2N-18 . Click on it. Do it.

Deanne Season Deux

The Joos have been getting a lot of fan mail asking about Deanne (what she's doing, what her favorite color is, if she's still around, if she's a top or a bottom) and this Joo is just ducking in to let you know that Deanne is still very much alive. She's thinned down a bit and taken on a ropy, muscled physique, but she's still perched on BJ's cheekbone, keeping watch over the lower 2/3 of BJ's face and judging all those who come too close.

Hisssssss!

O-Put Him in my Butt-Bama

Speaking of Obama. This is the glorious coffee mug that GJ's husband brought back from his recent trip to D.C. It's the best gift the GJ had ever received. GJ squealed with delight upon opening it and promptly made out with hubby. Fantastic. It makes mornings so much better. It makes coffee so much better. It makes life so much better. The GJ spends hours lovingly washing it and hand drying it and drinking coffee out of it at all sorts of random hours. In case it has not become clear to our charming readers yet...the Joos love us some OBAMA. GJ recently asked hubby on his next trip to D.C. if she could come along. Not to hang with him, but to hang on the White House fence (licking it) and waiting for a glimpse of Obama. Obviously once he meets the GJ (who won Indiana for him) he will immediately place GJ in some sort of spectacular position where GJ will spend her time adoring him.

Dear Google

Please remove the Antibama ads from this blog, or the Joos will be forced to feck your shit up.

About that poll (about time)

So, it would appear from our polling results that many of you believe yourselves to be called Luca. And, for the record, the majority of you would prefer that the Joos let loose with constant strings of profanity so twisted and wrong they would make a sailor cry. So it is written, so it shall be, with the caveat, of course, that the Joos are verboten by MDH to swear for, and this is a direct quote with which many of you are probably familiar, "I did not undergo ___ hours of labor without an epidural for THIS." So at least on the eve of the day o' the mother, these Joos shall keep it tidy. Not clean, but tidy.

All the Single Gonnas

Gonna is being an ass and is completely uncooperative. It's as if she can read and knows that her mom (GJ) is waiting with baited breath to catch her eating a poptart or one of those pacifier suckers. Perhaps it's the camera one centimeter from her face at all times that has ruined the quest. You know as soon as GJ is nursing B or wiping A's butt that Gonna is gonna put a candy necklace on and eat it piece by piece...

If you liked it, then you shoulda put Gonna on it. Oh oh oh.

Gonna is the most ridiculous cat to come along since those cats of old wives tales who suck the breath out of sleeping babies. Not that Gonna wouldn't suck the breath out of sleeping babies if there were sugar involved.

It has recently come to GJ's attention that Gonna has a motherfecking sweet tooth. The Joos shit you not. This came to light yesterday morning when, after having looted the candy stashed by A in her room, Gonna walked, nay, sauntered into the kitchen with the stick of a lollipop hanging out of her ridiculous ass mouth. And so, the Joos hereby declare that thus begins a quest to photograph Gonna with an assortment of bonbons in her pretty mouth.

IT IS SO ORDERED.

Deanne Meets the Boss

Boss: What's that on your face?
Bad Joo: A zit.
Boss (concerned, terrified, disgusted, and maybe just a little turned on by Deanne's enormity): Oooh.

Zitdate

Due to popular request, and by "popular request", BJ of course means "one person asked, which made BJ's day, because that means that at least one person reads this blog", BJ is pleased to present a portrait of herself and Deanne.

Deanne is still doing well. She's a fighter and is not likely to relinquish her comfortable residence on Bad Joo's face despite numerous applications of benzoyl peroxide, salicylic acid, Retin-A, toothpaste, very small rocks, breakfast cereals, and Raid®. However, her insistance that BJ and others sing her "How Great Thou Art" as a lullaby each night is getting old.