What? Me? Hostile?

More and more, I am starting to see why pregnant women should not be allowed out into the world (at least during their first trimester). As I have said, no one at work is yet aware that I have “a bun in the oven” (read: a really pissed off alien inhabiting my abdomen) so they are not aware of the dangers they face if they continue to cross me. If you are not a pregnant woman, heed this warning:




Seriously. She will follow you to your home and set fire to your bed. This is not a joke.


Between the intense hunger, (seriously ladies, before your pregnancy, were you ever so hungry that you would steal food from small children or the elderly? Because I am not above it at this point. Hunger HURTS.) the mood-swings (I think I covered those here ) and the extreme vomiting (spontaneous extreme vomiting, of course. New X-Games sport? Thoughts?), how can a girl be expected to deal with stupid people all day? People whose heads are not pounding? People who aren’t gaining 17 lbs per week?  (This is, luckily, not actually happening, but it feels like it is. I exaggerate. Sue me.)


I, for one, cannot be expected to be nice to people at work. I can barely be expected to be nice at home, where the love of my life and my de-lovely cat reside. The other day, I was watching The Real World (guilty pleasure, I can’t help it) and I actually envisioned myself stabbing one of the cast-members in the neck. With a screwdriver. Yes, it was that specific. And I ask myself, “is it really worth it to watch a television show that causes violent fantasies surrounding narrow-minded, barely-pubescent imbiciles?”


I have decided that my answer is unequivocally yes.


Because fantacizing about killing narrow-minded, barely pubescent imbiciles, keeps me from murdering coworkers and loved ones.


One thought on “What? Me? Hostile?

  1. And so it becomes clear why my pregnancy quiz appealed to you so much. Being male (wait, let me check…yup, still there), I can only experience the uh, joy of gestation through my wife (we’re about to have our fifth). I dimly recalled blogging about his before, and your post reminded me of the “grill marks” anecdote: http://wp.me/pSXPz-4G (Back from August 2010, according to WordPress).
    It ends, eventually. At least that’s what my mother said.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s