Mocked by nature

Sometimes the irony of it all is just unmissable.

Nature has started to take the piss out of me.

We have a wee pond in our front garden, and from time to time we've noticed the occasional frog hopping and plopping about.

Last Thursday evening, ET mentioned how the croaking from the pond had become really loud.

Google soon informed me that this was the frog's mating call. Just f*@%ing brilliant.

By Saturday we had literally dozens of froggy couples shagging their brains out in our garden. They sure can pick their moments can't they?

Only feet away from the frog orgy, two other bug eyed creatures were in the midst of their own mating frenzy, huffing and puffing in the name of procreation.

Granted, our mating call was somewhat less primal, "I'm ovulating, come on, drop 'em... " doesn't quite compare with a pond full of randy amphibians ribbitting away to their hearts content, but it's certainly to the point and should be just as effective.

Unfortunately, the probability is, that it was no where near as effective, not with all the will in the world.

We've be doing this FOR a year, with nothing to show for it. That is of course, unless you count humiliation, humiliation, and humiliation.

They get to do this ONCE a year, and I just know we are gonna be over run by the hoppy bastards soon enough.

A host of spineless water balloons with legs have just spent this last weekend outside our window creating babies and us, two relatively intelligent human beings, can be pretty certain that our weekend's efforts, aided by prediction kits and stopwatches and gravity boots, will prove to be another failure.

Maybe I should fill my sample pot with some of this on Thursday?


Mother nature, you're a right bitch.

Plant in a moist, shady spot

No sperm jokes, no humping references, no pornographic vitamins, and no psychotic ranting about sub-fertility.
(quit the booing down the back you bollocks)

The inappropriate amount of paracetamol & codeine I've been popping all day thanks to the brace of teenage Christmases past has taken hold and I've begun hallucinating.

So for now, I'll just give you a glimpse of what I have to put up with EVERY feckin day. Welcome to my Holland....


Taken a few months back outside our home. The Dutch are f*&^%ing bonkers.

Being a prick (part one)

Firstly, let me inform you that from the sensation on the right hand side of my face, either this brace is doing it's stuff and I'm going to have a smile like Mr Ed in 18 months, or I've just had a stroke.

Anyway, more important matters, I know it may stun you to your very core, but I've not always been the suave, modern, sensative, metrosexual that you see before you today. I have been known, either through circumstance or intention, to be a bit of a prick. Here is just one example.

1996 Cork, Ireland.
Yours truly is out enjoying another evening of drunken student debauchery in one of the many hideous nightclubs that Cork had to offer it's student population. Put it this way, this place had sawdust all over the floor. We all know why drinking establishments frequented by students need sawdust on the floor now don't we?

The evening was progressing well, everyone was hot, sweaty, and drunk. Beer was the staple tipple of choice for everyone, but every few rounds, we'd break loose and try some shot or another, usually whatever the special cheap offer was at that moment.

It came to my turn to head to the bar. (This is a task I HATE. I will happy PAY for someone else to go for me. I'm short, lazy, and rarely attract enough attention to excuse myself through a crowded bar room or to get any kind of prompt service.)

So off I go, and start to make my return journey loaded up with 4 tequilas, 4 slices of lemon, and a salt shaker. Almost half way back to our table I slip on what I presume was some variety of bodily fluid, I manage to save my precious cargo.

All, that is, except for 1 slice of lemon....
'Shit, shit, shit' I face a dilemma:
-Do I fight my way back to the bar again for another fresh slice?
-Do I just continue to return to our table and dissappoint some one of my friends with no lemon?
-Do I, God forbid, return to the table and go without the slice of lemon myself?

No, none of the above. I pick up the slice of lemon which has landed nicely on a pile of sawdust and vomit, and carry on as if nothing had happened.

60 seconds later, 4 drunken students had 'slammed' another tequila, only for one poor unsuspecting partier to exclaim, 'Wow, that lemon had a LOT of pips in it'.

Undeservedly, she is still a good friend to me to this very day.

Brace Yourself

Let's put aside the minor matter of me being incapable of getting an Irish Catholic woman pregnant, which, frankly, in itself has GOT to be some kind of 'first' in medical science.

