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Uterus  /ˈyo͞odərəs/

Mildly bitter, overworked and severely underappreciated.  Herself hasn’t given up on me yet, so I begrudgingly put up with the weird neighbors.

We live near the pelvic floor, a weakening structure that needs much repair.

I’m back after a long hiatus sans womb wifi.   The new look feels like a rebirth, and it made me so happy I shed tears of blood! (ok I’ll stop with the puns – maybe).

Funniest. Shit. Ever.

Also referred to as The Time The Internet Forgot I’m A Uterus. The comments? Pure gold. Treat yourself, you deserve the laughs.

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Yeah, I said it.  Herself is weird.  And annoying.  And she has BALLS.

Weird enough her uterus is streaming Youtube videos while tweeting and blogging.  Annoying enough she sings early ’90 throwback songs at the top of her lungs.

Now she thinks she’s Julia freakin Roberts and pulled a classic Pretty Woman move.

Friday night, I was promised a night out with the girls, lots of alcohol, and yummy Mexican food.  The going gossip around us uteri is her friend TRIED to make a reservation but was told she couldn’t – and when we (and by WE I mean I) got to the bar she was told it would be a 3 hour wait for a table for 6, and we (and by WE I mean SHE) should have made reservations.

With the rest of the group about to show up, Herself and friends were pretty bummed.  Until the missus got out of the car like she had a plan or something.

Now as much as she’s weird and annoying and somewhat embarrassing and such, I’m so proud of what happens next.

She marched in like she owned the place, mustered the biggest fake smile she could manage and asked for a manager.  She explained that she was refused a reservation then told she should have made one.  She understands it’s busy and that there might be a 45 min – 1 hour wait on a crazy-ass Friday night…. but not even taking their names down?  3 hours minimum before they’re even looked at because the group is larger than 4????

And – wait for it… – she adds:

We’re a bunch of moms who just wanted to go out for a nice meal and some dancing with friends and maybe get a little drunk.  I know our group is a bit bigger but we have money to spend and we want to spend it here, on your food and your booze.

15 minutes later we were eating nachos and drinking margaritas at OUR table.  That’s right!  If I wasn’t a uterus I’d be damn sure that woman had gonads.

Never underestimate the willpower of a stressed-out mom in search of alcohol and/or freedom on her first night out in months.

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