Tag Archives: babies

Creepin’


I be creepin’….

I feel like this is or could be the title to a great hit song.

In this day and age, you ain’t nobody unless you been creeped on by some random acquaintance on Facebook.

Which means: I just made at least six people Somebody.

I promise when I sat down at my computer, it was with the only intention of writing at least three hard-to-come-by paragraphs for my novel that will be finished in about ten years. Only, I signed in to Facebook, and after clicking on several alluring ads for $17 dresses, I decided to see what my not-so-close virtual friends looked like before I knew them, or after I knew them, and what their dogs look like, and let’s not forget all those annoying Facebook babies. This is what I found out.

Some people should go back to their natural brunette hair color. (I am aware that I may be one of these “some people”.)

Some people look just a little bit better than they did last year.

Some other people looked a lot better last year.

There are just way too many damn infants on Facebook. Apparently the entire population of Minnesota and some of Wisconsin have nothing better to do than fuck like rabbits nonstop.

All of Facebook is nothing but a ruse. I once thought all those people posting pictures actually DID stuff. Now I realize they are just taking pictures nonstop of themselves in their very ordinary lives. Well, guess what, people?! I can do that too!

There are very few people who actually throw interesting-looking weddings. I’ve decided if ever I have another wedding, there will be mermaids, belly-dancers, a unicorn, a rodeo clown, and at least two pirates. (Preferably the Johnny Depp kind, not the Somali variety.)

I realize that people are probably starting to get tired of seeing me post a daily pic of my new puppy. Because I am most certainly getting tired of seeing pics of their babies.

Some people should most definitely not start their own Youtube channel, because nobody really cares where some people come from.

Damn, I’m harsh tonight. Sorry.

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Torturing the Defenseless With Inedible Edibles


Ahoy, maties!

No, I have not turned Pirate during my long hiatus away from blogging. (Although, I think it would be really romantic to become a pirate…) I have decided that since I now have more blog followers than blog posts, it is my duty to once again take up my.. um.. keyboard, and defend you all against… utter and definite boredom. (OK, I probably should have thought that out a bit better, but whatever.)

To be honest, I’ve been busy boxing up my some 5,000 books (and my considerable though not quite as impressive shoe collection) for the big move to our new and not-yet-Sparkled-out house. Also, I have been accepted into the employ of a somewhat local grocery store- an adventure of which I will divulge a bit of right now.

 My official title I suppose would be considered “Overnight Stocker”. Now is the time for the perfunctory congrats you all have for me. I must admit at this time that, although it is not a book store job, I can honestly admit it is the best job I have ever had- namely, because I spend the night surrounded by almost nobody except my thoughts, and am required to greet and smile at customers minimally. (The latter alone makes having a fucked up sleep schedule completely worth it.)

Another reason this job is of such great interest to me is the fact that, until you spend eight hours straight in a grocery store, you are perhaps unaware of the plethora of fascinating and completely disgusting food items such places possess. I actually found kraut juice the other day. :o— (This is me vomiting just a little bit upon this discovery.)

I was in the baby food aisle last night, where I was required to stock a case of baby-friendly smoothies. This may not seem terrible at first, until I tell you that said smoothies were SPINACH, apple, and peach flavored. WHAT THE FUCK?! Are we now trying to get our infants to emulate Popeye, to grow big and beefy, by mixing a completely normal mixture of healthy fruits with spinach?! Not to be dissuaded, I continued on to the next case, only to be once again appalled by its contents. I have one question for any adults out there- would YOU eat blended apples and chicken? Not I, said the Sparkle.

I began investigating the shelves further. There, next to the quite-stylish re-useable Captain America grocery bag for 99 cents, were tiny jars of sweet potatoes with peaches, and itty-bitty meat sticks in water. Hot Dog Flavored Water, indeed.

Are we forcing the youngest of our species to graze on such abominations because once they are old enough to talk, they are coherent enough to deny such tortures? Why, oh why, would anyone buy a fruit food processed together with spinach for their littlest loved one? I’m all for trying new foods, but seriously, give the kid a chance to develop a normal palate before broadening his horizons!

I guess that’s all I have to say about that.

 

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Filed under Children, Food, Humor, Life, Uncategorized, Work

Saying The Things You Shouldn’t Say


I’ve been accused more than once of being unedited. Hell, I’ve even been fired from a job for writing the things I was thinking in my head. Sometimes, I just get really tired of people not saying what they’re thinking, so I will be the one. Sadly, by the end of this post, I may come off as a huge bitch. But sometimes a long bout of holding in what I’m actually thinking results in a bad case of virtual verbal diarrhea.