Let's put aside the fact that 1 week from now I have to repeat the entire self abuse and humiliation adventure all over again.

Let's put aside that my very manhood is brought into question by my previous experience.

Let's focus on another aspect of my ever deteriorating existence that will serve to chip away at the remaining fragments of respect, self or otherwise, that I possess.

I am already at somewhat of a physical disadvantage in life, I'm 'horizontally challenged'.
At 5 feet 6inches, I am a short arse. By Irish standards I am freakishly small, by Dutch standards I could be bloody Frodo.

As with most of life challenges, I get on with it, "what doesn't kill you..." and all that shite, but, as I wait for that growth spurt that I should have received as a teenager, I've been granted the joy of another teenage rite of passage. BRACES.

Twenty four hours from now, I, at 30 years, 5 months and 27 days of age, will have a feckin brace fitted to my upper rack.

Aside from pain, which I had made an agreement with Satan about many moons ago (he was gonna get to keep my first born child or something, I forget the details), I am going to look to look like a prize donkey. A gimp of the highest order.

How can I hand over the next 'shameful sample' while all red faced and shiny braced?

How can I get Spencer to take my instruction seriously when there's spittle flying everywhere as I bellow "I believe I can fly" in his general direction ?

How can I control unwanted saliva from dripping onto ET's sudoku puzzles when we are in our upcoming throws of passion on our quest to infinity and beyond ?

How can I eat a Cadbury's creme egg?

I need a lie down....

Supplementing Spencer

Now I'm going to get all serious and sciencey on your hides.

It's a big week for Spencer and the boys, Grand Prix week, 6 days which will make or break his reputation. (I am in negotiations with a sub-contracting sperm called Samson should Spencer not deliver.)

He needs the best preparation possible. We've tackled the mental preparation here but of course we need to back that up with real physical conditioning.
Keeping his condo nice and cool is a prerequisite, therefore I'm writing this wearing nothing but an itch and a pervy grin.
The hour we spent cycling in the snow last night on our way to and from a Christmas (yes, Christmas, we have strange friends) dinner also will help prime him.

But nature alone isn't enough!
This world we live in strips us of vital nutrients and send us towards a downward spiral of impending sterility. To combat this and to give Spence the best preparation possible we are pumping him full of supplements.
As usual the internet is as much a hindrance as a help with this stuff, but after much googling we've come up with what we reckon is best needed.

So fellas, listen carefully and take note. If that's too much for you to handle, then just look at the pictures.

Vitamin C - Yes guys, not only is this good if you want to avoid scurvy on transatlantic exploration expeditions, but it oxidizes and detoxifies just about everything. Great if you are a smoker or often in smoky or polluted environments. Recommended is 250-500mg per day for smokers. I'm not, but I gobble 1000mg a day anyway as I'm waiting for a call from Christopher Columbus, I hear he's on the look out for a sarcastic chunky lazy shipmate.

Vitamin E - It savages 'Free Radicals'. I'll be fecked if I know what they are. I think they are a band. Nonetheless, they are bad and simply must be savaged. I'm told 50-100mg per day is enough to kick the hole of a Free radical.


Zinc - Zinc is a handy wee bugger. It doesn't particularly add anything but it does stop your boys being generally crap at what they are supposed to do. The 'Acrosome reaction' is when the boys do stuff at just the right time to get stuck into that egg good n'hard, often this reaction is mistimed (do I hear an 'don't I know it' from the ladies...?) but Zinc helps the timing to stay in good order. At least 10mg per day is recommended.

Beta Carotene - Again an antioxidant with Vitamin A, purifies and sharpens everything. Other than that I'm not too sure what it does, but it DOES have a carrot on the bottle so I reckon it improves Spencer's eyesight so he can see better in the dark. 15mg a day and Bob's your uncle.


Disclaimer for Americans - This is not medical advice. Don't sue me. I have shag all of value anyway. If you do, I'll go on Oprah and play the sympathy card of being a sub-fertile male being hounded by capitalist bastards.

