I'm not dead. But I really, really wish I were. Yeah, I'm back to that but for different reasons. You see, no matter how much I rest, change up my diet, drink ginger ale, take Zofran - I still feel like I have a stomach bug 24 hours a day. I'm still dry heaving and vomiting and nauseated at all hours of the day. Nothing will kill your creative drive like this situation. I want to curl up in a ball and wait for it to be over. Yet I can't. Everything needs doing. Dishes, laundry, doctor's appointments, eating. Oh god. The fucking eating. It's like an added job I have now. Eating. I can't wait until the nausea tinged ravenous hunger goes away forever and ever.
So I'm nauseous, constantly hungry but with zero appetite, in pain from a few large cysts that have made a cozy little home on my ovary, fatigued, and worst of all I somehow got sucked into watching that horrible show More to Love that I blogged about a while back. I'm so ashamed. I hate the show. It makes me feel gross. Here's why: The women are pretty and yet all they do is complain about the fact that no guys ever like them because of their size. Every bad thing in their life they manage to blame on their weight. Everything. They don't talk about anything but their weight. I'm screaming at my TV, "Don't you have anything else to fucking talk about? Books? Movies? Politics?" And it's become painfully obvious to me that the reason these women are unlucky in love is because they have zero self-esteem whatsoever. Are there men who don't like heavier women? Sure. But I still see heavyset women in relationships all of the time. If you have large boobs and a vagina, you're bound to find a man at some point. Right? Just having a vagina means never having to beg for sex.
Which is why I'm really confused about that new HBO show Hung. How is Ray finding all these women to pay him for sex? I realize he has a big dick and all, but even so. He is sort of a pompous ass about it. Eh, I don't get it. But I still watch it. Honestly, my TV watching is out of control and it's about to turn into a full-blown addictive disease once September comes.
What I am most excited about (aka what is keeping me alive):
1. Sons of Anarchy 2. Mad Men 3. House 4. So You Think You Can Dance 5. Fringe
I get a lot of flack from a lot of people for letting Liv watch "South Park". Apparently this makes me a terrible parent. And maybe that's true. I don't deny that my parenting skills are amateur on a good day. I don't deny that I struggle with the complex nature of proper bedtimes, balanced meals, and the importance of saying "No". I do, however, take great pride in the fact that I'm a better mother than Susan Smith, Andrea Yates, and all those mothers on Lifetime made-for-TV movies "suffering" from Munchausen's by Proxy. At least my kid is still alive and not slowly dying from arsenic poisoning. Her teeth may be rotting out of her mouth with multiple cavities from all the candy I use to bribe her to behave herself, but they're just her milk teeth. I'll get it right with the second set, I promise.
South Park might not be the most appropriate TV for a toddler. But I have this to say about South Park: At least the parents on this show seem to give a fuck about their kids. No matter what horrible shit those kids pull, no matter how mouthy they get, no matter how they curse, or lie, or run away, or see imaginary feces singing Christmas tunes, their parents are there for them when it counts. I can't say the same from what I see of the parents on most traditional children's programming, Compared to them, I might just be Mother of the Fucking Year.
Take for instance, Dora the Explorer - This poor little girl. Her parents are so selfish that they have basically signed over all their parental rights to a backpack. And even though the thing does contain limitless amounts of useful objects and monies, it's no replacement for, you know, actual emotional support from loving parents. A magic backpack isn't going to wipe her tears, remind her to brush her teeth before bed, or, most importantly, deliver a well-deserved spanking to her bratty ass on occasion. Besides, that backpack is a sycophant. Dora needs a parent not an accessory that answers to her every whim and desire.
Dora's parents suck. Instead of spending quality time with their daughter or perhaps sending her to school once in a while, they send Dora off every day on "adventures", with not so much as a "Be careful". Most of these adventures happen to involve regular encounters with a conniving fox whose sole purpose in life is to fuck with her and steal her belongings. This Swiper character is really my favorite. He steals Dora's shit and then hides it. It's like he doesn't even steal the stuff because he wants it;He steals it for the sheer pleasure of watching Dora and her friends get upset and scramble around trying to find it. And then there's her frequent encounters with the grumpy, old troll who, if you ask me, more closely resembles a grumpy, old child molester. And let's not forget that malevolent witch who taunts and threatens her with ungodly world calamities (e.g. stealing Springtime) unless she and her monkey friend perform dangerous tasks at her behest.
