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    Defending a woman’s right to choose, one shirt at a time

    April 30, 2006

    Well I got my first cranky email about my “Definitely not having a silent birth” maternity tee over at babybrewing.  Rebecca from California writes, “Your Not having a silent birth is definitely NOT funny.”

    Oops.  I thought it was funny.  Apparently it is definitely NOT funny.  I have offended.  Derek and I began to discuss this ad nauseum.  Or I discussed it ad nauseum and Derek commented when he could get a word in edgewise.

    K:  I wasn’t trying to offend anyone.  Hey, Jen wanted me to make a tshirt that said “Silent Birth=Crui-azy.”  Now that would have been mean.
    D:  You are making fun of them.
    K:  I’m actually just exercising my constitutional right to free speech and free choice.  You know, a woman’s right to choose.  For those who “choose” not to have a silent birth.  Who won’t have L. Ron Hubbard telling them to keep their mouths shut while they attempt to pass a 15 1/2 inch head out of a hole the size of a sharpie pen. 

    I would just like to say that I officially passed the bar two days ago and it didn’t take me long to obtain the ability to talk OUT OF MY ASS at a moment’s notice.

    OK, so maybe I don’t actually believe that the constitution actually gives the right to choose, but that is besides the point. 

    I have thought about this all day.  Wondering why someone would take a joke so seriously.  Derek thought that Rebecca was Katie Holmes, in cognito.  I think she is still being silent (has it been 7 days yet?) and Dave thought that Rebecca was the legal counsel for the Church of Scientology. 

    Then I googled Rebecca.  Note to all you internetors out there.  If you are going to leave cranky emails, don’t use when you send the cranky email.  You are entitled to your opinion and you are entitled to share it with me (I believe I have already mentioned the constitution somewhere here).  But odds are pretty good that I am going to blog about it and it won’t be pretty.  And you’ll have to be patient with me, as I have not completed of Grade IV Expanded and the Happiness Rundown, as Rebecca has.  So in all my unenlightenedment, I apologize for making a joke that was not funny.  

    But here is the kicker.  I had a silent birth.  Not a Scientology-espoused silent birth, but I reached a point that I threatened to bring physical harm to anyone who broke my concentration.  In fact, my husband caught on really quick.  I think it had something to do with me saying, “Stop TALKING.”  And the fact that I was looking for an extremely sharp object with which to impale him.  But if he had told me before I had Ethan that I HAD to be silent, I can promise I would have screamed like a banshee from the first contraction on (that’s 28 hours of screaming, if you needed the math).  

    So I guess the joke is on me.  Sorry to offend. 

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    Hello, Internet, I PASSED THE BAR EXAM!!!

    April 28, 2006

    I am now qualified by the state to be a slimy attorney!!!  Wooohoooo!   Thank you so much for all of your kind thoughts and prayers.  I couldn’t have done it without them and you.

    Now go out and tell all your pregnant friends to buy shirts at

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    Sesame Street Challenged

    April 27, 2006

    In the height of my patheticism, I just realized that Mr. Nudo on Sesame Street is actually Mr. NOOOOODLE.  I would like to thank “B” for trying to tell me this 3 months ago even though I wouldn’t listen.

    K:  Hey, you know there is this funny guy now on Sesame Street named Mr. Nudo.
    B:  What are you talking about?
    K:  Mr. Nudo.  He does everything that Elmo tells him to do.  “Mr. NUUUUUDO.”
    B:  Do you know how disturbing it is that you sound exactly like Elmo?  Did we see this day coming?  And are you talking about Mr. Noodle?
    K:  I’ve never heard of Mr. Noodle.

    Yeah, his name is Mr. Noodle.  And I now talk like Elmo.  To think I used to know how to reassemble a .40 caliber handgun in under 8 seconds.  Sheesh.

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    Living like the better half does

    April 26, 2006

    We are on a little va-ca.  Someone at Derek’s work wanted to off-load their timeshare in Williamsburg and let’s be honest, it’s not like I am doing anything at home. 

    When we showed up to our collosal living space, we were pleasantly surprised to find a 25 person jacuzzi bath tub in the bathroom.  With mirrors on every wall.  I wonder what made them stop before the ceiling. 

    Anyway, I waxed on to E about the wonders of the wealthy as it relates to jacuzzi bathtubs.

    K:  Buddy, if Dad had kept his other job and Mom would get her lazy ass back to work, we could live in a house that had a big bathtub like this one.
    E:  THIS!!

    I just wanted to put him in the jacuzzi because I figured it was a pretty low maintenance way to get him clean.  You stick him in the middle, turn the jets on, throw a little J&J baby shampoo in and he’s bound to get the baby funk off.  It’s not my job to clean him at night and frankly I’m a little shoddy at it normally.  There was the incident with the floating poo, so his father really doesn’t leave me alone with the boy during bathtime anymore. 

    He wasn’t very interested in the jacuzzi however.  I waited until the obligatory water minimum line.  OK, so maybe I started the jets a little early.  It looked like an inch above to me.  What if a man was determining the minimum water level?  Is it really rocket science.

    As I powered it up, water shot out two of the jets and hit the ceiling like two high-powered fire hoses.  The baby started to wail hysterically and I lunged for the power switch.  There was water everywhere.  An inch deep in the bathroom.

    I guess the better half knows to point the jets DOWN in the jacuzzi if you aren’t going to fill it to the top with 50 gallons of water.  Oops?

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    The moment you realize that the cat is out of the bag

    April 23, 2006

    My sister called to discuss my web design issues with Baby Brewing and it didn’t take her long to ask me what was wrong.  I mentioned that I was drunk and she brought it to my attention that it was 2:30 in the afternoon.  I said that my in-laws were in town and that I had been drunk since dinner last night.

    I would like to clarify that I was drinking WITH my in-laws and not BECAUSE of my in-laws.  No really. 

    They have excellent taste in vino (except for when my mother-in-law adds water and ice to it, which actually makes my father-in-law apoplectic), and someone (read “Derek”) had been cracking those bad boys open as fast as he could last night.  This doesn’t explain being drunk today, but whatever.

    So I relayed this conversation I had with my sister to my in-laws.  And out came a jaw-dropper from my mother-in-law…

    MIL:  Oh dear, this isn’t going to look good on the blog tomorrow.

    Blog?  What blog?  Who has a blog?  Better yet, who told Nana I had a blog? 

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    All good things must come to an end

    Just kidding.

    I’m moving on. To bigger and better things. If you have wondered where I have been for the last week, I decided a week ago to start a business. You can find it a Too bad none of you readers are pregnant. But if you know any pregnant people, send them my way. As for the blog, I’m at Because Mommy really needs a cocktail…

    Here’s one of my shirts. I hear Katie is ready to lose all of her fake pregnancy weight now.

    If you could HASU (hook a sista’ up), please link Baby Brewing on your blog pages. Every link helps put me on the Google map. As soon as I rob a bank, I’ll start making blogging t-shirts for all those of you who are smart enough to NOT be pregnant. Lots of love and hope to see you over a Leave lots of comments so people get the wrong impression–that I am actually readable.

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