Incidentally, if any of you internet experts out there actually know your stuff and are willing to inform me that I might be killing myself or leaving myself open to turning orange or growing a second tail by ingesting these supplements then I would appreciate a wee 'heads up'.

P.S. She DID read it after all, which is why I have to be very male and stupid and self destructive by posting silly pictures.

Stay tuned...

Sunday Shouts & Pinkification

While Spencer is having a well deserved rest for a while, I'm gonna catch up on some housekeeping.
Last Sunday I linked to some blogs that I had started reading and enjoying.

Dozy prick that I am, I left out three.

So here they are...

Missives From Suburbia has compact posts, and great photos which keep me coming back.

The King & Queen at Married Leos are always good for a chuckle, a nice mix of topics and I love the husband/wife team blogging thing. Cool stuff.

Thirdly, probably the nicest guy in bloggy world, even if he doesn't believe my sperm number crunching, is Jason at Roth Family Adventures. Now, not only did I forget to include this last week, but he make me look like a savage tit by posting this. So now it just looks like I'm sucking up to him, but I'm not. Honest. It's a good blog, as can be proven by reading this.

Aside from making a fool out of myself by omitting the above, I've been showered with pinkyness this week.

Melinda of musings by melinda zook fame created a 'Zooktastic' award and passed it to me.


I doth my cap in your direction oh pink one.

Then Tiff at the Three Ring Circus went a bit stir crazy and gave me two awards 2 days running. Both of which are also very er...pink.



I don't know is it the revelation that my semen is about as useful as tits on a bull or what, but people are getting all Pink on me.

I'm a man damnit. Honest.

Thanks folks for the great reading, cool awards and the comments you all leave. They are all very much appreciated.

I'll be back with a Spencer update tomorrow.

ET phones home...

...and tells me she's going to be working late.

Perfect. Now I can write this in peace.

You say you don't read this anymore, but I know you do. I like that. I want you to.

I want you to because of things like this. I don't, or can't, always say what I should, when I should.
This makes it a little easier.

These last eleven months have been the most frustrating, disappointing, and yet exciting months of my life. In a sick kind of way they have also been the happiest. Happy because of what we are trying to do together. Not me, not you, but us, together.

I know, because I get impatient and frustrated, I annoy the very living shit out of you, I am trying my best not to. You handle that very very well. Please don't confuse this 'annoying you' with my regular, everyday 'annoying you', that's my favourite past-time and frankly, it's my duty as your loving husband.

I'm sorry that, as of yet, I haven't been able to give you what you want, but I will do absolutely anything to make it happen.

When it does, it's going to be bigger and better and a million times more fun than we can imagine right now, I'm sure of it.

So, my daft wife, my very own 'cheese bitch', I just wanted to let you know that I love ya, I might even get drunk sometime and actually tell you for real, if you're really lucky.

Why am I saying this anyway?
Aside from what you may believe, it's not just because I want to be able to watch the football in peace later. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be writing this, or putting my wobbly bits through humiliation, or talking to my own semen, or any of this insanity, so it's only appropriate that entry 100 (100! -for f*&^ sake woman, get knocked up already!) is just for you.


Love, your chubby fingered hubby.
P.S. Pity you don't read this anymore though...

Spencer

Dear Spencer,

I know you are only one among millions down there, but you're the one I feel I have a connection with, the one I can talk to. I see you as a leader among men. Well, semen at least.

We've been through a lot together, you, your buddies and me.
Remember the first time we met? That was an eye opener, certainly was for my stuffed animals anyway.
Over the next few years we had lot of good times, we met up with each other at every opportune moment, and quite a few inopportune ones.

In fact, to date, I can only think of one single occasion where we met that wasn't entirely pleasurable.

But things are changing...I'm not gonna butter you up, I'm gonna tell it to you straight.
You need to get your act together down there and get your crew in order.

Lets look at the facts.

You have one hell of a crew, a big following, in fact every time we throw a party, 160 million of you guys show up. That's great, it's just what we want to hear.

Of that 160 million, just about the right number of you lot are not complete freaks.
Heads - check, tails - check.
Again, great. The 33% of you that are in decent shape leaves us with 52.8 million studs.