Damn Scary if you ask me
I guess ever since the unmonikered twins were born, Mami and Papi are just too busy to spend more than a second or two at a time with their eldest daughter. Poor Dora has to fend for herself like some sort of feral cat. It's a good thing she has a naked monkey, a cow, a buck-toothed squirrel in a technicolor dream coat, and a marauding marching band of bugs to look after her. She's got quite a menagerie of incompetent guardians but they can never fill that empty place in her heart left by Mami and Papi's absence.
Here's a perfect example of what could happen if you let your daughter be raised by a backpack, a monkey, and a map:
Yeah, she might end up endorsing products that purport to be children's toys but in reality are meant to penetrate woman's vaginas. (Now that I think about it, I might have to get one of these. Dildo incognito)
And look at her cousin Diego. I mean parental neglect must run in this fucking family. Diego lives in a tree house and has constant forays into the jungle with zero adult supervision. His everyday activities there include, but are not limited to, playing with deadly, carniverous animals, hang gliding, white water rafting, and rescuing venomous snakes. In the rare moments his parents are seen onscreen, they appear to be more interested in helping endangered animals than in caring for their own offspring. Diego, though a minor child, is often seen driving a car, riding a jet ski, and travelling by way of zip line. Diego's parents are negligent assholes, and I, for one, think cockroaches are better equipped to raise healthy human beings.
And what's the deal with Calliou's parents? They look good on paper, true. But when you really stop to think about it, they're the most passive aggressive people you'll ever encounter. When Calliou misbehaves they always make him talk about his feelings. Fuck that shit. What ever happened to good old fashioned ass whoopings? Calliou is a pussy just like his dad. And when are they going to openly acknowledge the fact that their son has a severe case of alopecia? Ignoring it isn't go to make everything okay. Kid is bald. Time to start talking about that shit. If this were South Park, you just know Chef would be singing a little ditty about how "we need to show everyone we care, even if they don't have any hair". Granted, he might end the song talking about the bald nubian goddess he fucked years ago, but at least there's a dialogue about the issue. Calliou's baldness is like the elephant in the fucking room and it's high time they addressed it.
Then there's Fairly Oddparents, a show which details the adventures of Timmy Turner and his fairy godparents. And thank the Lord Jesus for those damn fairies, because Timmy's Fairly Negligent Parents seem to be so self-involved that they fail to notice the regular abuse he receives at the hands of a sadistic, psychopathic babysitter named Vicky.
Dragontales? Should be called "Dragon your ass to family court for a parental competency hearing". Where the hell are these kids' parents when they're taking constant forays into magical lands? Why doesn't anybody know they're gone? I could go and on about the horrible parenting skills and the dysfunctional relationships I see on Nick Jr and Sprout every day. I could write an entire thesis paper on Disney Moms & Dads and their numerous parental transgressions. Maybe one day I will. But I think I've more than proven my point with what I've already laid out here. I rest my case. The verdict? I'm a better parent than these assholes any day of the week. The damages you're going to pay me for talking shit about me for letting Livy watch South Park? Leave me the hell alone about it. And buy me a Starbucks cafe mocha with extra whip cream. Then, and only then, will I grant you an official pardon.
First of all, I want to say thanks for all the congratulations and well wishes on my pregnancy. I had an ultrasound Friday and here's what happened.
The tech says, "I need to get a better look at that..."
"Well...there's three. I don't want to scare you but there's three."
"Three babies. I see three babies."
At this point I started shaking and tearing up. God is punishing me for my Hating Fetuses and Children post. He is punishing me for being an awful person.
"Are you alright, Gwen?"
I nodded and she started checking the gestational sacs for heartbeats.
"I'm only seeing 2 sacs with heartbeats. There's no cardiac activity in the third sac."
So I finally started breathing a little because twins are better than triplets. But twins? Really? God has a really funny sense of humor. Or he hates my guts. I'm guessing the latter.
I'm on vacation now trying to process the news that I have this long, high risk pregnancy in front of me. I already have a baby bump and I'm only 2 months. It sucks because I'm not obviously pregnant, I just look like I have this big beer belly or something. This is not attractive at the beach. I also have an appetite that could support a 700 pound man. '
Alright, I'm done talking about my pregnancy. I promise. I'm on vacation until Saturday. I'm going to post a couple old blogs that probably nobody read because I used to have like 3 readers for the longest time.