Today’s Pickle on the Giant Crap Sandwich, that is my life Rant,
Is proudly brought to you by the delightful news that I am not pregnant, thanks a bunch for asking.
This morning I was interviewed by Radio Adelaide Breakfast, about blogging, which was a fantastic excuse to wake early and get a whole heap of things done today... well that was the plan, because this morning I woke up with an upset stomach.
In a pathetic attempt to control my nausea, I forwent my morning coffee, which is a bad idea if you must remain vigilant and answer questions on morning radio, but a good idea if you are answering morning radio questions whilst willing your body to keep the vomit down for at least another seven minutes.
So like a champion (Martyr)…I answered serious blogging questions, and the whole while, my mouth was doing that awful watery thing and my face flushed with rounds of nausea.
Now before you start, No I’m not pregnant. I’m not even nearly pregnant and I have no plans to ever be pregnant ever again in this lifetime.
Have you ever noticed that you cannot vocalise any feeling of stomach upset, (heaven forbid you utter those words in the morning of all times) if you are a woman of child bearing age, without being accused of being with child?
“Blech I feel shite in the guts”…..”You aren’t pregnant are you?”
It’s the standard response.
I was asked this question, several times by 10am this morning, from my Best friend, my mother and the most surprising of these... Cabbage, he asked me with a genuinely alarmed facial expression.
I questioned him as to if he actually remembered how pregnancy occured… and clearly he would be the first to know, should there be any slim chance.
So No. Go fuck yourself.
I went on to explain that I most likely picked up a bit of Ebola from scrubbing the bathroom floor, and specifically, the target range around the toilet area.
In fact… The more piss dribble/spray/however the fuck it ends up on the floor that I clean up, the chances of me falling pregnant drop significantly. Resentment will do that to you.
I assure you that I didnt clean the toilet with my bare hands and then go eat a sandwich.. But I can quite confidently state, that I have more of a chance catching Ebola from my family toilet than I do of being pregnant right now. Especially since the last person I was pregnant with, evacuated my uterus, but is yet to leave my bed… some three years later.
Add to that resentment, cough* (didn’t follow through... *relieved high five!*)
Add to that resentment,……Cabbage………Walking passed me, whilst I was quite clearly making a subtle hint, by positioning myself to dramatically sprawled over the lounge, eyes shut, fantasising about collapsing into bed. Ms three jamming littlest pet shops under my eyelids, and asking to go out the back…..
Walked on passed he did, to announce that he was off to work.
In which he is the boss.
And answers to NO ONE, about having a sick day….
AND WAIT!!! In case the nausea and general disregard to my feeling ill, failed in getting me to hurl….. This announcement was made, JUST as Catriona fucking Roundtree begins an Ad on TV with “Us Mums don’t get sick days” in her peppiest voice... and me not even being able to roll my eyes, for fear the loss of balance would make me throw up..… and with that!
*Insert maniacal hysterical laughter*
With that, my friends…… the chances of me ever getting pregnant, ever again drop to virtually zero, with a 0.0000001 precent chance reserved only for Immaculate Conception, or Mathew McConaughey turning up on my doorstep, Or David Boreanaz getting himself lost and finding his way into my bath.
Meanwhile, I am now feeling a little better and have even summonsed the energy to write an actual post for today as opposed to a rerun, which I had to resort to earlier..
So things are looking up.