You should be pretty proud of that. I know I am.

Now comes the tricky stuff. I know you don't wanna hear it but you need to face up to it. 35.9 million of those studs are time wasters. They don't move AT ALL. They sit on their arses admiring their perfectly formed heads and combing their tails and totally miss their cue.

I would appreciate it if you could see your way clear to doing something about these guys, they are good enough, but they gotta get some inspiration from somewhere. It's up to YOU Spencer.

Failing that, you must, at the very least, get these fellas out of the way, keep them at the back, out of harms way if you will. This is because you have 16.9 million stud buds who DO know where to go, and of those, 11.6 million get there bloody fast.

We've got a few really big weeks coming up Spence, you and me. You have a few days for practice runs but in less than two weeks you're going to be called upon, for real. No more dribbling out like a runny nose, you've got to fly like you've never flown before, and swim like your life depended on it. (Actually, it does depend on it but let's not dwell on the morbidity of it all.)

At best only a few of you will make it, but I have every faith that you will be there, leading the charge. When you get there Spence, hang on for dear life, sink your little teeth in. Work that freakishly big head of your's inwards, wiggle your bum, worm your way in, weather the storm, and don't take no for an answer.

I know you can do it, ET knows you can do it, all your buddies down there know you can do it, together Spence, we will help propel you to greatness.
You can achieve fame beyond your wildest wet dreams. Forget the creepy anonymous sperm guys from 'look who's talking', forget the D-list 'celebrity stain' on Monica Lewinski's dress, you are on the verge of spunking heroics.

I know you are apprehensive. I know this is unchartered territory. I know this is a long way from the safety net of a kleenex. I know you are doubting if we can do it, but Barack, Bob the builder and I are here to tell you Spence, that - Yes.We.Can!

Don't let the significance of the day that's in it pass you by, it's St. Patrick's day, the day of celebration of your proud people all over the world, who left their homeland and made a life somewhere else, you need to follow in their footsteps.

You're a big time player now Spence.

'Carpe Diem' Spencer my faithful buddy, 'Carpe Diem'.

Sad Sunday, Shouting, & 100

==Sad Sunday==

I hate Sundays. Always have.
This one brings us the not so surprising, yet tormenting news, that yet another month has been a failure.

Shouldn't be surprised considering the results of this week but we still had hoped for that outside chance. Not to be. So begins cycle 12.

We've told some friends about what's been going on, I'm not so sure about their reaction but for me it's a relief not to have to hold my tongue so much anymore.

I don't know if ET is happy about this or not. She says she feels exposed. I can understand that, I think, but I hope she talks to her friends about it, it can only be a help, right?

I don't want to push, or pressure her, but I think my frustration and impatience is doing just that to her. I just don't want to let you down any more than I already have.

Tomorrow we are going to attempt to jump start our progress with a specialist, i.e. get in touch with one. Hopefully the regimented Dutch system will allow us to go ahead and not force us back through the painfully slow 'everything via your GP' route.
Wish us luck.

Well that's enough of the serious stuff, and not a testicle nor blind lesbian joke to show for your reading efforts.

==Shouting==

I've added a few blogs to my reader this past week or two, you should check them out if you haven't already.
There's "there's never a line for the men's room" which is quality over quantity but nice and self deprecating, and I loves me a bit of self abuse.

Then there's A whole lot of nothing which is worth the visits for the beautiful pictures of their wee girls alone.

Also, Fuse Moms is a well written blog, a good mix of funny and sweet...and Lyssa has been to Holland, the poor woman.

Magneto Bold Too is probably the funniest woman blog I've come(note correct spelling) across. Foul mouthed and unsympathetic, and Australian, which makes her Irish really. Probably descended from criminals but it takes all kinds, eh?

I've been getting braver and braver and checking out the Immoral Matriarch. She scares the shit out of me, but makes me laugh & pity her husband.

It seems that people really take pity on subfertile idiots like me and give them stuff.
I've been given 2 bloggy type awards from BusyDad and from Kelley at Magneto Bold Too.

These two are weird and cool seeing as I haven't got a bull's notion what I'm actually doing.
Thanks guys.




