Super Noise Time! 2: Super Noise Timier! Part 2: Super Noise Time w/ a Vengeance!

Wow, sorry everyone (Greg), guess its been about 10 days since the last installment of Super Noise Time....

So I left the clinic in search of a bank machine with a deuce still chambered jus within my hoop. Found the bank machine pretty easily (nearby gas station) and was back at the clinic within the allotted "jiff" that I had promised the girl friend. She was still waiting for her turn to be examined, so I took a seat next to her. For the next few minutes I pretended to focus on an article about uterus' (or is it uteri? Utereese?) that I had found in some vagina related publication, but really all I was trying to do was keep a vigilant anus (anoos? Anise?)

Then my beloved's name was called, meaning I would have to some how stand up, thus adjusting the position of my guts, and not poop. Success! I was up and not a particle had escaped! I was elated, which my lover surely interpretted as: Dave is really happy he is about to see a grainy picture of his unborn child (which I was, just not as happy as I was about not releasing my bowels) Then the nurse said this: Oh, the father has to wait, we have a few things we need to look for first, then he can come in. Well, luckily I took grade 9 drama, cuz inside I was jumping up and down, pictures of the washroom key dancing in my brain, but outside I was "acting" like I was disapointed.

So, sitting on the pot, all I could think about was how everything was beginning to work itself out (that is not a pun)(wait, actually, I think it might be). Sure, my darling hadnt publicly peed herself, but here I was enjoying a good movement, soon to see my future kid, hear its heartbeat and find out if there was or was not a penis. And yes, I did soon find myself looking down at a grainy black and white tv screen starring my son/daughter. And yes, I also heard its healthy beating heart (awesome). But, alas, that day would not be the day I saw a penis, or a vagina for that matter. Bastards said they couldnt tell us til week 21, and we were only at week 19. Shitty!

We did get a copy of the ultrasound, which I pulled from its envelope, examined it at the front desk and asked the question: "So which blotch is the penis?" Mark my words, friends, I will not rest until the day I know that answer. Goodnight! (Im pooped)

Super Noise Time! 2: Super Noise Timier!

"So which blotch is the penis?" Its one of those questions that need to be asked, consequences be damned. She stared at the paper picture and answered....

Wait lets stop for a second and jump to the beginning: It was Thursday, October 21, the day of Ultra Sound (or in the parlance of no ones time, Super Noise). The day was going pretty good, half a day off work, with an afternoon of maybe seeing my girlfriend publicly urinate herself (non-preg'd girlfriend has the bladder of a pregnant lady, so yeah, I was pretty sure after a litre and a half of water she had about the same chance as a cheese grater of not peeing out said water and making me giggle with glee)







was gonna go with standard picture of a cheese grater but this seemed funnier at the time, then between the time of trying to and failing at making a joke about cheese grater tp (Betcha Elaine wouldnt want you to "spare a square" of this brand, huh? Wonder if the mess it would make to her "yadda yadda yadda" would be "sponge worthy") I became too lazy to change it





The plan was to leave my work and go pick up my gal at her work and head over to the clinic together. The only problem was: I was hungry. Which was easily solved by me buying a gas station hotdog. Or was it? Yes. I ate my hotdog in the parking lot of my gf's work, while I waited the five or so more minutes til she got off, hoping she had been able to hold her pee inside her self or if not, that one of her coworkers had at least caught the incident on their cell phone, like I had politely bbm'd them to. Thats when it dawned on me: This delicious tube shaped meat bi product I was stuffing into my salivating mouth, was more than likely gonna make me poop my own pants!









imagine this picture, happening inside my pants

It was the only conclusion I could possibly jump to. After gleefully counting down the days til the ultrasound (with the help of the spiderman advent calender from last year i found behind my bed. I jus counted up to 21 instead of the classic 25 and replaced the chocolate with mini shots of apple juice, to represent the pee) I knew my fate was sealed (also it felt like the hotdog had found a back road, maybe thru my spleen or my appendix, that bypassed my stomach and was resting ever so delicately, right on my sphincter). As the mother of my unborn child jumped into the truck, I played it cool, never letting on that at any moment my bowels could release, knowing in my heart, it was all her fault.

