Prepare for the worst

What do cramming 7 drunks and 1 DD into a Chevy Blazer, jello shots, penis cakes, sore ass feet, and Pin the Macho on the Man have in common? I know, you could have guessed after the first clue. The festivus de Bachelorette!

I must say the bachelorette parties have thinned out in the last year. Mostly due to the fact that the majority (if not all) of my friends are married by now. This one was for my cousin, which was how I knew it was going to be a raving good time. My other cousins (one from out of state) also came, which made the trouble factor rise significantly. But it was so much fun to catch up, and party with them.

Chaz, our Pin the Macho on the Man sleazebag whore, was great fun. We hid his bizarrely decorated penises all around my house for my husband to find. It was great when I hear him shout from our room yesterday:

“Why is there a zebra print penis in my sock drawer?”

Me: “Huh, wah? Can’t hear you…”

It will be excellent this winter when he finds one in the fireplace.

The party was perfect in theory. Girls night out! What could go wrong?! But after an hour my incisions were throbbing and I thought my guts might fall out at any minute. I thought to myself: “Self, what the hell is your 27 year old going through IF treatments ass doing out here?” I sat on a bar stool for 15 minutes and rallied to finish out the night.

Despite my moment of weakness, it was a good night filled with bachelorette debauchery fun. Chaz, love you. Miss you. Hope you’re not getting salmonella on the bottom of my trash can.


In other wildly exciting news, my hcg injection is scheduled for the 20th at 9am. And we found out our insurance company is going to cover it.

Me: “What you’re going to cover a treatment for something that is medically wrong with me?”

I almost fell down the stairs ass over tea kettle when they told me. My motto with them is: Prepare for the worst. I think if I said, “Wait, let me get this straight…” one more time they would have shaken the Magic 8 ball again on me and changed their minds. So I let it go.

Internets: any advice on how to get my dh to produce his jizz sample would be hugely appreciated. I brought home a 1 pager of directions filled with "masterbation," "ejaculation," etc. They know how to turn a dude on, right? I offered to give a "hand" but how do I know when the time is right? The sample has to be provided between 8am and 3pm.

Me (from work): "Hey honey, how about we run home for lunch for a quick hand job?"

Him: "... ... ...."

Not so much.