Showing posts with label imaginary baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label imaginary baby. Show all posts

How to be Married

A lesson in relationship stuff that's way smarter than stuff Oprah or Dr. Phil says because I'm a self-proclaimed expert in marriage.


By Jessica Benassi, self proclaimed expert on marriage


First - Get married before you get married. Some people call this “being divorced.” Getting married before you get married is a lot like dodgeball practice.



Sure, your co-captain launches dodgeballs at your gut the whole time, causing you to double over in agony and wonder why it seems like nobody’s following the rules.




He might even launch the ball at your head, knocking your glasses off and making it so that the tall, super bitchy blonde standing next to him is kind of out of focus and doesn’t look like a dodgeball threat.




This is ok…it’s just practice and it doesn’t actually count like a real dodgeball game . (If you’re Catholic, sometimes it’s harder to prove that dodgeball practice doesn’t count, but that’s only because most Catholic people like soccer and dodgeball probably confuses them a little bit.)
Usually you can find a fair and honest referee that will agree that your original game was just practice. Actually, sometimes the referees suck, but the important thing is that everybody agrees that at the end of the day, it was just a practice game and also, everybody should get to keep the sweatbands and tube socks that they brought to practice and not be a dick and try to take everybody else’s sweatbands and tube socks.




One thing that can get tricky is when team members decide to enlist a mascot for practice games. This is pretty stupid, because practice games don’t need a mascot and when it’s time to play real dodgeball, everybody thinks that the mascot should represent their team. The only way to solve the mascot dilemma is to put the mascot in a circle and have both co-captains from the practice game call to the mascot and let the mascot choose her own team. Also, it’s important to shove bologna in your bra and in your socks, otherwise you run the risk of the mascot choosing the wrong team and that would be stupid because you’re the one that picked the mascot in the first place.

Sometimes people get babies and little kids and stuff as mascots and things get weird. I don’t have any advice to give about that…the only mascots I’ve ever had were canine except the one time when I had a baby, except he was an imaginary baby and now he’s all grown up and in the FBI and the CIA and is apparently too good to play dodgeball with his family, and also he’s ungrateful.




Once you’re done practicing and you have your tubesocks and your sweatbands and your mascot, you’re ready for real dodgeball. Real dodgeball can also be tricky, because sometimes your co-captain seems like he’s not on your team and when you’re not looking, he’s launching dodgeballs at your gut and you might get confused and start thinking that you’re practicing again. Take a deep breath. You practiced your dodgeball game way longer than any sane person should ever practice dodgeball and you know what to do.



Crouch down…catch the ball…launch it back, straight at his big fat husband head...except be careful not to mess up the wig, because those are expensive and also probably a limited edition.




In the morning, when he is conscious again, he will acknowledge you as the Supreme Dodgeball Champion of the House and surprise you with French toast in bed and DVD copies of every Joseph Fiennes movie ever made, because Joseph Fiennes is beautiful and also the patron saint of dodgeball and marriage.



You’re welcome.



Read more...

That one time that I almost died and lost my memory and forgot that I had a blog...

So, I could give you guys a bunch of stupid excuses about why I haven't been here, whining about how, "Oh, I'm so busy...I have this new bar that I bought and I work all of the time and I'm all tired and stuff...blah blah blah..."

But you guys don't want to hear that and it's totally not even true, anyway. I love you guys so I think it's important that we're honest with each other...

The truth is, I had amnesia. And the reason that I had amnesia is because the economy completely sucks and I'm broke and my imaginary baby Awesome the First works for the FBI and I asked him if he could hook me up with a job, so he did and I became a super secret agent and I was in a helicopter chasing this fugitive from justice and we were over the ocean and the fugitive from justice was in a boat and I jumped out of the helicopter right when this giant octopus who was all entwined with this mega shark came flying out of the sea and I bounced off of the octopus' skull and passed right out. The Navy Seals came and rescued me and took me to this hospital in Switzerland, and I was ok except when I woke up I didn't remember anything - not even my own name. Plus, since I was a super secret agent, the Navy Seals and the FBI and the CIA and all of those guys weren't allowed to tell anyone anything about me, so they just left me there and everybody called me Lavender GallBladder and anyone who actually knew my real name couldn't find me...although I'm told that there was a pretty serious search effort put forth by my friends and family....you probably saw it on the news or America's Most Wanted or Mystery Science Theatre 3000 or something.



