(Content Alert: This section contains explicit humor and adult themes (e.g., crude jokes, innuendo). Suitable for 18+ only.)
4/14/18
Yo,
I woke up this morning to my pregnant wife informing me of her plans to set up a nursery for our imminent child.
“I’m fine with doing all this,” I told her… “but ‘nursery’ is a dumb word and I refuse to call it that… from now on it’s a “baby hole.”
Unfocused Assessments…
-So we just spent 20 minutes talking about changing tables.
Do you have ANY idea what a “changing table” is for?
It is furniture specially built… for wiping tiny little assholes.
Apparently, these kids just crap all over themselves.
Constantly.
My wife and I were forced to discuss nuances for these shitty little butt wipe platforms.
“Will there be enough storage space??”
It’s not enough that we wipe their little butt holes… we also have to administer various creams and ointments.
And when slathering cream on a tiny little asshole, you need quick and easy access.
-We also need a chair for the nursery where my wife can breastfeed.
For those that are unaware… breastfeeding is when a baby sucks milk…. out of your wife’s tits.
The world is such a weird place.
-My wife says I am in charge of a nursery chair, but she will do everything else.
She ordered a crib, rug, dresser, bookshelf, stroller, high chair and all kinds of other crap.
Later she comes in and gives me an update on all her progress.
She then asked me how the chair search was going.
After hearing my answer she said, “Do you want me to find a chair?”
“Yes,” I replied.
-“I have a zany idea,” I told her… “Let’s not measure ANYTHING.”
When all this crap is delivered it will be like playing Tetris.
Tetris was a fun game.
-I keep telling my wife that our baby will be color blind like me and as a result none of the nursery room furniture needs to match.
-We live in a shithole condominium, and my wife is shopping for rugs for the nursery.
I told her to order a rug that covers the entire house.
-Pottery Barn is for assholes.
-Just plain old pottery in general is for assholes.
–Pottery……… I mean WTF.
-My wife keeps showing me cute little pics of baby feet and hands.
I’ve discovered that the sentimental prospects of parenthood don’t appeal to me as much as certain other aspects.
For example…
…I’m really looking forward to the spankings.
-Why the F does measuring for hypothetical nursery furniture lead to a guaranteed argument?? It’s not like one of us committed infidelity or jacked off on the nice towels.
-When we took a break, my wife wanted to pluck my eyebrows.
I reluctantly agreed.
She came back into the bedroom with tweezers and damp toilet paper.
I was lying on our bed.
I had a book on the nightstand, and she set the damp toilet paper on it.
Here are some things we said to each other in the ensuing 7 minutes:
Me – “Hey take that toilet paper off my book!”
Wife – “Who cares it’s not doing anything.”
Me – “Take it off!”
Wife – “Calm down, I set it on the dry side. It’s not like I ran it under water or dunked it in the toilet.”
Me – “I’ll dunk you in the toilet!”
Wife – “Prop your head up!”
Me – “It hurts my neck!”
Wife – “Quit making that face!”
Wife – “Did your mom ever take you to get your eyes waxed? Like in high school?
Me – “Are you shitting me?”
Wife – “Lots of guys would feel very lucky if their wives did this.
Me – “I don’t want to do the right eyebrow… just the left is fine.”
Wife – “Why are you complaining so much?? Women do this all the time”…
Me – “Women are idiots.”
Wife – “Let me wipe off your forehead!”
Me – “Ugh… Just leave it”
Me – “I can’t lean that way… I have bad elbows!!!”
Me – “That’s all folks!”
-My friend says that the hospital asks you to approve an “order of operations” in the seconds after the baby is born. He chose, “hand the child directly to mother.”
Apparently, doctor took those instructions literally and never wiped down the baby.
…Mommy was handed a bloody baby.
He said afterwards she had baby blood smeared on her face.
Bloody baby goo on your wife’s face? Are you serious?
“Yes, doctor…” I would like to order the, “Wipe the bloody little fucker down option please.”
-When all of the stuff arrived and I had dragged everything inside I decided to take a little inventory… this unborn child has FOUR (4) beds!
-My wife just informed me she is craving Cream of Wheat.
“No you aren’t,” I said.
-I now have a bunch of Crate and Barrel gift certificates because I returned like half of our wedding gifts. The gift certificates are basically worthless. A nursery chair is a thousand bucks. An ottoman … aka a fucking foot rest … $600.
Me: “Yes I’ll take the combined chair and ottoman pack for one thousand.”
Crate and Barrel asshole: “We don’t have that sir.”
Me: “Yes you do. I’ll buy the chair and then flip the box upside down and put my feet on that.”
-Crate and Barrel is also for assholes.
-My wife was congratulating herself for being very practical with the shopping. All in, she spent a lot, but I’m told it can be much worse.
At the end of the day everything looked great… she did a wonderful job.
Even a cold-hearted cynic like me must admit…
That is one beautiful baby hole.
Quackenbush