wherein mr. nice guy gets the munchies

dear, sweet, fuzzy, gentle, little, tiny readers. please forgive mr. nice guy for being so incredibly remiss these past few days. a quick recap of what you missed. since last we spoke, here is what has made mrs. nice guy gag:

• the garlic on a slice of pizza she attempted to eat
• the garlic on mr. nice guy's breath after eating his slice of pizza
• coughing
• hearing mr. nice guy hiccup
• the trash, which, admittedly, needed to be conveyed outdoors
• mr. nice guy's breath, basically, always
• the thin layer of grime which had settled over her own unwashed body
• watching mr. nice guy imitate her gagging after she had just completed gagging
• et cetera, or, if you will, ad nauseum

basically, you get the point. which brings me to my point. i was recently reading a seminal (no pun intended) publication on what to expect when one is expecting called, aptly, "What to Expect When You're Expecting." here is a typically unintentionally hilarious passage discussing the third month of pregnancy:

cunnilingus ... is safe throughout pregnancy as long as your partner is careful not to blow any air into your vagina. doing this could force air into your bloodstream and cause an embolism, which could obstruct a blood vessel and could prove deadly to both mother and baby. (p.163-4)

first of all, the expression is blowing hot air up someone's ass, but that is neither here nor there. second, does anyone know of anyone who even remotely knows anyone who has DIED FROM CUNNILINGUS? i mean, has this really happened, like, ever in the history of all time? how does one explain this death to the law? or, for that matter, to the in-laws? "i am sorry to tell you this, but your daughter died in an unfortunate muffin-munching incident. when i bit the little one, she bit the big one."

third, and most important, this raises a crucial question: who the fuck is having her muffin munched during the third month of pregnancy??? who is able to use her legs to walk, much less throw them over someone else's shoulders? i want to meet this dynamic she-hulk, because mrs. nice guy, bless her tiny vomitous soul, is not exactly a steamy, gurgling volcano of libidinous lava these days (which is fine, really JUST FINE, with mr. nice guy, thanks FOR ASKING). we throw a little party in our heads whenever mrs. nice guy has the fortitude to eat toast AND cheese in the same day--to say nothing of what i have (or in this case have decidedly not) eaten.

lastly -- the implication in this book is that even non-pregnant women run the risk of courting a FATAL EMBOLISM whenever a significant other, uh, pays her lip service. this is pure crazy talk. (and, aside from the obvious benefits to a husband looking for a foolproof method of offing a rich wife, utterly horrifying.) obviously we are witnessing the evil designs of some vast right-wing conspiracy. the dark forces of the world are conspiring against us, people! we must rise up and go down! do not listen to The Man. if we want to drink from the fountain of youth, we shall drink from the fountain of youth -- what's the worst that could happen? i mean, since mrs. nice guy gags when she smells mr. nice guy's breath, why not let him improve it a little ...