(I'm pretty sure that the octopus looked exactly like this, only about a gazillion times bigger, probably)

Anyway, Awesome the First went to his Commander in Chief and he was all,"Captain! We have to find my mom!" And the Chief Captain Commander was all, "No! You can't handle the truth!" And my son was like,"But Captain, she could be in serious peril!" And the Captain Chief Commander in Charge was all, "Get out of my office! You make me sick!" And my son was all, "I'm not leaving here without my mother!" and then he threw his gun and his badge on the desk and he stormed out of the office and the Charge Captain was all, "If you walk out of here now, son, dont come back!" and Awesome was all, "I'm not your son!" and he spit on the ground and then he came and rescued me because you can't break the bonds between a mother and her son...

Anyway, I'm ok now and I remember who I am and stuff and I'm on Super Secret Agent Hiatus for a while, because of all of the stuff that I just went through...but if you see me waiting tables anywhere, you probably shouldn't mention any of this because that would probably mean that I was back to work and all undercover and busting fugitives from justice and stuff and you guys don't want to be responsible for blowing my cover.

P.S. James was just reading over my shoulder and he was all, "Octopuses don't have skulls. They're invertebrates."
Me: "Yeah, well most sharks aren't the size of the statue of liberty either."
James: "Octopuses with skulls and giant sharks aren't real."
Me: "Ok, smart guy. Try telling that to the evil scientist that probably created them, then."
Jamies: "Didn't you major in biology?"
Me: "Um - yeah. Biology of non-evil scientist genetically manipulated sea creatures...stupid."
James: "You're a dildo."
Me: "You're just jealous because I'm a scientist and you're not."
James: "Shut up, dildo."

Anyway, the moral to the story is that James is an idiot and evil scientists are out in the world at this very moment genetically engineering squids and jellyfish and octopuses and filling them with skeletons and unicorn horns and stuff and we would all be wise to remember a little thing called the Buddy System when we go swimming.

Read more...

Child birth is really hard and also, I still don't have any Oreos.

Me: I think it's probably about time I had this baby.
James: What baby?
Me: MY baby, duh!
James: Oh my God...you're pregnant?
Me: Um...yeah....I've only been pregnant for something like 4 years, now. Geez...
James: Oh...Oh my God....I thought you were serious. I almost passed out.
Me: I AM serious!
James: I thought this baby thing was done.
Me: Nope, I just forgot for a while.
James: I don't think you're allowed to forget that you're pregnant.
Me: Yes you can, people do it all of the time. There was that one lady in New Jersey who forgot that she was pregnant for something like 50 years and then when she finally had the baby, she was the oldest mom in the world and the kid was HUGE.
James: You made that up.
Me: No I didn't...I heard it on the news!
James: The Weekly World News is not real news.
Me: Says you...anyway, we're having this baby so I'm going to need some boiling water and some towels...and a midwife...and some Oreos, probably. And a leather wallet so I don't bite my tongue off. And a lantern.
James: I'm leaving.
Me: Probably you should get a copy of Little House on the Prairie, too. And some cigars.
James: I'm seriously leaving now.
Me: You're going to leave me alone while I'm in labor???
James: I can't believe I married you.
Me: I know, right? You're probably something like the luckiest guy anyone knows.

Anyway, after 2 weeks in agonizing labor, during which I had to walk up a hill in a blizzard both ways, without any oreos because James needs husband lessons or something, I gave birth to my son, Awesome the First. He's a healthy 36 inches long and about 60 pounds. He's also an excellent dancer and the state spelling bee champion. I'm not saying that this kid is my son....but you all know what sweet moves I have, so I think its pretty obvious what's going on here:





P.S. If you guys see the CEO of Orbit Gum, will you let him know that he's a father? Also, tell him I'll take my child support payments in the flavor of Bubblemint, because everyone knows that that's the best kind and I don't want people making fun of my kid for chewing some crappy flavor like mojito mint.

Read more...

I'm starting an awareness campaign for pregnant brides because seriously, people should be way nicer to us.

So, shortly after I shredded my wedding dress (it's ok, I did it on purpose, it's going to be totally awesome) I was sitting at dinner with my jerkface Anonymous Friend.