People be having some UGLY babies- Am I the only one who thinks all these babies people are having on Facebook aren’t as cute as they should be? Let me be clear- the premature ones don’t count, because they just wanted to hop outta the oven before it was time. I’m talking about all the other ones. And when people keep commenting, “Oh, I’m so happy for you, your baby is adorable!” and “What a cutie!”, I just want to comment too (in a Spanish accent, of course), and say, “You keep using those words. I do not think they mean what you think they mean.” I know people don’t have control over what their kid looks like, but GEEZ, I don’t think I want one if the majority of them look like Gollum.

If you’re completely miserable with your spouse, or boyfriend/girlfriend, be done with them- This may seem harsh, and if you have children with this person, it’s a bit harder situation to get out of, but no amount of drinking or bickering or pretending is going to do any good for your kids. Yes, marriage is supposed to be a life-long commitment, but there are just some people who were silly enough to marry someone they didn’t like very much, with the idea, “Hey, it’s ok. I’ll just go out with my friends a lot and drink to drown the fact that my wife/ husband is a complete bitch/ asshole.”  Well, enjoy your perfectly pretended life. As for you all who are not married to your asshole, dump him/her immediately. And no, I am not going to be the person to make your life better with amazing sex, because I am smart enough to be with someone who does NOT annoy the shit outta me.

That chic shouldn’t be wearing that/ or SHOULD be wearing that- sometimes people shouldn’t clothe themselves the way they do. Yes, I’ve preached tirelessly about fat people in stretchy pants, but I am also including here the sermon about skinny girls with love handles who continuously wear low-rise jeans. Just ’cause you ain’t got no cushion for the pushin’ don’t mean that you’re toned. As evidenced by the cellulite once sported by my size 00 ex-sister-in-law. And Miley, put some damn clothes on, already. Yes, we get it. You’re edgy and controversial. Or suffering from multiple drug addictions.

Kids are sometimes not your entire world- I realize that since I have borne no offspring from my loins, I cannot fully understand how a child changes you and makes you devote your entire being to them; however, I have known enough people who have little to no patience for their humanoid cubs, and would rather be out partying with their friends. I know that no parent is suppose to come out and say, “I’d like a day off”, but I urge each and every one of you to realize that it’s ok to admit parenting is at times a trying and monotonous task, and is sometimes best replaced with a stripper pole and a shot of whisky. This doesn’t mean you love your children any less, it just means you have not joined the Stepford community.

Why don’t we let educated people into America?- I realize Lady Liberty is all about giving refuge to the starving and the destitute, but wouldn’t our country benefit a little by letting in someone who is not hungry and can actually support themselves? Instead of giving a bunch of monetary support to people who don’t even bother to learn our language, why don’t we give free visas to people who ALREADY know our language and have their own money? I’m not being prejudiced. The uneducated are welcome too, but they should be given the same opportunity as I- that is, the opportunity of working more than one job just to make sure I don’t have to move to Florida in order to sleep outside and not freeze to death because I am homeless.

 

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Untitled


She spent the day with her mother.

They did the things mothers and daughters do- window shopping, dining out and the like. As they were lunching on skinny fries and cobb salads, the girl almost dropped her fork when a small child of another patron nearby let out a ferocious shriek. That got her mother talking even more.

“So your cousin is planning to marry that dimwit girl even though she quit her job. I wonder how happy he’s going to be working three jobs when she’s sitting at home popping out babies?” The older woman tsk-ed once or twice before taking another bite of her salad.

“Well, he must know how pampered she is, Mom. They’ve been together since high school.” The girl tried to steer her mother away from baby talk.

” I just hate to think they’re going to have a bunch of babies when they haven’t thought about how they’re going to afford them. And that’s another thing that irks me, most of those kids at school where I teach have such horrible parents that care more about they’re dumb dogs than they do about they’re kids!” The girl hid her amusement at the fact that her mother still refused to use the word “damn” in front of her daughter, even though she was going to be thirty-two in two months.

“Yeah, well, isn’t that the way of it? All the people who shouldn’t have kids have whole herds of them when the ones that want them can’t have any.” The girl refrained from adding “including me” to the end of that sentence. She didn’t have the energy to get into that conversation today.

Her mom had a few more choice words on the subject before bouncing to another topic three or four more times before dessert came.

