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