Kimmy: Pregnant AND classy!
I just drove a 9-hour trip home from FL with the following in my truck: A diaper Genie (no, there is not a magic lamp included — believe me, I asked), half a homemade pound-cake (love/thanks to mom), a wildly pregnant* best friend, Publix chicken drumettes (that poor Lizzy-the-wonder-dog spent some serious time in trying to track down after I buried them under a pile of luggage and a small statue), approximately 10,000 baby outfits**, a Transformers bag that was bafflingly used to present a baby present in, Pee-Pee Teepees, 8 lbs of food forced upon us by my ever-worrying mother, a large knife (in the mommy-to-be’s purse, to fucking cut anyone who messed with us, I assume) and a Colt .45 GUN. That’s when you know when you’re travelling in the South — when you are carrying equal amounts of Food, Baby Things and WEAPONRY.
Other ways to tell you’re making a Southern road trip? The guy who serves you at Taco Bell will freak the fuck out*** when your order comes to $16.66 — loudly proclaiming: “Lordy! I just rang up the devil’s number!” And who was still bemoaning his poor luck with the Prince of Darkness when we left, Apocalyptic Food in hand, 15 minutes later. Because, you know, here, the cash registers will fucking eat your soul.
Also, you just might make the poor decision to stop for gas and a restroom. You are, after all, travelling with a heavily pregnant woman (who, for the record, only WANTED to stop 3 times the whole trip…. wonder why…). But when you follow the blue, State-placed exit sign that clearly reads, “FOOD GAS AHEAD” you are instead suddenly plummeted into a dark place of banjos, despair and a ramshackle bait shop that sold its last tank of gas in 19-dickity-2. Mom-to-Be was sure there would be a crusty old hobo just standing in a field, all a’ready for a fresh raping, holding a gas can and a cardboard sign, “Gas!”
Besides the near-misses with both Lucifer and a good old-fashioned hate fucking, though, the baby shower itself was perfectly nice. I always enjoy staying at my folks’ house, and there was a really good moment there when it was Friday night, 88 degrees, and all I had to do was sit in the pool, wait for sunset and drink my peach vodka soda. Whatever else I may loathe about the Sunshine State, there will always be the good points, too, I grudgingly admit.
* The little bastard has already managed to kick me. While I am rather honored that I’m one of the first people he’s made physical contact with, I still can’t wait to get him back. Perhaps I will do this by coming up with an effiminate nickname? Or maybe I’ll just let him eat whatever the dogs drop inevitably into his crib…
** Given to us by family members who informed poor Kimmy that a) her dogs will eat her baby, b) circumsicion is not only mandatory, but will be inflicted per force if she does not give up her hippy-ass ideas of leaving the baby’s innocent wee foreskin the hell alone and c) that she should probably start dressing better if she doesn’t want her husband to leave her. Yes. I know — Kimmy SHOULD totally have her own blog.
*** No, weirdly, he did not freak out that we ordered almost $17 worth of Taco Bell, which was FUCKING DELICIOUS, by the way.
I totally have no idea how I originally came across your blog but I’ve been faithfully following ever since. Just wanted to tell you this post made me snarf my coffee. Twice.
Well thanks, my new snarftastic interweb friend. I will be sure to check out your blog later today!
I can’t begin to tell you on how many levels I relate to this particular post, right down to the pee pee tee-pees!
The most hilarious thing about those teepees were the INSTRUCTIONS! “Hold baby’s legs at 90 degree angle and place pee pee teepee on wee wee.”
Glad to hear you had a good time. BTW the mommy to be is adorable!!!
Aw, she really is. I will have to post real pics of kimmy and co. when the little man gets here.
OMG! WTF did you do to Kimmy??!!?
OMG How could you not come to the baby shower? We needed a healthy dose of Ali — you were missed.
I guess because I wasn’t invited?
Uh, you totally were. I sent you an invite about 4 weeks ago. It was mom’s phone number on the RSVP. When we got there, she said she was surprised she hadn’t heard from you.
I never got it. We’re currently at war with the USPS…