Then Kim at Frog Ponds Rock created an award and gave it to me. Frogs are my second favourite thingys after ducks so this is really cool.


Also, I must point out that she gave this as award for my masturbation incident, which I think we should highlight as something that isn't rewarded often enough.

==100==

Now, if you're still awake, listen up.

I'm a couple of posts off 100, I couldn't believe it when I noticed that. As I'm am lazy (No sperm jokes you pricks), I want to mark this post, yet I can't be arsed coming up with any ideas.
This is where you come in.

Leave a comment or drop a mail with an idea for my 100th post and I'll go with one (or maybe more) of the best suggestions.

Anything you wanna hear about? see? ask? Be as creative and as weird as you want. Remember I have no more shame left so I'm game for anything.

Number Crunching

You lot are a right shower of useless donkeys aren't you?

You were supposed to give me some deep insightful thoughts into my results, showing me the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead you faff about in your mother's slippers wishing me "Good Luck". Well, good luck bites.
For those devoid of a sense of sarcasm, I'm actually quite grateful for those who reacted with their knowledge on the figures (albeit somewhat limited and/or obscure to say the least). Thank you.

Here's some number crunching for you.

Some online doctor website who's name I can't ever remember has a formula for calculating the number of champion sperm per swimming competition.

Sperm count
X
Progressively Motile Sperm (A + B)
X
Morphology
X
Volume

This gives you the total number of Potent, fast, direct and correctly shaped sperm, in other words your final haul of ammunition.

It takes into account more of the overall situation, and not just individual scores.

It makes sense to me, as a scientifically challenged male at least.

If I were an egg (now there's a blog entry for the future), I'd be more worried about 25% of 100million sperm rubbing up against me than 50% of 30 million

Taking the 'norm' values as the bench mark:

20Million X 50% X 30% X 2.75ml

This gives the 'norm' a total of 8.25Million real hard bastards per squelchy session.

Now take my results:

64Million X 32% X 33% X 2.5ml

This gives Xbox Balboa a total of 16.9Million of the fuckers. That's DOUBLE the normal army.

Am I nuts?
Am I grasping at pubes here?
Am I being testicularly testy over my test?
Am I onto something?
Am I on something?
Am I 15Million sperm short of a mouthful?

I give up thinking.
The bottom bloody line is that it doesn't matter if my scores came back all double the norm, it wouldn't change a thing, there's no baby.

With these results there IS still a chance, and not a bad chance either.
Today, I'm confident, this CAN still happen naturally, and if it doesn't I'm POSITIVE that with a little assistance we'll hit the jackpot.

So I'm still game for a miracle, and I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
48 hours and counting...

Laid Bare

Having already left 'too much information' airspace, I've proceeded to fly over 'please make him stop before my eyes bleed' territory.
For your amusement, and to further my seemingly uncontrollable hunger to make an unmerciful eegit out of myself, I'm gonna give you the blow by blow of the results, which I received the details of today.

Volume:
2.5ml (Norm 0.5 - 5.0ml)
You'll note that I was concered about the volume at the time, I'm pretty sure that under normal circumstances (i.e. not sitting on the side of the bath with a stopwatch between my teeth and a plastic pot my left hand) that I would usually get another 50% onto that.

Sperm Concentration:
64 million per ml (Norm approx 2omillion per ml)
I'm Lee Majors and I'm getting T-shirts printed...

Total Count:
160 million
Seriously, -who da freakin' man?

Motility A(fast progressive):
22% (Norm >=25%)
Oh...


Motility B(Slow progressive):
10% (Norm >=50%)*
Shrivel...


Motility C(non progressive):
0%
Sweet Jesus...

Motility D(totally fucked):
68%
My house IS built on a nuclear reactor, right?

pH:
8.0 (Norm 7.2 - 8.0)
ET disputes this. Don't ask...

Morphology:
33% (Norm >= 30%)
Big heads, go figure...

Mixed Agglutination Reaction for IgA:
0% (Norm <=10%) Them's my boys

Mixed Agglutination Reaction for IgG:
0% (Norm <=10%) Whoooo, ride 'em cowboy...

