This week's recap:
Lea goes into the hospital Sunday.
We stay home Monday to recover and visit her Doctor. She's fine.
I get sick Tuesday from bad Chinese food. Let me rephrase. I vomit at work, go home, vomit some more, then vow to never again consume sweet and sour chicken and/or start feeling the overwhelming desire to burn the restaurant down in retaliation.
Wednesday I feel fine again. But Lea's up all night with ear pain.
Thursday Lea misses school, Motrin solves the problem.
Friday I wake up feeling like God punched me in the ovaries in the middle of the night, 5 days early.
In retrospect I should have just laughed at my OB when he asked about the tubal ligation. Like, really? Just "tying things up"? Why fuck not just pull it out like those multi-colored handkerchiefs hack magicians pull out of their sleeves, only at the end it would be, you know, my inner lady parts instead of a rabbit or butterflies or something else gay. Granted it's much bloodier and I have no idea how that would fit up a sleeve but I think it would generate the same amount of applause. I'd give it a standing ovation (see what I did there? Ovaries, ovation... Fuck people, C'mon!). Basically, what I'm trying to say is I'M NOT HAVING MORE KIDS WHY IN THE BLUE HELL SHOULD I STILL SUFFER EVERY MONTH?
Not cool, God. Really? 5 days early? Way to be Mr. Efficient.
Is this because I called you the Lorf Jebus in an e-mail yesterday because I both mistyped and made a joke out of it? 'Cause that shit was funny. If you can't take a joke then what the fuck is up with the platypus?
I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but self soothing with just sugar-free red bull and twizzler bits doesn't work in this scenario. Unless you get to throw it at people.
I think it's safe to say I'm not fit for humans nor should I be allowed to use my debit card today.
Shit. Look out... the Red Bull is gone.