That Just Happened!

 Last night as MPW and I were lying in bed we started talking about my uterus and I found out some pretty frightful truths about MPW’s knowledge of Lady Bits.

He puts his hand on my stomach and says something about my uterus.  I casually say “That’s not my uterus.”  After a moment MPW says “Yeah I know.  Well, where is it?”  Of course I start laughing.  “Where the heck do you think it is?” I giggle.  At this point he chokes and says “I don’t know.”  So I point to where it would be.   He continues to look at me strangely.  So, I say “well, it’s only like this big,” and I hold up my fist.  At this point MPW looks pretty dang confused.  “But, how does a baby fit in there?”  I look at him incredulous.  “I can’t believe you are 28 years old and you don’t know about the female reproductive system.  It friggin stretches you weirdo!  What did you think it was a parachute, all folded up until baby and then *poof* it explodes into being?  Does it look like a deflated balloon in the mean time?” 

“No,” MPW says peevishly.  “You’re really enjoying this aren’t you?  I bet you can’t tell me where the prostate is.”  I really could not stop laughing at the image of this parachute uterus, but this sent me over the edge.  I offered to show him, but he declined.  Maybe me wiggling my eyebrows when I offered freaked him out.  Through my tears of laughter I said sarcastically, “Yeah, and I bet you thought the ovaries are the size of real eggs too.” 

*pause*

“How big are they?”   “You can’t be serious?” I said incredulously, “where is my giant uterus and egg-sized ovaries fitting in here?  Where do you think I’m hiding those?”  He points to a place around my kidney.  “They’re not earphones, man, the tube is not that long and my ovaries are tiny.  They are like this big,” and I hold up my fingers an inch apart. At this point MPW is pretty embarrassed, but I just cannot stop laughing.  And not a pretty laugh, no.  A loud guffawing, hiccuping laugh so hard that tears are streaming down my face.  MPW is tired and pretty irritated at this point. 

After a few more minutes of me guffawing, MPW turns to me and says, “so if I was going to punch you in the baby-maker  I would have been way off,”  rolls over and goes to sleep.

http://artofmanliness.com/2009/03/18/11-manliest-anchormen/

Yeah, That Just Happened!

Today I am going to do something a bit different.  Mama Kat @ Mama Kat’s Losin’ It hosts writing prompts (go here to see the prompt page) and although I have read many of them with glee, I have never participated.  However, “the time has come” as the Walrus said.  This week one of the prompts is:

 1.) Time for your tangent…what is your latest complaint?
(inspired by Jill from I Don’t Want An Oscar)  (BTW, I Don’t Want An Oscar is a Freakin Awesome Blog, you should totally check it out!)

Well, you may or may not know, but I love a good rant.  I’ve done it and I love when other people have them.  Why?  Because it totally means I am not the only one who gets worked up over the small and seemingly insignificant details of life.  I’ve ranted about the Library and the stupid eye-poking tree and now I am going to rant about V-Day.  I shouldn’t really be surprised seeing as how Christmas is starting in Aprilnow, but the posts in bloggyland are coming fast and furious for V-Day gift ideas, treats, activities, blah, blah, blah…

Ooooooo.   *shaking my fist* I HATE Valentine’s Day.  I pretty much always have.  Now, before you go calling me all bitter, hear me out.  I am in a relationship.  In fact, MPW shows up frequently on my blog (usually because he’s made me angry, but whatev).  So, my disdain for the stupidest day of the year is not because I am lonely and tired of making it about friendship love where we all get together and eat raw cookie dough and complain about men (that has never happened BTW).  When I tell people I don’t do V-Day they roll their eyes and immediately ask if it’s because I’m single, so I thought I would put that to rest.

www.fixcas.com

I hate V-Day because I think it is the most  commercial, unnecessary and meaningless “holiday” of the year.  (I even hesitate to say holiday because we don’t get time off. Maybe if we did it would be something I could get behind).  Nope, Christmas is about spending time with family and baby Jesus.  Thanksgiving is spending time with family and giving thanks for your blessings.  Easter is about spending time with family and adult Jesus.  Canada Day is appreciateing your country and spending time with your fellow Canadians.  Valentine’s Day is just an excuse for the men who got their wives insulting gifts for Christmas to get them a better present to make up. Let’s face it, sleeping on the couch loses it’s appeal after 1 month.  Then one week is spent trying to think of the perfect idea; one that will get them off the couch, but won’t be so good they won’t be able to top it next year.  Then 4 days gearing up to go to the mall/store.  Then the day of to pull it all together (which is inevitably why the woman gets to sleep in, because he is running out to get your present).

Okay, so that is part one of why I hate it and dread it each year.  The next part is (which is arguably the most important) I hate that you are told how to feel.  That today, of all days, is the one day that you are supposed to proclaim your love, and be perfect in your relationships, and say sorry.  Why not every day?  Plus, you know that everyone else is doing/saying the same things, so what makes it special?  If you really love me, flowers for no reason on any other day would mean a bucket load more than flowers on a day that you feel obligated and it is what you are “supposed” to do.  All those people going to restaurants with overpriced meals and buying over priced flowers and using up all that red construction paper. It’s just depressing.

I know it’s a month away, but man, the fever has already started. 

On the plus side, MPW is the most envied man in his office. When I met him I told him if he did anything I would break up with him.  He was actually happy to oblige and still is. Now he even stopped asking “are you sure?” and looking at me as if this was a test.

Yeah, That Just Happened!

Okay, so I have already blogged about the ridiculousness of this office.  Although I can appreciate the attempt at building a Fortress of Solitude it is a little lame to be literally removing yourself from the rest of  your coworkers. 

I work in a very small office with about 3 other people and my boss. Occasionally other guys come in to use their desk/photocopier/bathroom and foul up the atmosphere with horrible language and generally degrading behaviour. So today this guy comes in and calls over the founder of the No Homers Allowed Club and goes into the front lobby to see the other member of their No Girls Allowed Club. Then shuts the doors. Where they have been for the last 20 minutes.

Probably talking about how they hate it when their Mom’s make them give them a kiss goodbye in front of their friends and how WOW2 is sooo  much lamer than WOW3.  Because that’s what teenage boys talk about right? Oh well, back to work for the rest of us stinky girls *there are two girls in the office.  Me and one other.* It does make me wonder if being a joint member of the No Homers Allowed Club (with exclusive use of the Fortress of Solitude) and the No Girls Allowed Club means you can combine your dues to save money.  Hey, allowance money doesn’t go far these days!

Yeah, That Just Happened!