Sunny Dis-positional Kickstands

LAST THOUGHTS TO YESTERDAY
Yesterday I spoke of my well endowed children. After reviewing my comments section I see that Mighty Doll made a great comment about reading that the genetics of the mother carry down into the sexual genetics of the child. See, now I remember reading that somewhere too...

but just to make sure...

I researched my husbands baby book and indeed.... *snicker*
"Honey, did you just get out of the pool on this shot?"
"Wow, that's not two belly buttons, right?"
"Oh, my bad. I think I thought that was your sister"

He didn't have a sister people. Anyway.
No worries, he's a striking manly unit now. *waving to husband frantically and holding white flag of surrender* Does everybody understand I'll get a nipple pinch and an arm punch when he reads this?

In his favor though, we did find this picture of him in the album, which affirms my suspicion that he IS in fact a "breast man." He still has that dream by the way.

Ah hah.
Anyway... I know in the future my kids will somewhat hate the fact that they're well endowed since they'll spend more time watching her flinch and finding a comfortable position then they will be having fun. It takes a special woman to take a special man... After all this time I still don't understand how some women can take more than 7.5 inches comfortably.

You get mad props ladies. I'm a 6.5-7.0er myself. Anything after that may cause teeth-grittage... BUT I'll take it for the team if I have to. NO, re-read that... I said take it FOR the team, not take the TEAM.


BIRD CACA
Yesterday Huneeb and I were goofing around in the comments section when we somehow got on the topic of when I asked my father where babies come from. My mother was entirely too literal about everything... and would most likely spend hours breaking down for me the birds and the bees, the metaphors, the colorful insinuations... blah blah (and she knew this). So when it came to this question she grabbed my shoulders and pivoted little Emma around to ask her father. I don't remember the whole flux of the conversation, but if memory (sorta) serves, it went something like this:

"daddy?"
"Yes"
"Where did I come from?"
"Shhh... its almost to commercial time, ask me then."
*20 minutes later*
"daddy?"
"Yes"
"where did I come from?"

Dad looks at me, picks me up and sits me on his knee... "You sure you want to know?"
"uh-huh..."
"Well honey..." *long pause* "A bird shit on a fence post and the sun hatched you."

You can imagine the horror I felt as a 5 year old knowing I was born by that of foul feces and the solar rays of the sun. It haunted me for years... And in second grade when my girl friends would snicker on the monkey bars I informed them of my plight.

"Oh yeah? Well a bird shit on the fence post and the sun hatched me."
"No way stoopid, your dad has a thing called a penis he sticks in your mothers vagina and instantly your mother had you in her stomach... then when you were done cooking she pushed you out."
"How did she push me out?"
"Her butt."

I would have preferred the bird story to my mother shitting me out after baking me until I was ready after being planted in her stomach by this awful thing called a penis. And how dare he hurt my mothers vagina like that. What's a vagina anyway?

I know, I know... you think Im making this up... but not so. I still have the note my Kindergarden teacher wrote to my mother about my potty talk on the playground, and how the bird story may not have been appropriate to tell a impressionable youngster such as myself.

My mother framed it, it's hanging in her office.

So there you go Huneeb... there's my tale, sad but true.

LOOKING & HANGING UP
I overcame a battle I've been dealing with the last couple of weeks. I'm damn proud of myself. My editor too is taking strides to heal as he was dealt with some nastiness which pre-empted my nastiness and well, it was down right ugly around these parts.

I would love to blog about the scenario, but it wouldn't be good unless we did it "He said, She said" style... SO I'm waiting for Shawn to come back to us.


For those of you that know the details I have to share this conversation. It will make you smile.
For those of you not aware of the situation, it may still be humorous... and will leave you guessing until we post the back-ground behind the content :)

"Em?"
"Shawn, sup?"
"This nurse JUST walked in and I totally remembered that one time that you got it on with that one girl out at the place back behind the bar, it was after closing and she was... She was..."
"Did I get it on with her out in the bar?"
"Yeah, she was this brunette..."
"Shit, I don't even remember that."
"It was you, I swear it!"
*long pause*
"Yeah, that was totally me I remember now. She was at my birthday party."
"You had a birthday recently?"
"uh-huh..."
"Happy Birthday. Ok, Im going now... bye."

Which almost caps this one I got about five minutes ago.. on my voicemail:

"Hey Emma it's Shawn. My mother tells me we're not dating, I thought for sure we were... Do we sleep together at least? Okay that's a bunch of BS, I know we don't sleep together... I thought for sure I could play possum about it. What about a sympathy vote, do I get that? Apparently I take these meds every so often and I get a stiffie, I'd like to utilize this function... (long pause and then a whisper into the reciever) make my mother go away... come visit me."

*click*

Happy Hump Day!