Arriving at the clinic, I made a quick surveylance of the land as my child bearer talked to the nurse behind the counter. And there it was, like a lake in the middle of a desert, a desert with no where to go #2 (if you wanna know what its like to wipe with a cactus jus refer to pic #1) and now I had a lake of my own to poop in. I found the washroom! But alas there was an alligator guarding the lake or phirana's maybe (I dont think i like this metaphor) the bathroom was locked! Ha-ha, but thats no problem, I'll jus grab the key, its over here, by my gal, who, umm, is about to say something, "it costs 12 bucks for a picture, you got cash?" Ummm, nope! I guess I'll run to a bank then, dear. Whats that? Dont be too long, we should be next?!! No prob, hun, I wont take but a jiff!

I knew she wanted me to mess myself! What kind of person would take joy in anothers.... oh!

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(this concludes Part 1 of Part 2 of Super Noise Time! See y'all next when we finally find out who really shot JR (dont ruin it for me, I taped it a while back and jus havent gotten around to watching it, then when i was about to, i realised i didnt have a vcr anymore and then some friends came over and.....)

Super Noise Time!

A big thing is happening this thursday, my gal is going for her supernoise (or ultrasound, use which ever term you prefer). This means we're about to find if we're getting a lil monkey or a pretty pretty princess, but more importantly I'm goin see how long a pregnant lady can hold a litre and a half of water inside her blatter! Im pretty sure she's gonna pee herself ( to insure this I have already implanted her with my cold bug, which will surely give her the sniffles that will lead to the sneeze that will ultimately make her make pee)

I will keep you posted on the pee

and also the penis or lack there of

local man believes new born is being kind of a dick

Found this article in the Langley Times:

New father Daniel Pip, 29, has recently begun feeling that his newborn son, Nate 'cuddle monster' Pip, 5 (days), might be a douche. 'I don't know what's with this guy but ever since he's moved in it seems like its gotta to be all about him.'

Arriving this past tuesday, Baby Nate has taken up residence in Daniel's 'Man Cave', something that still irks the new dad. 'I had my PS3 setup on the 50" plasma, beer fridge next to this sweet Lay-z-boy I found on craigslist and a shelf loaded with my collection of old beer cans, some dating as far back as 2007.' Unfortunately he had to sell his collection below what he believed was their full market value, ' you can't tell me my cans were worth only a nickel a pop, two were from Germany for craps sake.' He's also still pissed that the kid didn't even offer to buy beer for helping him move or atleast spring for pizza.

Friends of Daniel's are beginning to worry about how his new roommate is affecting their relationship, 'first time I met this new guy, he crapped in his pants and Danny had to clean it up, which was pretty funny,' says highschool friend Jon, 30. 'Since then I havent really seen much of Dan. I guess 'cuddle monster' is a bit of a leaner, no job, no ambition, that sort of thing. As I understand, Dan's got a lot on his plate right now, no time for buds. That 'poop' prank was really hilarious, though.'

Relationships at home are shifting as well. 'This whole situation is kinda getting between me and my gal,' adds Daniel, ' it took me like two whole weeks to even touch a boob. Well, this kid waltz' right in and is gettin slobber all over them day fricken one. Bro's before hoe's, man. I tell yah, Nate's got a lotta growin' up to do.' Daniel seems to remember being much more mature at age 5 days. 'I don't know but I'm sure I wasn't so needy. Blame the generation I guess.'

