You guys are the only people who understand me
I just wanted to thank everyone for the overwhelming support they have shown for my decision to have an imaginary baby. It's like...you guys just don't know how much it means to me. Especially since my friends have been a little (a whole lot actually because they're all gigantic jerks) less than supportive. The other day we got called out for work super late and we had to go really far away. It was 3 a.m. when we were coming back and I was SO hungry so we stopped at a gas station to grab something. I'm trying to be super conscious of my imaginary baby's health so I asked if they had a salad bar or a healthier section somewhere and the guy at the counter was all, "huh?" and then looked at me like I was a crazy person just because I'm trying to have a healthy baby. Anyway, I grabbed the healthiest stuff I could find and we all got back into our work van to go home and my friend (who is the same anonymous friend who tried to talk me into seeing "Grand Tornado" only this time she's super lucky she's anonymous because in a moment it's going to become really obvious that she hates pregnant people and babies) started questioning me about my food. I was touched because I thought it was nice that she cared about me and the baby's health except she really didn't and all she wanted to do was pick on me.
Anonymous Friend: What's that?
Me: Tuna fish sandwhich.
Anonymous Friend: Oh.
Anonymous Friend: Now what are you eating?
Me: Crackers.
Anonymous Friend: Oh.
Anonymous Friend: Now what are you eating?
Me: Coffee cake.
Anonymous Friend: Hmmmm...
Me: What's that supposed to mean?
Anonymous Friend: Nothing.
Anonymous Friend: Now what are you eating?
Me: Doughnuts.
Anonymous Friend: Are you kidding me?
Me: What?
Anonymous: Um...
Me: I'm drinking water...
Anonymous friend: Um...
Me: What???? I'm PREGNANT!
Anonymous Friend: No you're not!
Me: You're being a huge jerk about this.
Anonymous Friend: Uh-huh.
Me: Seriously.
Then I went home and figured I'd watch "Sober House" because "Celebrity Rehab" was hilarious so I knew that the new show would cheer me up. Yeah..."Sober House" totally sucks. I cried for probably half the show and I felt sorry for people and was sympathetic and everything and I was so ashamed of myself and then James came home and totally busted me. He was all, "Ah,sweetheart...what's wrong?" and I was sniffling and snotting all over the place and I was like, "I don't know...it's like I don't even know myself anymore!!" He asked me what I was watching and I told him and he looked at me kind of funny because OBVIOUSLY I shouldn't be crying and then I was like, "I think I'm hormonal from the imaginary baby," and he told me I was crazy and walked out of the room which is the LAST thing that you should ever do to somebody who's 96 weeks pregnant. I'm totally considering making somebody else the father.
Also, some of you have mentioned that you have real babies that you blog about and that you're not rich yet...um...I don't mean to be a jerk, but when I get rich off of my baby blog, it's going to be because I'm a doctor. Hill University promised me that if I sent them $599.00, that I could earn a real life Ph.D based on all of my lifelong doctoring experience so probably some of you guys should start thinking about maybe applying yourselves a little more. Education is the key to our future, you know and I personally believe that the children are our future. We should teach them well and let them lead the way...and we can do that by investing the 15 minutes and $599.00 it takes to become doctors and lawyers and stuff.
P.S. Here's a tip for moms: When your kid is bouncing off the walls and you all need to get out of the house, why not try the dentist?
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17 comments:
I like any woman who can come up with "punkchewation." I just thought you needed to hear that.
Thanks for the comment :-)
I'm with you all the way, Lola! I think its a marvelous thing you're putting yourself through and I wish your friends were more supportive :/ They should respect your wishes regardless of their own opinions. If you need anything at all just let me know! Imaginary babysitter, lifetime supply of coffee cakes, you name it ;)
Hang in there
P.S. that kid in the video is an attention whore, im glad his dad saw it. I'd slap him right on his big tooth.
