My Dearest Wish

My dearest wish for the day is that when my readers visited this post, they did not see this:

It’s not a video. Don’t try to click on it.

My second wish is that it is a sponsored ad, not a targeted. I’m not sure how they made the connection between my collection of adorable baby tortoise videos and a, shall we say, very personal problem.

Or maybe they assume that anyone using Youtube is at risk for contracting an STD? All I can say is that would be quite the unfortunate computer virus. Anyone know if Norton’s anti-virus checks for public health risks?

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

Nearly wordless because, frankly, I have no words. It all has to do with the “proper” way of producing one of these:

So precious! How did it get here? There's only one right way, you know. If that's not how this one got here I suggest you send it back. Because you are a failure. Go sell some Pampered Chef instead.

There’s a link on Youtube. Look it up if you have to. It’s kind of boring, more than a little stupid. Mostly an old guy talking about why this should be the norm. Today we’re talking (or rather, not talking) about the latest celebrity trend in childbirth: orgasmic birth.

I suppose it’s possible. Like becoming a millionaire working only 5 hours a week selling Pampered Chef. A few try it.  Most end up disillusioned and bitter, with a drawer full of spatulas.

              ***Spoiler Alert***

 If no one else will say it, I will.  While giving birth, you are more likely to achieve a big brown than a big O. Set your sights on a more realistic goal. Like paying off the National Debt with Green Stamps.

And that’s all I have to say on the subject.