Daniel is still optimistic. 'Its not a complete loss, we've had good times, too. Hey, when he showed up, the government made my boss give me a bunch of time off, which was sweet. I just wish Nate could be a little less selfish, you know? Maybe think about how his actions affect me.' Daniel hopes his son can find some sort of father figure in the near future. 'He really needs someone to give him some guidance, like my father did for me. I really hope that person shows up quick, other wise this kid will end up being quite the jerk face.'

Diapers: For craps sake!

For something that is wrapped around a babies ass with the sole purpose of collecting its waste, these things aint cheap! The kid will pretty much be shitting on my money. Lil' bastard. Also, theres not just one diaper out there, we have choices, people, I hate stupid choices! First you have different brands, the big names (Pampers, Huggies) vs. the store brands (kirkland, walmart, etc). And then the big names have different types also (If anyone knows what a fricken swaddler is, please let me know). This is surely capitalism run amok.

Pictured: Me being crushed under the weight of impending fatherhood

We decided to get Pampers 'Swaddlers: New Baby' as our first purchase because they were on sale (also cuz it comes with a neat-o umbilical cord notch!) which came to 24 clams for 84 diapers(size N). Seeing that newborns dump about 10 times a day, that should last about a week. It also wasnt lost on me that a case of beer is disturbingly close in price to a case of diapers (guess I'll have to drink as much as possible before this thing shows up)

On further inspection of the diapers packaging I'm able to deduce the following things about these diapers:

1. They are exactly one tear drop more absorbent than Pampers Baby Dry style (not sure who's tears they use for this measurement, but they're probs from the lady we saw in the states who's shirt read: disposable diapers are garbage. Funny enough, I didnt see a baby anywhere near this gal)

Pampers very scientific set of measurements (personally I believe they're closer to 2.15 puppies softer, but I'm not a scientist)

2. Big Bird was one cute baby (tho its strange that as an adult he finds it unnecessary to wear pants, but did sport a diaper as a chick. And I also got the mental image of a mother hen trying to change a diaper. think about it)

Big Bird before the fame (and the coke problem, but hey, it was the eighties, everyone was getting their beaks dirty back then)

3. Pampers is real proud about making this packaging a lil' bit smaller, for the environment, seeing as their actual product, as that ladies T-shirt makes perfectly clear, is garbage. Thats 84 pieces of trash inside a 40% smaller, recyclable cardboard box. Gold star Pampers.

4. Also Pampers has the irrational fear of babies stepping on rusty nails as shown by their donations of tetanus shots. Either that or they hate babies so much they want to stick em all with needles. Thats kinda sick, Pampers.

Oh, and wikipedia says: swaddling is an age old practise of wrapping infants snuggly in blankets or cloth so that the movement of the limbs is tightly restricted (sounds lovely). It was commonly believed that this was essential for the infants to develop proper posture. Modern medical studies show that swaddling assists babies to sleep, and to remain asleep. It also lowers the risk of sudden infant death syndrome (ok, maybe we'll swaddle).

Jesus' first miracle was converting his baby cul-de-sac into the glorious mane of hair we all remember

I will have to investigate the other brands, I guess. I have about 4 more months to do research. I will keep you all posted.

Listen to your father (notes to a future teenager): Your body as an amusement park

Masturbation. Yeah, this is that talk. Im gonna use the power of the internet on this one, cuz honestly it really makes me squirm to jus think about having to talk to you about this in 15 years from now. When that time comes, I'll jus dig up ol' bloggy here and let you read this. Hopefully society hasnt collapsed by then and we're not living in a post appocolyptic, internet free world, cuz I really dont want to do this face to face, with all the wordyness, hand signals and puppetry that goes with it. Oh, and if you do happen to be a girl, never mind any of this. Jus go talk to your mother.

Firstly, masturbation is fun! I do it all the time. It might make Jesus cry (or atleast blush and look away) but what doesnt these days? You wont go blind or grow hair on your palms and if your dead relatives are watching from Heaven, thats on them, not you. Dead pervs.

