Today at work a woman passed me in the hall and asked me if I’d had a boy or a girl. I had a girl. Four years ago. And she was all “Oh. I just had you confused with that other girl in your department.” No one in my department has ever been pregnant. Awesome.
Moral: You are not allowed to ask a woman about her pregnancy unless you physically see a baby being pushed out of her vagina. Even then I wouldn’t say anything, just in case. Maybe just “Hey, cool baby” just so she knows there’s a baby coming out. But she probably knows. Or maybe not because one time on Oprah I saw this woman who had a baby in line at the bank and the baby got stuck in her pant leg. And they had to cut her pants off her so the baby wouldn’t suffocate. I’m not sure what she needed to deposit at the bank but it must have been really important. When I had Hailey though I kept thinking about that lady and how it would have been nice to have pants on because everyone and their cat kept stopping by to check out the state of my vagina. I’m pretty sure one guy was a janitor. True story.
UPDATE: In completely unrelated news, apparently twitter has decided that we are officially at war as evidenced by the “helpful tip” they sent out to people under my latest tweet:
A special thank you to Sarah who sent me this picture and was kind enough to ask me if I had sent out a tip telling people they should unfollow me on purpose, which in all fairness, is totally something I would do.
Comment of the day: If you suspect a woman is pregnant, but you can’t tell for sure, you should ask, “Hey, want to go get a beer?” If she says, “No thanks, I’m pregnant,” then you know she’s pregnant. If she says, “Sounds good,” then she’s probably not pregnant. Although she may be an alcoholic, in which case you just totally pointed it out to everyone and then offered to feed her addiction. Nice going, asshole. ~ Evn