Of All the Stupid Shit

I get the fall J. Crew catalog in the mail today. You know when I am about to birth and be a big, flubbery, gross, milk factory, dead hoo, sleepless, hot mess. How depressing. I just laid in bed with it (occasionally licking it) wondering how long it would take me to lose 500lbs of baby and 400lbs of fluid. A week?


I get a bill in the mail from one of my 10,000 renal ultrasounds. Ultrasound $218. Insurance coverage $3. My total $215. Awesome. Thanks. And since when is an ultrasound to determine if you are indeed going to die of kidney failure experimental? Shut up.


A going to vacation bible school. I know. I know. It was an act of desperation. And not in finding the Lord. In trying to let A have some semblance of fun this summer away from her mom who is a grouchy, psycho, fat pig. Poor A. On Tuesday I walked in to pick her up only to be greeted by the preacher yelling "WHO'S BEEN FOUND?" In panic mode I tried to locate A who was very busy screaming "ME ME ME ME ME" and dancing. Holy shit. I almost went into labor.

The fact that there is currently a kitten residing in our house. I needed one more thing to do.

The phone call I received from hubby announcing his intentions to travel to NYC the week I am to be induced. Really? I think that's an awesome plan.

My bladder is infected again. Mostly because my kidney stones are rotting and molding and curdling and whatever else kidney stones that won't leave your body do. I'm on antibiotics now until birth. If you need me I will be in bed itching my yeasty hoo with an SOS pad. And I could give two shits if that's too much info. Don't you want to come visit?

Joo Song

DO NOT steal the above design, as faboo as it is, for I will hunt you down and kill you with a machete. It is my own original work in which I reserve all rights. It is an ode to my Good Joo who, despite being grossly pregnant, having the kidney stones, the G.D., the G.H., the Huge.Ass.Baby.Up.In.There, and the two children on the outside, just called to offer to DRIVE TO BIBLE BELTVILLE to care for Bad Joo's beloved dying rottenweiler. This makes my heart swell with love, even though it is in a shit situation, hence the profoundly symbolic imagery.

I'm getting a job with Hallmark next week. I'll be designing their new "Just Because" line. You can all be fucking jealous.

Now With 33% More Gadgets

If M could tear himself away from his latest book club selection, he'd love to tell you that you can now share the wit and wisdom that these Joos impart via Facebook and the like. Unfortunately, he can't, so you don't know about it. Put that it your pipe and smoke it.

P.S. The tree frog is 7 months old today. How did that happen?

This Might Be Cuter Than M

Bad Joo got a swimmering suit for her thirty thirteenth birthday. And it might be cuter than a picture of M riding a kitten on a Hallmark® card held by midget wearing fuschia knickers. For real. Even on this post partum body.

See: Lands End Canvas for details.

And they're on heavy sale. Like cheaper than Wal-Mart sale.

Love,

Bad Joo

P.S. Good Joo is still prego, still suffering, still in the USSR (or Indiana).

P.P.S. The man with the rainbow umbrella obscuring his head in the background is this Joo's part time lover.

Indiana is a Third World Country

which is why despite the G.D., gestational hypertension, kidney stones, an ongoing bladder infection, contractions, and a dilating and effacing cervix AT 32 MOTHERFUCKING WEEKS, Good Joo is still home caring for A and B and NOT, I repeat, NOT in the hospital. The infant mortality rate in third world countries is very high. Similarly, in Indiana, women still die in childbirth all the time. At 32 weeks.

For this reason, The Incision has headed down to the Fart to regulate some medical action. Look out, Fart. The Joos are pissed.




* photo courtesy of Stockvault.net

Unacceptable

Unacceptable that M has fluffier tits than his mama.
Unacceptable that M also has tree frog toes.
More unacceptable that Bad Joo's beloved rottenweiler is crippled beyond recognition.
MOST unacceptable that Good Joo's kidneys are on strike (apparently with the rottweiler's kidneys. Let's hope they went somewhere nice).

Acceptable that baby good joo is weathering the kidney tsunami okay.

This has been a red hot summer of winning, and it's only July.

Call PETA

Good Joo is switching from the third person as well. "Call PETA" was the subject on my latest email from Bad Joo. Certainly it has something to do with the abuse of the albino whale beached in a swimming pool, but I am not certain. I have given up on trying to be somewhat attractive at the neighborhood pool and have donned a bikini for the first time in a long time. I won't lie. People stare. I don't care. My stomach was so white and startling that something had to be done. It's not a good look what with the belly button scar from surgery and that damn college belly button ring, but c'est la vie. The less clothing on my body the better. I'm at the point where everything feels tight and being naked is the best bet except for the whole dealing with the husband thing. At least he thinks I'm hot. In other news A has gone from a darling 5 year old to a complete and utter asstastic 16 year old. The transformation has been incredible and traumatizing. B remains a dick and has taken to throwing things, pulling A's hair out, kicking A and only eating broccoli salad with an entire bottle of Ranch on it. I had a 3 day hospital stay for kidney stones, which is worthy of its own post. I have been told by my nutritionist to gain ONLY 1/2 lb. more this pregnancy. Obviously this caused me to laugh hysterically, spraying her with a large mouthful of Coke and Poptart crumbs. One of her many suggestions was to put cottage cheese on bread, sprinkle it with cinnamon and Splenda and then put it in the toaster oven. IT'S LIKE A DANISH! Except it's not and that is disgusting and no one owns toaster ovens anymore. Keep in mind she has a bouffant and goes to Jazzercize.