Me: So, I really love my wedding dress but I think I'm going to have to start exercising to get rid of my waggle.
Anonymous Friend: That's easy...just do squats.
Me: For my waggle? That's not gonna work...
Anonymous Friend: Wait...what's waggle?
Me: The floaty, saggy, hangy stuff under your arms...like...wings except no cool flying ability.
Anonymous Friend: Ooooooh....yikes.
Me: Yeah...waggle is like penguin wings, kinda. I wonder if penguins hate their wings as much as I hate waggle?
Anonymous Friend: Maybe. Probably not.
Me: Like, they're always trying to come up with new exercises to work off their wings 'cause really, it's just unneccessary fat.
Anonymous Friend: I don't really think it's the same thing.
Me: Anyway, do you think if someone just lifted your arms up and down while you slept, that would get rid of it?
Anonymous Friend: No.
Me: Why, though? I mean, think about it...it's exercise, it's just that somebody else does it for you. My arms would still be working out.
Anonymous Friend: That's not how exercise works, you know. You have to actually...you know...exercise.
Me: Um...I'm pretty sure that's what I just said.
Anonymous Friend: I think there has to be some resistance involved.
Me: Right. That's why I'll have my arm, like...rubberbanded to the bed or something. That way when the exercise guy pulls my arm up, my arm will resist. I'm going to be so toned.
Anonymous Friend: You're ridiculous. That's not going to work. Also, you're going to have to pay somebody to do that and he's probably going to try and touch your boobs or something while you sleep.
Me: Nuh-uh. I'll hire a bodyguard, too.
Anonymous Friend: Because you have all of this money how...?
Me: My exercise system is patent pending. I'm probably going to be rich and buff.
Anonymous Friend: This is the dumbest idea ever.
Me: Well, I don't know what you expect me to do. I have to look good in my wedding dress and I can't really exert myself.
Anonymous Friend: Because...?
Me: Because I'm pregnant! Duh...
Anonymous Friend: Oh my god...seriously...you're still doing this...
Me: It's not like you can all of the sudden decide 3 years in that you don't want to be pregnant anymore. Didn't you ever take anatomy? You're super insensitive.
Anonymous Friend: You're super really not pregnant.
Me: I'm really imaginarily pregnant, asshat.
Anonymous friend: uh-huh.
Me: Also, I'd like a baby shower.
Anonymous Friend: No.
Me: For real. With cake and stuff.
Anonymous Friend: Absolutely not.
Me: Like, did you see the cakes on my blog?
Anonymous Friend: I don't read your blog.
Me: Too bad...I say really nice things about you all of the time. You're pratically a my-blog celebrity because of all of the nice things I say about you all of the time.
Anonymous Friend: Really?
Me: Yeah...so you should totally throw me a shower and also, I forgot to bring money. You're buying dinner, right?
Anonymous Friend: Remind me why I'm friends with you?
Me: Because I'm awesome.
Anonymous Friend: Riiiiiight.

Yeah, so she totally sucks. She refuses to throw me a shower, even when I told her she could make me a giant vagina purse cake with a baby coming out of it all posed like Venus on the half shell which seriously, would probably be something she could put on her resume. Then she came over to my house and she and James made fun of my patent-pending fitness program so probably pretty soon I'm going to have to move to the mountains or something so my baby and I can live in peace, far, far away from all of this negativity I'm constantly surrounded with.

P.S. So I thought pretty much everyone had seen this video but when it came up in conversation about 15 times this week, it turns out that lots of people have NOT seen this video. Which is stupid. Because seriously...awesome. Also, I was going to warn you that the content is kind of raunchy juvenile humor but then I remembered that you were at my blog so you're probably already used to a lot of immaturity.

Read more...

If you came here looking for ass bunnies and hot noodles...I'm not really sure what to say to you.

So, really, really exciting news this week...I'm the first thing that comes up if you Google "ass bunnies." Seriously. It's almost like I'm famous. Also, lots and lots and lots of people Google "ass bunnies" and end up on my blog. I have one of those narcissistic stat tracker things and I totally see you, guy in Italy! Somehow I don't think I'm what they were looking for, but hey...I'll take what I can get. If I need to be the ass bunny queen to get people over here, then I'm willing to wear that title. Proudly.

In other "things-that-seem-like-porn-but-really-aren't-porn" news: I totally slapped myself in the face with a hot noodle.*

This would normally not be news except for the fact that it was ridiculously hot and half of my lip immediately blew up to about 3 times it's normal size. This would also not really be news except apparently I needed to teach myself a lesson or something...so about an hour later I went ahead and dropped a gazillion pound coffee table book** on my face. My lip cracked in half and started bleeding all over the place and I got all freaked out and fell back over a giant box of crap that I probably don't even need and hit my head on the wall and now half of my lip is a different color and all swollen and cartoony looking and part of my cheek is blue/green and I think I'm the only person I know who gets beat up by a cat and her own self in the same week. So...you know...if I picked a fight with you and you were thinking about fighting back...you should probably think again. I mean...if I can't even defend myself against me, you probably don't stand a chance (plus, I wouldn't hesitate to throw the cat at you. Not even for a second.) Actually, if I weren't halfway through my 32nd trimester right now, I'd seriously consider a career in UFC fighting or something.

