oh, you pretty things
today mr. and mrs. nice guy went to have the OBGYN practice her love on mrs. nice guy. this was our first pregnant journey to the doctor and, well, it was our lucky day. actually it was mrs. nice guy's lucky day as said love entailed having a footlong greased phallus forcibly rammed into her uterus. that's right: hot internal ultrasound action was the order of the day.
we saw the guppy! it was simply, beautif-- oh, who is mr. nice guy kidding? it was weird, surreal, to say nothing of the fact that it was awkward to have a technician diddling my wife with a seeing eye dildo. mr. nice guy wasn't sure if he should have tipped her 20 percent or punched the OBGYN dead in the face.
anyway. the nice guys saw their little baby today, about the size of a jelly bean. we also saw its poppyseed heart beating at ... 174 beats per minute. the technician, mid-molestation, informed us that this was a "strong" heartbeat. i'll fucking say it is. if mr. nice guy worked his heartrate up to 174 at the gym, his ticker would explode in his chest. mrs. nice guy would be ms. instawidow -- and probably not too unhappy about it either, saucy woodland nymphette that she is.
still. one thing is obvious here: the nice guys are mutants. clearly, we are building a new superbreed of humans. i am but the ur-nice guy. you mortals would be best advised to stand aside and let the new race take over.
UPDATE: a kind anonymous reader asks, "did you cry?" mr. nice guy feels compelled to answer here and not in the comments section.
ahem. cry? where to begin? let's put it this way: mr. nice guy gingerly held mrs. nice guy's hand as they gazed at the monitor. the jellybean's hummingbird heart looked too tiny and fragile to sustain such a torrid beat. mr. nice guy dabbed the corner of his eye and said to no one in particular: BEHOLD THE NEW LIFE I HAVE WROUGHT FROM INANIMATE CLAY! BOW DOWN TO MY OMNIPOTENCE!
we saw the guppy! it was simply, beautif-- oh, who is mr. nice guy kidding? it was weird, surreal, to say nothing of the fact that it was awkward to have a technician diddling my wife with a seeing eye dildo. mr. nice guy wasn't sure if he should have tipped her 20 percent or punched the OBGYN dead in the face.
anyway. the nice guys saw their little baby today, about the size of a jelly bean. we also saw its poppyseed heart beating at ... 174 beats per minute. the technician, mid-molestation, informed us that this was a "strong" heartbeat. i'll fucking say it is. if mr. nice guy worked his heartrate up to 174 at the gym, his ticker would explode in his chest. mrs. nice guy would be ms. instawidow -- and probably not too unhappy about it either, saucy woodland nymphette that she is.
still. one thing is obvious here: the nice guys are mutants. clearly, we are building a new superbreed of humans. i am but the ur-nice guy. you mortals would be best advised to stand aside and let the new race take over.
UPDATE: a kind anonymous reader asks, "did you cry?" mr. nice guy feels compelled to answer here and not in the comments section.
ahem. cry? where to begin? let's put it this way: mr. nice guy gingerly held mrs. nice guy's hand as they gazed at the monitor. the jellybean's hummingbird heart looked too tiny and fragile to sustain such a torrid beat. mr. nice guy dabbed the corner of his eye and said to no one in particular: BEHOLD THE NEW LIFE I HAVE WROUGHT FROM INANIMATE CLAY! BOW DOWN TO MY OMNIPOTENCE!
posted by mr. nice guy at 11:28 PM
3 Comments:
did you cry?
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There is nothing worse than enduring the dreaded internal ultrasound, especially if you are farther along and the ankle-biter is considerably larger than a jellybean. Maybe if they gave you a nice expensive dinner, some candlelight and soft music first...
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