Presence of agglutination:
Present.
Bugger it anyway.

Liquidity:
noted as 'abnormal'
I'm putting this down to the 'running like a whore out of church' to get the sample to the lab as fast as possible, and also the period of abstinence, which has been noted as not long enough.

Now, if you have managed not to throw up your lunch (Yank region), or breakfast (Aussie region), or fish fingers (Dan), what do you guys make of this?

Some individual scores are good and some are not, but I am a little bit encouraged by the combinations of it all. To be honest, I'm as confused as a blind lesbian in a fish market, but I have some theories.

A lot of you are obviously quite well versed in these matters, I'm genuinely interested in your take on the overall picture.
Do I need to eat more cabbage, or rub sea shells against my testicles 3 times a day, or pump more cash into my 'bribe Jesus into leaving a miracle unattended' fund?
If you have something to add, please do....

For completeness' sake, (the post's and my humiliation's,) I'm sorry I don't have a picture of the sample to add.

*The defining measure of 50% motility, I'm not so sure of, is it 50% falling in A & B, or 25% in A, and another 50% in B, leading to 75% in A & B. I'm not having great luck nailing that definition down consistently from any sources.

The Norm values I mention are those on the lab report, I have seen some variations on these elsewhere.

Dusting off

Please stand up & pat yourself on the back.

You all deserve that(and a hefty bosom full more to boot) for all the amazing comments you left last time round. I don't do soppy as a rule, but you guys 'complete me'.

Well, not quite.
Not at all in fact, that was a big fat lie.
But you do seriously rawk 'big' time for the time and effort you put into your comments, I am genuinely 'awwww shucksed' by them all.

So, what next? Well, performing more sex acts upon myself in the early hours of the morning and depositing the produce of said acts into a plastic pot of course, what else?

I will take a repeat test in three weeks just so I can hand a pot of semen labeled 'useless bastard' to Grizzly Adams, and then 2 weeks later I can revel in the joy of my GP looking down her nose at me while asking if I have ever considered the priesthood.
Then, and only then can I discard my last shred of manhood like a snotty tissue.(except it's not snot on that tissue as all you parents to teenage boys know)

Hopefully before that time comes we will have identified a suitable fertility/reproductive specialist to go further with.

I can't believe it's come to this.
I can't believe that when I wrote my first post that I would be here almost a year later, so much further away from what we had aspired to.
I was pretty sure that I didn't take it as a blow to my fundamental maleness, I wasn't sure I had any 'fundamental maleness' left after the last year, but fuck it I do, and it's been dented.

The real obscene aspect to this stupid feeling is that it doesn't arise when I think of my uber potent sperm who are just too glued to American Idol to swim a few centimetres, it comes when I imagine someone in the future confirming that ET has gotten pregnant, - no thanks to me.
It may be my sperm, but I couldn't even get it to do the basics right.
I don't know which I'm more ashamed of, the facts or the feelings.

In other news, my recent forays into the world of dentistry saw me back in the chair today, this time at the orthofeckindontist. The good news, (if you are a sadistic son-of-a-dogwithtitties,) is that I get to have a brace fitted. Yes, you heard me correctly, I, a thirty year old professional will be sporting a brace in two weeks time.

For those of you not so good with numbers, 2 weeks is 1 week less than 3 weeks. Therefore I will be a chubby, short arsed, 30 year old, brace mouthed, serial mastubator when I hand over my next jug of jizz on this quest for fatherhood.

...but you know what? I will do it a million times over if I have to.

Results

I can't think of funny right now. So facts will have to do.

Some Definitions...

Sperm motility:
The percentage of all moving sperm in a semen sample. In a semen sample, 50% or more of the sperm should normally be moving rapidly

Laziness:
1. not wanting to work: unwilling to do any work or make an effort.
2. conducive to idleness: contributing to an unwillingness to work or make an effort.
3. slow: moving slowly


Quote from one of a billion fertility sites:
"No patient ever wants to hear the truth that there is really no effective treatment available today for increasing the sperm motility ."

Houston, we have a serious fucking problem. Absolute nightmare.