The only drawback to imaginary children is it is harder to clown them for others enjoyment. Thankfully YouTube will always provide us videos of real children being clowned for our pleasure.
ok. i laughed. a lot. i don't think i've laughed this much since i gave birth to my imaginary children.
btw. a tip. get an epidural. those imaginary newborns - let me tell you - they hurt like crazy.
96 weeks pregnant? WTF? Are you a freakin' elephant or sumfin'?
I was with you until you busted out the Whitney Houston lyrics. It brought back traumatic memories of Sexual Chocolate from "Coming to America"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWEHETqjWRs
who the hell is clowning their kids in your blog??
Ya know, I had many similar struggles when I decided to earn some extra cash as a Supermodel.
My friends (yeah "friends") were INSANELY jealous, and would roll their eyes when I complained of runway fatigue, or after party burn out, or camera flash blindness. They would become irate when they invited me over for dinner, and I would only eat a piece of parsley, or throw up their home-made Tirmasu in the bathroom, yet miss the bowl because I was "so drunk".
And when I would ask for my SWAG after a lunch date (which I always had to pay my own way for...SO not fair) they would go off on a stupid tirade, pulling out their hair while waving steak knives, and I would wait patiently for the paparazzi to come and take pictures of the whole hot mess, but all I got were grandmas snapping pix of my friends with their cell phones. Sigh...
The only modeling ad people who would call me back were ones that wanted me to take my clothes off, and c'mon even I am not THAT insane!
I really didn't make any money...
Gary and I read this, and we both peed our pants. Just thought you should know that.
Oh, my. I think we need to talk about you're healthy eating for imaginary baby, or you're going to weigh about 50 pounds more after your 100 weeks of pregnancy. Real babies weigh about 7 pounds. Imaginary ones don't weigh nearly that ...
I love your writing!
Three Things:
1) Maybe a dingo ate your imaginary baby. Just had to get that out of the way.
2) "96 weeks pregnant" made me snort apple into my nasal passage, which sucked, but now everytthing smells all "appley", which is cool.
3) I would like to officially throw my hat in the ring to be considered as the alternate father. Look, if James isn't going to respect and support your imaginary decisions, well, I mean really who can blame him, but the point is that I won't either but I will accept the moniker of father at least until it involves any real world responsibility, in which case I'm Audi 5000.
I think we both know that I will never have children. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't resist getting a vasectomy at the earliest opportunity. It's NOT MY FAULT.
I live half way across the country, will never send money or gifts to the kid, unless they're really mean gifts, like two tickets to a baseball game in Colorado that there's no chance we're going to together, and will blame the fact that you and I are not together COMPLETELY on him/her. Come on, who's going to be a better deadbeat Dad than me? I thnk it's the trashy garnish to your whole hillbilly baby scenerio-entree.
Plus, I'm just gonna tell people it's mine, anyway.
it's truly amazing how people can be so unsupportive of imaginarily pregnant people. I mean, come on, didn't we just elect the first black president? I thought we were supposed to be more open-minded now...
For the record, I do not mean to downplay the momentous and important piece of history that electing the first black president was. It was. So, you know, get off my back.
your blog is greatly appreciated and therefore has been given an award! check it out:
http://copperseal.blogspot.com
I think I just fell in love with you.
So the dilema that this computer age has created for me is that there are too many ways to contact people. Do I leave a comment on your latest post? Do I respond to your comment on my blog with another comment on said blog? Do I email you directly? Do I send you a message on myspace, simultaneosly confirming our friendship because we're on each other's friend's list (which... you know, is nice)? Or should it be Facebook? My god! The options!
Anyhoo, just wanted to say, I really relate to all the Buttheadian comments. Things is, capes ARE cool! If it wasn't for the slight giggle I feel in my soul every time I fart or (especially)hear someone else fart, I would almost immediately become a full time suicide bomber. I'd have to give two weeks notice at Coopersmith's, of course, but then it would be totally on. So, there you go.
P.S. In case the the Department of Homeland Incarceration is peeking, I have almost no intention of becoming a suicide bomber.
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