h0t pr3gn@nt @cti0|\| !!!1!

not long after announcing to the world that the wife was pregnant, we received the expected hosannas and congrats and enormous cash gifts. there was the usual speculation over how gorgeous our child will be, especially given how really very handsome i am. but this one observation is what best exemplifies how my degenerate friends and i tend to think: "wow, this means that now you get to have sex with a pregnant woman." awww, yeah.

without impugning the unimpugnable virtues of mrs nice guy, this friend's observation has indeed -- with the help of prostrations, pillows and pulleys -- proven true. all in good fun.

or is it?!?!

it turns out -- not that either of us would have any first hand experience with anything so tawdry -- that not only does sex make babies, it also causes said babies to attempt escape. yes, sex in pregnancy (not that we've ever done anything so disgusting, mind you) is perfectly fine and dandy and safe for your baby. but when the woman is at term -- which for us will be on thursday, thanks for asking and holy shit -- sex can trigger labor.

here's the other thing sex during pregnancy do: trigger false labor. false labor is your baby's way of saying "hello, i'll be your child and the process of my fucking with you begins ... now." i won't be so crass as to divulge what triggered it, but mrs nice guy actually had a bout of the false labor the other day. this is also known as braxton-hicks contractions, which, according to allaboutmoms.com ...

can truly be as painful as real labor and make it even harder to distinguish the difference between the two ... Real labor will persist and will not be persuaded to go away. However, if you are in doubt, contact your health care provider.

first of all, i love the idea that contractions can be persuaded to go away. psst, hey, painful uterine muscle spasm, i'll give you a new watch if you bugger off. anyway, we were able to ascertain that these were indeed braxton doohickies, and not the real deal. which is nice, because i had a lovely afternoon planned that did not entail the miracle of life. no. (the miracle of beer, on the other hand, yes.) so, it's nice that these contractions are so easily dissuadable. note to self: next time she has them, tell mrs nice guy to simply persuade the labor pains to go away. honey, these contractions? they're all in your head.

at the very least this was a good dress rehearsal. i think it went well: mrs nice guy walked around like a trooper, breathing heavily and saying "oof" and "ugh" and "i am never having sex with you again ever never." i strolled beside her, stroking her hair and cooing sweetly into ears, "you're doing great baby" and "are you going to eat the rest of your bagel?" obviously, we're naturals.

(ps: ... HOLY CRAP SHE REALLY IS GOING TO HAVE A BABY!)