Like anything there are some basic rules for touching yourself:

1. Dont be whackin it on the bus (the best way to deal with a bus boner is to either slide it up under the top of your jeans or ignore your stop, school will still be there tomorrow) or anywhere public (just say no to public displays of masturbation, this is a love that must remain behind closed doors)

2. Always 'end' in something disposable (or learn to do your own damn laundry) or do the deed in the shower (we'll know why you take so long but so did our parents when we were your age)

3. Keep it to once a day or less (it may become habit forming)

4. Keep it simple stroker (stick to standard porn, nothing kinky. If youhave to ask to be gagged with a tennis ball the night you're trying to lose your virginity cuz its the only way you can finish anymore, you'll probably still be a virgin the next morning)

5. The taint is cool but maybe try to stay outta your hoop (theres nothing up there for you)

6. The last rule of masturbation is you dont talk about masturbation (I wont ask if you dont tell)

Thats pretty much all you need to know about beating ones meat. So dont worry about it, its totally natural and beautiful. And remember to have fun, wash your hands and never talk about it (ever)

How to name your grapefruit in 9 months or less!

My gal is now 16 weeks with child. This means, according to Glade B. Curtis, M.D. that our child to be is the size of a grapefruit. We need to name this grapefruit.

Step 1. Google 'Grapefruit' to find out what the hell one looks like.

G is for Grapefruit. C'mon you shoulda known that! Do I have to explain every little thing?

Warning: Halving real children may stunt growth

Step 2. Acquire a surrogate grape fruit.

The proud papa showing off Jr.

On my arrival back home from the store I realized that because we don't know the sex of the grapefruit, I actually need two surrogates. Back to the store.

Step 3. Draw a penis on one grapefruit and a vagina on the other one.

Not wanting to draw a penis or having the knowledge of how to draw a vagina, these sexes will be represented by the letters P and V respectively.

Step 4. Place grapefruit at far end of living area. Rooms with laminate or hardwood floor are

preferable.

Step 5. Begin shouting random names at the grapefruit. Note any movement on the part of the grapefruit and the corresponding names that triggered it.

Mavid did quite well

Fun Tip: Invite friends over to bet on the which name the grapefruit will choose!

Lost his shirt betting on Tyeesha, luckily he had another one on underneath (starring Bryce Epp as Brice Erpp)

Step 6. Snack time! Eat the vagina grapefruit because you know its gonna be a boy anyway.

Lovin the V!

Step 7. Write what ever name you want on the grapefruit and tell

your girlfriend that it was what the grapefruit chose.

Named after my great grandfather and someone called Diego.

What is this thing I've done??

Ok, ok, ok..... so, as I'm carrying my garbage down to the parking garage this morning, it occured to me that I have been lied to. Cuz I was told that when two people love each other lots and lots, their love mixes together inside the girls stomache in a huge lovin' love off battle royale to the 'life' and nine months later only one love exits, thru the lucky gals belly button and everyone smokes oversized novelty cigars in celebration of loves victory over love. Supposedly this is totes not the case at all. Supposedly all the two love birds have to do is fuck. Yuck.

Well, not believing in this whole fucking theory, but wanting my girl to think I was an open minded man of my times, we did it anyway. And the fucking fucking worked. I guess I have 'sperm'? Or as the medical community calls them: Ballium Snottus. This B.S. has been freeloading in my junk for years. Men (and women with *bonus* male genitalia) heed this warning: These spermies are in your junk, too! These lil' snots sit around all day, in your balls, planning how to knock up America's (in this case Canada's) women, so that the women give birth to cute lil' babies. Cute lil' adorable babies that grow up and steal jobs from us honest, hard working, blue collar American's (Canadians)!!!

This new found knowledge all comes too late for me, though. My sperms have already stormed the unprotected borders and held their swim meet inside my best gals insides, setting in motion a sequence of events that will ultimately lead to the loss of all my money, sleep, freetime and beer. On the brighter side, in a few more months I will have someone to steal this job of taking out the garbage!