Also, I told James that he wasn't the father of my imaginary baby and he was all, "So," and then I told him that I needed $599 so I could become a doctor and he was all, "Ok," which is total crap because who the hell wants to read about a guy that's all laid back and accommodating and nice all of the time? So now, as if I'm not stressed out enough with the pregnancy and all, I have to deal with him being all selfish and stuff.

Anyway, the baby is due in June or October or something so I'm going to start thinking really seriously about names...as soon as I inform the new father ...who is somebody really high up at the Orbit Gum company...who should probably start thinking about alimony or palimony or abalone or cryptozoolimony or whatever it is where you give me lots of Orbit Gum and a weekly allowance because you imaginarily knocked me up, you bastard.



P.S. If anyone is thinking of throwing me a baby shower, these cakes are totally creepy and totally inappropriate...make sure it's lemon flavored, please:







(via Cakewrecks )


*Trying to see if spaghetti noodles were done...they were.
**Trying to get something from the top shelf of the closet...something that wasn't there. Of course.

Read more...

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?


Read more...

If I move to New Orleans, please don't tell the cat where to find me.

I just came back from New Orleans and it's pretty clear that I either need to move there immediately or keep a second residence there. Unfortunately, James and I own a lot of stuff where we are so moving immediately probably isn't very realistic. The obvious solution is just keeping a second home there. This is going to require that I be insanely wealthy, of course, but no worries...I've got all of that figured out.

James and I are going to have an imaginary baby*. I've given this a lot of thought and I feel like it's time. When I talked to James about it, his eyes kind of glazed over and he mumbled something about having no part of this so he's totally on board. We're going to have lots of trials and tribulations and hilarious happenings with our imaginary baby, I will blog about these things, people will flock to my blog in droves, I will show this flock of people to advertisers and they will pay me a huge amount of money to place ads for cheeseburgers and tampons on my blog. I will start calling myself "Dr.Lola" and people will ask me for advice about their babies and I'll go on the talk show circuit and write a book. I'll eventually get my own show where advertisers will pay me even more money to show commercials about cheeseburgers and tampons and I will use this money to set up a college fund for my imaginary baby and also to have a house in New Orleans. I think it's a pretty good plan. Of course, I'm not a total idiot. I'm not putting all of my eggs in one basket just in case this doesn't go quite the way I'm hoping.

I'm also playing the lottery.

P.S. So, my dog has this pet cat and she won't let us get it de-clawed. Something about how cats need their claws and it might hurt and blah, blah, nonsense and blah. The problem is that we have a house that's just filled with really nice woodwork and my dog's stupid cat likes to smoke a bunch of weed (probably laced with PCP) and run around and hold medieval battles with doors and stair banisters and such. We tried to have an intervention, we threatened to put the cat up for adoption, we tried to cut off his drug supply...nothing worked. Our vet finally recommended these nail cap things called "happy paws" or "cute claws" or something else really misleading like that.



The directions say it's super easy, you just fill the little plastic nail cap with glue, press it on the nail for 5 seconds and voila! No more scratching.

Am I crazy or does "super easy" usually NOT involve extreme blood shed and heart palpitations? Also, they don't even provide you with any valium or a tranquilizer gun or stuff to clean up all of the blood or anything like that.

I don't mean to tell anyone how to do their job or anything but if you're going to include an illustration demonstrating how to use these things, you might want to consider adding this one:



You know...just so people know exactly what they're getting into.

*This post is in no way meant to offend real babies or people who actually have real babies. Unfortunately, no one will let me borrow their baby for the purpose of this blog and I don't really see me having my own real baby at any time in the near future, so I obviously had no choice except to have this imaginary baby. Also...it's a boy.

Read more...
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

About This Blog

Everything in this blog is copyright Jessica Benassi AKA Hey Lola except where I give credit to other people because obviously, that's their stuff. Don't steal my stuff. I mean, I'm not sure why you would want to, anyway, but if you're thinking about it...don't. Also, all of this nonsense is my opininion and is not supported or endorsed by Blogger or anyone ese. I mean, maybe it is, but if something I say just infuriates you, I take sole responsibility.

  © blog templates 3 column by blog templates 2008

Back to TOP