Bad things about pregnancy, bad things about bad people
This post contains toilet humor and may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion is advised.
Pregnancy really sucks sometimes. People only tell you about the symptoms that aren't embarrassing. So I'm here to tell you about the embarrassing ones, because I'm Real like that.
Let's start with indigestion. I can open my mouth to speak, and accidentally burp. That's not pleasant. It's disgusting. It's probably more disgusting for the person I'm speaking to than it is for me.
But not as disgusting as the God-awful gas. It's nonstop, and it doesn't matter what I eat. Sometimes it's the painful kind. Last night, I was doubled over in pain. I swore I was cramping and that something unthinkable was about to happen, but then I, uh, expelled the culprit and harmony was restored in my bowels. Temporarily.
Constipation. You fart until you think you're about to shit your pants, then you can't squeeze anything out. It's lovely. Really. Maybe the pushing is meant to prepare me for the childbirth experience. When we were kids, my friend Snookie and I referred to taking a crap as "Giving birth to a brown baby boy." I don't think we realized how racist that may be. Comparing a brown baby to a turd. But you get the point. Our vulgar little hearts were in a different place than that.
The acne does seem to have backed off considerably, and I have a little bit more energy. I'm not as moody, though my tear ducts are still working some overtime on occasion. My patience is still short with the kids at school, but has improved. Right now I'm not inclined to think it's me. It's alllll them.
Did I tell you that one of the students went to a teacher's house, knocked on her door, and attacked her with a wrench or a screwdriver when she answered it? Remember that fight that I said happened last week? He was in that fight, and apparently got beat up a little. He went over to the kid's house to get his revenge. His mother, who happens to be the basketball coach at the high school, opened the door. He asked for the kid, she told him to leave, and he pushed his way inside and beat the hell out of her. She's got a bunch of staples in her head but she's going to be okay, and he's been charged with aggravated assault. He's not one of my students and I can't picture his face even though I've heard his name many times.
Kids these days. Hitting their teachers in the head with heavy objects. Little rascals. Let one of the little fuckers come to my door. I got something for 'em.
Honestly, as rambunctious as my students are, I don't think I have any that are capable of doing something like that. I could be horribly wrong-- I mean, a parent did try to poison me. But I can't picture any of my students wielding a wrench or other object intended to bash my head in. They would rather kill me slowly by working my blood pressure up until I stroke out. Once they've got me partially paralyzed, the real fun will begin.
Pregnancy really sucks sometimes. People only tell you about the symptoms that aren't embarrassing. So I'm here to tell you about the embarrassing ones, because I'm Real like that.
Let's start with indigestion. I can open my mouth to speak, and accidentally burp. That's not pleasant. It's disgusting. It's probably more disgusting for the person I'm speaking to than it is for me.
But not as disgusting as the God-awful gas. It's nonstop, and it doesn't matter what I eat. Sometimes it's the painful kind. Last night, I was doubled over in pain. I swore I was cramping and that something unthinkable was about to happen, but then I, uh, expelled the culprit and harmony was restored in my bowels. Temporarily.
Constipation. You fart until you think you're about to shit your pants, then you can't squeeze anything out. It's lovely. Really. Maybe the pushing is meant to prepare me for the childbirth experience. When we were kids, my friend Snookie and I referred to taking a crap as "Giving birth to a brown baby boy." I don't think we realized how racist that may be. Comparing a brown baby to a turd. But you get the point. Our vulgar little hearts were in a different place than that.
The acne does seem to have backed off considerably, and I have a little bit more energy. I'm not as moody, though my tear ducts are still working some overtime on occasion. My patience is still short with the kids at school, but has improved. Right now I'm not inclined to think it's me. It's alllll them.
Did I tell you that one of the students went to a teacher's house, knocked on her door, and attacked her with a wrench or a screwdriver when she answered it? Remember that fight that I said happened last week? He was in that fight, and apparently got beat up a little. He went over to the kid's house to get his revenge. His mother, who happens to be the basketball coach at the high school, opened the door. He asked for the kid, she told him to leave, and he pushed his way inside and beat the hell out of her. She's got a bunch of staples in her head but she's going to be okay, and he's been charged with aggravated assault. He's not one of my students and I can't picture his face even though I've heard his name many times.
Kids these days. Hitting their teachers in the head with heavy objects. Little rascals. Let one of the little fuckers come to my door. I got something for 'em.
Honestly, as rambunctious as my students are, I don't think I have any that are capable of doing something like that. I could be horribly wrong-- I mean, a parent did try to poison me. But I can't picture any of my students wielding a wrench or other object intended to bash my head in. They would rather kill me slowly by working my blood pressure up until I stroke out. Once they've got me partially paralyzed, the real fun will begin.