After her mom dropped her off, the girl walked slowly up the stairs to her apartment, the depression of the days outing weighing heavily on her heart. She couldn’t ignore the tiny tutus in the baby section of the department store earlier, or what seemed like the constant flow of new mothers with strollers who had sped by all day. She took out her keys, and let out a wavering sigh as she opened the door.

Her boyfriend was in a surprisingly good mood after having worked with morons all day, and was excited to show her the new guitar he’d found listed on Craigslist. She couldn’t help but think that the baby blue of the Gibson’s body would be the perfect color for a newborn’s nursery. After awhile, the two sat down to finish watching the last few episodes of a show they’d been watching on Netflix.

The girl was momentarily distracted from her misery as they watched the young love blossom of the two main characters on the TV screen, until the heroine’s sister decided that was the perfect time to go into labor. The girl clutched her pillow and unsuccessfully pushed back tears while the woman onscreen gave birth to a flawless baby girl, as the fictional family looked on proudly. The girl had had enough.

She had a lovely life- a job that paid her bills, a friend or two who were always there for her, a boyfriend whom she loved and loved her back, and yet she felt she hadn’t a thing in the world. She tried to push away the thought of the children she didn’t have as she slid down to her knees and slipped her lover’s boxers off before taking him in her mouth. She thought to herself before she lost herself in foreplay- She may as well play the part of a useless slut, since her body was never going to be used for a good purpose.

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Filed under Beauty, Children, Family, fiction, Life, Love, Sex, short story, Uncategorized

I Hope Your Baby Looks Like Steve Buscemi


Dear former Fuck Buddy of Mine,

Let me be the first thirty-first (according to Facebook) to offer my congratulations on the presence of the conjoined egg-and-sperm in your wife’s belly.

While it is, I suppose, good news that this announcement has made its debut at this time, I find it a bit unlucky for you that the timing is such that YOU are the one chosen to be the recipient of my lonely-and-depressed-barren-woman rant. For this I apologize.

While I cannot deny that we had some “good times” (heh, heh) and I would like to thank you always for making me feel desirable, (as if no one else does), I must admit that my faith in the goodness of the male species has been forever and always jaded because of you. Perhaps it is the fact that your current relationship began as you dating three women at once,or perhaps it is the fact that you’ve never once even tried to be faithful to she who now carries your child. Either way, I shall always look at men I’ve had as Fuck Buddies in a strange and terrible light now.

It’s true, if I were not in my current state of confusion over my Rockstar and life choices in general, I may have been able to offer my congratulations  honestly and without malice; but too bad for you, Dude- you get the full extent of my Sad Girl wrath.

I do not doubt that your wife is feeling great joy and ecstatic happiness at this time at the fact that she carries a little you inside her. (That kinda sounded dirty.) However, I do wonder if your excitement is of the same caliber. You know what babies mean, right? More work and less naked time- something that if I know you as well as I do, you shall not be thrilled about in the least.

Though it is not for me to judge God’s judgement in providing your sperm with extra oomph to impregnate your spouse, I cannot help but wish to raise my fist and scream at the heavens, “What the Hell are You thinking?!?!?!??!” It is clearly obvious He intends to make every single person around me pregnant as if to say, “Yeah, Bitch- take that!”

And so, to end this harsh and hateful letter, I can do only one thing- Curse you and offer my hope that your baby looks like Steve Buscemi. I realize that this will never happen, as you are a beautiful Puerto Rican, and your wife has an amazing smile. So boo on you.

No Love,

Sparklebumps

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Funny Thing


…is that’s it’s not funny it at all. But we put on a happy face and make a joke so as not to burst into tears. or some bullshit like that, right?

I got a text from my Ex-hubby the other day. I hadn’t heard from him since a few months ago right after he got married, but I knew exactly what it was he wasn’t telling me.

So when is she due? I text him after his initial blahseh greeting.

If I was going to have a baby, would you want to know about it? Was his response.

Not really, but I’d find out eventually, so we might as well get this over with. I steeled myself for the next text.

I just know how upset you got when people told you they were having babies. Always thinking of other people. Polite bastard.

So? Putting it off wasn’t helping anything.

June 29th.

You wouldn’t think one tiny little text with a date would make my whole world feel like it was ending. Well, you would be wrong. Surprisingly, it began with internal bleeding; you would never have known the news of someone having the baby that was supposed to be mine was eating through my insides like the ebola virus.

I guess I’m supposed to say congratulations or something. That was civil, right?

My sister is pregnant too.

The ebola virus had worked it’s way to the outside and I felt my body begin to melt into a hideous liquid mess of tears.