P.S. I'll come back on the reviews and stuff in a few days

Updates & The 'Rash Review

Baby Juice Update: There is no update, the results were not in. Just as well seeing as ET left the country this morning without her phone and I would have had to have used smoke signals to give her the news, but there isn't any. I'll try again tomorrow, if I haven't spontaneously combusted or been arrested for throwing stones at passing cyclists in the meantime.

Free Stuff Update: I've decided, thanks to Monique's* powers of perception, that I DON'T want a free XBOX360 from Sony to blog about in a witty yet boyishly charming manner, because they don't bloody make them. Instead I think I could do Microsoft a great service by telling the word how their products make me no longer want to change nappies.**

Meanwhile, back on the ranch. Being the wonderful, generous, loving itchy gonad that I am, I've decided to offer my literary services to you all.

Due to the facts that A) I very obviously have no children and therefore nothing to do with my time, and B) having to partake in squelchy sessions more often than was ever intended for a man hurtling towards middle age, and therefore can no longer walk properly or interact with society, I have plenty of time on my hands.

I'm offering, for a limited time only (i.e. until I get bored), an Xbox4NappyRash style review of, or interview with you for, your blog.
If you don't want anyone thinking that you've got a really big head, I'll take nominations for blogs from other bloggers and clear the nomination with you before I write anything.

For reviews I'll even provide a summation in the form of a semen analysis. Now who doesn't want that? eh? eh?

You can e-mail me your request or nomination for a review or an interview on the usual e-mail address I leave when I spam your blog with asinine comments, or at the new sexy, whiter than white address of Xbox4NappyRash@Gmail.com, or even just leave a comment here if you are brave enough.

I'm not one to play the guilt card, but if no-one responds, I'll be f*&^%%$ gutted.


*Go check out the most beautiful baby photo ever on her blog.
** A big fat lie.

Generally being a tit

ET spent 2 and a half hours at the hairdresser on Saturday. With dried toothpaste on her face.

Classy huh? We are not experiencing a good relationship with toothpaste lately.
Also, this is not her first time making a tit out of herself at the hairdresser, she has previously spent hours there with her zip wide open, her 'love-heart' underwear on display to the customer's amusement.

From that, back to free stuff... due to Dan's generosity, I've decided that I want more free stuff. So send me some, okay?
In fact, I reckon with this blog's title, the wise and generous people of Sony corporation should be stepping up to the plate, and encouraging me NOT to swap my Xbox for nappy rash, possibly by providing me with a new one, that I can actually get games for. I'd be only too happy to keep the world wide web informed of my progress and how heart breaking a decision it turns out to be. Good idea don't you think?

From the desperate, to the bizarre.... Whilst enjoying a beer with a friend Friday night, we got around to the subject of marriage. (My own marriage tale is a bit of a sore subject in these parts, as basically we ran off to the US and got married on the Mississippi without telling any friends.)
Anyway, this friend mentioned that should he get married, he would do something similar.
As we had consumed a beverage or two by this stage, I decided it would be a good idea to suggest that I get ordained and perform the ceremony for him.

So I did.

I shit you not, as of Saturday morning, I am an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church, and allowed to officiate over weddings and other religious occasions in the United States(except for circumcisions, thank f***). So, anyone wanna be married by Reverend Xbox4NappyRash ? I'm game if you are....

Oh, and I should have the medical profession's verdict on my baby juice on Monday.

Dan 'da man

Dan from All That Comes With It has given me free stuff, I love free stuff. He sent me a book about how to improve your blogging, lots of ideas and tips and tricks, all of which I will of course ignore to my inevitable regret.
While I'm almost certain that I should take it as a bad sign that a stranger should send me information on how to improve my blog at their own expense, I'll pretend that isn't so, and allow myself to believe that Dan is just a cool dude.

I jest, Dan, of course. You are cool. And no more so than for the following reason. next July, Dan will be walking 78 miles in aid of the Joseph Salmon trust.

