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.