How are you doing, now that I told you? The “funny thing” is, he was asking because he knew exactly what was happening.

Not so good. I guess I didn’t really want to know you were having a baby. (Or that my internal organs would liquefy and my soul would die when I found out.) I only thought that last part.

Yeah, my eyes teared up as soon as I sent the text. I’m sorry.

So why is my Ex-Hubby sorry he’s having a baby and had to tell me? I’m sure you’re completely confused. After all, he should totally hate my guts because I cheated on him and then left him because I wasn’t in love with him anymore. I may have forgotten to mention- I also left because we tried for three years to have a baby, and when one didn’t appear, I realized I didn’t want to be with this man if there were no children. So I thought I had better find someone I actually wanted to be with if I was to be barren.

I’m sure you’re all thinking I’ve destabilized because it’s my ex that’s having a baby. That doesn’t help, no; because there was a time when I wanted to have 5 little boys who looked exactly like him. But you see from earlier in my post that I didn’t start crying until I found out his sister was having one too. It’s the fact that EVERYONE ELSE is having babies except for me. I’ve found out in the last two weeks that my cousin (who didn’t want a kid the last time I checked) and his wife are pregnant, the first girl I ever fell in love with and her hubby are, my ex and his new wife, and my ex-sister-in-law and her hubby (who also stated he wanted no children). So it’s safe to say that half the people in the world who are procreating are doing it because their spouses want them to. So all those half-wanted babies will be loved with only half as much love as they deserve, while my non-existant baby is loved with every fiber of my being.

“So why don’t you have a baby, already?” People keep asking me. It’s not that simple.

I have found a man who I want to be with. Unfortunately, he has a ten year old and is perfectly happy with only her. Because he has not yet spent 12 years with me, he doesn’t have the understanding of me that my Ex did, and so does not realize that telling me to hold someone else’s baby is like asking me to cut my own throat with a sharpened toothbrush. He does not understand that for the last two days, it has taken all of my will power to keep a constant stream of tears from falling. When I told him my Ex was having a baby, his only response was, “How do you know it’s even his kid?”

My Rockstar has agreed to have a baby with me when we have more money. The “funny thing” is, there will never be enough money. There will always be more bills, or other things to spend money on.

I can’t think about this anymore for right now, because I already can’t see, but this is to all of you who have kids who have ever even for a moment wished you didn’t, and all you parents with children with health issues, and all you pregnant women who are pissed off because you can’t sleep or have morning sickness, and all you individuals who “accidentally” had kids when you had “real” lives you wanted to have- you better fucking thank God or Shiva or whatever other deity it is you worship every fucking day for your babies, because if you didn’t have them, you could be just like me right now. And trust me. This doesn’t feel good.

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30 Day Challenge- Day 2


On day two of the 30 day Challenge I am supposed to write about something I feel very strongly about.

I’m surely going to lose a few readers over this one.

Abortion = Bad

It’s true, my Baptist roots are still attached, at least by a few fibers, because this is the only issue I still feel as strongly about as I did when I was a naive virginal Church Girl.

I cannot help but feel that abortion clinics should just put up a flourescent banner that reads:

“BABY KILLING AVAILABLE HERE!!!”

There are people who do not believe a fetus is a person. But let me ask you this: Can you find me one pregnant woman who intended to be in that condition who does NOT consider her fetus a baby? Just because a woman doesn’t desire the baby in her belly doesn’t make it less than one.

The reason I am so against abortion is the simple fact that there are more than enough alternatives. If a woman is raped, there are morning after pills. If a woman does not wish to get pregnant, there are condoms, diaphragms, cervical caps, spermicides, and many other forms of birth control. If all of these are abominable options for such women, be a saint and give the baby you don’t want to somebody who does.

I’ve not yet decided my final stand on women who get abortions for medical reasons. All I can say is, if I were the one with child, I would not be killing it to save my own skin. Or if it were a baby with birth defects, if I could not handle the situation myself, I know that there are people out there who would give their left nut to have a less-than-perfect child.

As for the women who get multiple abortions, I most certainly believe that they should be sterilized after the second one, no matter the reasoning for it. If we allow women to have an easy way out because they are to lazy to get a shot or take a pill, the senselessness will continue.

I know that if abortion wasn’t legal, they would still be happening. I’m not saying it should be illegal. I believe in a woman’s right to choose. I choose to point out the fact that if you choose death for your baby, I cannot be your friend. Because I would take your baby if you didn’t want it.

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