The Joseph Salmon trust (as described in Dan's own words) "supports parents who have lost a child by providing financial assistance to those who need it most. This may be to help with funeral costs or to allow the self employed a break from work while they come to terms with their loss. Grieving families have enough to deal with without worries about where they will find the money to say goodbye to their child or pay the next electricity bill. Nothing we can do can make their situation better, but we can do something to stop it getting worse."

78 miles is a lot of miles. He could stay at home with his own cute kids, and blog, or surf the net or watch telly, but he's not, he's going to walk 78 bloody miles, for a GOOD cause.

Click here to read more about this, and if you think it's worthy, why not give a few extra clicks and support his action with a couple of quid, or bucks, or whatever you use to buy stuff.

Go on, pwetty pwease?

La Blitz Du Ovulation!

This is probably venturing into the realm of 'Too Much Information' but what do I care anymore, you get to hear about my inability to be correctly dressed -before, during and after important occasions such as this or this, you get to hear about my unintentional workplace kinkyness and indeed you get to hear about my enforced self pleasuring, using the term pleasure very loosely of course.

Anyway, It's a big day or so here in the mad house on humping hill- It's ovulation day (and a bit) !

Now, in past months we've gone with varying saddle strategies, such as:
-Gung-ho!, whenever, wherever, all month long with no idea of when ovulation is occurring.

-Guesstimation! Strategically planned around a best guess time when ovulation is probably occurring. Using the aqua team sparingly.

-L'Execution! Finding out exactly when ovulation occurs and pinpointing that time precisely. One fleet of marine experts with one mission.

-Oh-is-that-the-time! Being super cool and casual and pretending that we don't know when ovulation is. Flabby, pasty faced drunkards splashing around.

-La variation! - Variations of all of the above.

The quicker witted amongst you will be the ones to realise that none, to date, have worked.

So enter the month of 'The Ovulation Blitz!' ( or 'La Blitz Du Ovulation' for our French readers).
What does this involve?! I hear you all cry with trepidation...Well, it involves pinpointing exactly when ovulation will occur, and then proceeding to putting rabbits to shame from a day before, right through until the smile is gone from our, and the (very creepy) ovulation prediction kit's faces.

We've gone for blowing the text book standard of 'every 2 days' out of the water, and we are going warp speed.
We've 'ooooh la-la-d' our way through the past 36 hours. I've removed my underwear more times in the last day than any self respecting European male does in a working week.

Just this evening, entering the tail end of the ovulation comet (24 hours +), we arrived home to the usual argument of who is to cook. I pointed out that she needed to first go wazz on a stick, and the resulting smiley face meant that pizza got ordered, uglies got bumped, and dinner for Monday was a post coital pizza. (If that's not a gem of a marketing idea for Domino's then I don't know what is)

I'll admit, it was not easy, there were a few moments where I needed an inner pep talk and intense concentration ('focus dude!') to get through it, but we (Team idiot) did it!
Team woman, laid back and finished today's sudoko. I'm proud to say, by the end, she was finding it difficult keeping her numbers inside the wee boxes(Go team stud!).

We plan one more orbit before the ovulation comet trails off into the darkness...but hopefully not for a few hours yet...

Told you it was 'Trop d'information'...

Sunday Shouts

A wee bit of round up time now, firstly a quick shout out to BusyDad who's going all big time on us, prepare to be sitting your toddlers down in front of his cartoon series every morning in a couple of years. Until that inevitable happens, you can follow the Busy Dad Tales right here!

Aussies tend to be a bit mental, none more so than Kim at Frog Ponds Rock, I'm yet to work up the balls to ask her what the name's all about but that aside she's blessed me bloggily with a bloggy blessing.It's a wee wooden Buddha meant to bless me what Kim believes I should be blessed with. Splinters.

Thanks Kim, the thoughts are very much appreciated.

Educate me! I want you to tell me what are the blogs that I should be reading, for information, advice, but mostly for a good belly rumble. If you leave a link I pwomise I'll check it out. Go on, pwetty pwease?

Some advice for YOU...don't ever, ever, EVER, even under pain of death, watch the movie "Flood" . If men come and threaten to take your children away unless you watch it, let them go, they're strong wee blighters and you can make more anyway. The film is THAT bad.

In fact I think it's left a smell in my DVD player.