A thought occurred to me. I don't know what day it is. Cycle day I mean (does this must mean I'm relaxed?).
Or just knackered?
Okay, it doesn't need CERN intervention to deduce that it's CD07 or 08 or so, but not knowing exactly is unusual.
Within a week we will be hard at it once again, moaning, groaning, sweating, chanting, and swapping bodily fluids, all in the name of procreation.
For the twenty fourth time. I need a lie down at the very thought of it.
Maybe it's a stupid question, but I don't think I've ever asked, how did YOU get knocked up, how did YOU knock your missus up?
Did you chew gum? shake both your hips a certain way? sacrifice chickens?
Did you use accessories, foodstuffs, or woodland creatures? Was there a specific time of day, or night?
Did you make use of any particular soundtrack or background noise, jungle sounds or whales arguing?
Did you dress up, milkman, postman, flight attendant, vicar, or backstreet boy?
Don't be mean, don't hold back, don't be ashamed. I'm not sure if you've noticed but shame doesn't live here anymore.
In other news, this has now been long listed (as opposed to long, long listed) for the Irish Blog awards specialist blog category.
I think the swimsuit round is next, followed by a shortlist, and then a talent round. Anyone good at anal bleaching?