Screw The Mice! Build A Better Mommy-Pouch...

  OK, can we say I’m in PPPPPPAAAAAAAAIIIIIIINNNNNNNN this morning and it has NOTHING to do with any stupid chronic illness! (Any male reader in the audience, please just back away slowly from the monitor or live with the nightmares and random flashbacks. You’ve been warned!)

  I am writing from a hunched-over position, cursing whoever designed this wondrous piece of equipment called a Mommy-pouch. Seriously? It HAD to be a guy, and probably the same ass-hat-extraordinaire who created six inch stiletto heels and control top panty hose! (Dude, you are SO on my top ten Karmic-hit list!)

  Let’s think about this for a moment…if the person LIVING with this gadget had been on the design team, there would be no “motion-triggered self-cleaning cycle.” (aka C-R-A-M-P-S!!!!) Instead there would be some form of “eject” button hidden behind the left ear or right knee or some shiz-nit. The wonderful “one-push flush-and-go” feature! (Hellz yeah!)

  Also, there would be a device, say in the belly button (since it‘s only post slide-through-the-Mommy-chute use is to collect lint) that would alert you to the need to “flush-and-go”. No more surprise arrivals from least-favored “Aunts,” especially for unsuspecting teen-age girls wearing khaki pants. Now, a discrete light will flash (or maybe vibrate would work better?) giving you a precise “count-down to arrival.”

  These new features would also eliminate so many of the un-favorable side-effects of ownership. For instance, with an “eject” button firmly in place, the hormonal dip required for the current “self-cleaning cycle” would no longer be necessary, thusly eliminating PMS! BULL-YEAH!!!

  This would also negate the need for days spent in fetal position, curled around a heating pad. No more pints of double fudge brownie ice cream, crying uncontrollably at cat food commercials, or screaming at you sweetie until you’re foaming at the mouth because the car he purchased three years ago is blue instead of the red you REALLY wanted and everything wrong in the Universe is officially his fault because of it!

  You know what? I’m gonna write a letter to the guys who host the yearly “Build a Better Mousetrap” contest. Screw the mice, they need to build a better Mommy-pouch! (First prize? Pfft! They gotta live with us, THAT should be incentive enough.)