Mommy Wants Vodka

…Or A Mail-Order Bride

Cry Baby.


Dear All Of My Neighbors,

Sorry that I don’t remember all of your names. See, I have this new baby who has somehow sucked every ounce of memory that I have into oblivion.

Oh, so you knew about the baby, did you? Right, right, right. You’ve seen me through the windows. I am sorry about all of the walking around I now do without my shirt on, my granny nursing bra (sexxy, I know) jutting out in front of me like gigantic two milk-filled missiles. But you see here, Neighbors Of Mine, I don’t have much of a choice now. I have this baby who thinks he needs to be constantly attached to my chesticles and nothing, I repeat NOTHING I can do dissuades him.

See, I’m actually considering what I’m doing as a PSA, well, without the announcement part, because I am aware that all of you with houses that surround mine have teenage boys. And if they see what happens when girls have babies, they’ll never give the love without a glove.

Breast Wishes (hehehe),
Your Neighbor With The Knockers

PS. Be grateful that I wear a bra. Have you SEEN those ‘natural’ childbirth books? Those women are ALWAYS topless. AND they rock the full bush.


Dear Makers of Breast Pads,

I’m sending my complaining neighbors to you.

You see here, Breast Pad Manufactures, I cannot use you, despite my actual need for Leakage Control, as every time my baby weeps (i.e the 4.5 seconds/day that I unjustly put him down). Nowhere, and I do mean nowhere on your chipper packaging, complete with serene looking woman holding baby (which I must add, is obviously staged, as no new mother has clear bloodshot free eyes without bags around them. Unless they had a wet nurse or something, and if they did, why would they be buying breast pads?) does it mention the what your pads are made of.

Latex. That’s what’s in them.

Want to know how I know? I got a huge rash all over my freshly milk-filled funbags. It looked as though my breasts had come down with a nasty case of herpes, which at 2 days postpartum is _so_not_appreciated.

Because I was ‘desperate’ and ‘a glutton for punishment’ I tried another brand. Same goddamn symptoms: my breasts felt like they were on fire so I itched the skin clear off of them. It was totally awesome.

By awesome, I mean sucky.

So in addition to adding ‘contains latex’ to your packaging, I am imploring you to please write a letter of apology to my neighbors, who can now clearly see the sweet-ass milk stains and perpetua-hard nipples that otherwise would have been obscured by your product.

VD-Free Since 2003 (and Counting!!!),

Red Boobies Are Not Sexxy


Dear Stomach Flu,

Fuck You.


Cleaning Barf Out Of The Darnedest of Places


Dear Nat,

I am so totally confused.

How did you manage to lose Ben’s shoes?

Seriously, wasn’t he WEARING them?


Taking Responsibility Where You Won’t

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