New Category

Another follower! I must be on to something. I've decided that I'm creating a new category for my blog posts. Not like any of them have categories, other than my random iPod selections and random Wikiness, but anyone can do that. And I don't feel like doing that most of the time, although it's incredibly easy. If you're too lazy to do something that easy, then your heart really isn't into it. So my new category is going to be Freakshow of the Day. Yep, right off of craigslist. Since that's something that I'm already doing every day, I figure I might as well combine the two. The Richmond craigslist is always new and inviting, so I'm pretty sure I'll have new material until the coalition of state Attorneys General (I think that's the grammatically correct term for Attorney General gone plural) succeeds in getting the personal ads off of craigslist. But thank god for the internet and knowledge vacuums, because another site will pop up forthwith. Anyway, back to my freakshows. I might even mix it up and have non-sexual stuff periodically, or maybe I'll venture outside of the Richmond area (but I doubt that will really be necessary). However, I won't get too graphic or repost the pics, if there are pics attached to the post that I am critiquing. I don't want someone in bloggerdom to snitch me out to the blog police and then I'll inadvertently get bumped up to adult content. I googled myself the other day and found out I'm linked on an amateur porn site? Uh, thanks, I guess? Personally, I'd prefer intelligent erotica that really isn't either. Oh, wait, that IS porn.

I don't look at many blogs, simply due to the fact that I just don't have the time. It might cut into my craigslist time. Right now, I keep up with three of them, and none are linked on my blog because I can't figure out how to do that. I'll be working on that this weekend. I have, however, clicked "next blog" a few times just to see who my next door neighbors are, and I always end up with some touchy-feely woman who is really excited about writing her book or some family web/blog site with all the pics of the kids and how much they love their church and all that crap. This I find it to be hilarious, because for just that one moment in internet time, I'm their next door neighbor, waxing poetical about the freaks on craigslist, I was screwing around and got mulch in my hair, dropping the f-bomb with mad wordsmithing skillz, etc., etc., etc. I wonder if any of these people ever click their "next blog" button and end up on my page, and immediately begin to feel the burn of their retinas? Actually, I just did it and ended up on some gay men modeling pictures kind of blog.

So. Freakshow of the Day.

*I've edited some and cleaned it up a little*  49 year old white male in Richmond seeking the saggy breasts of an older woman of any race to do stuff with.  In fact, that's all I'm going to say. I don't need to do any more editing or censoring because really, what else is there to say after that? I'm pretty sure this guy should have a full inbox at the end of the night, as I don't know many older women who don't have saggy breasts, unless they are of the well-to-do variety (or pretending to be) who have filled their boobs with implants and stuff. Implants never sag, unless the plastic surgeon was a complete hack and didn't do something right behind some muscle or something. Seriously, I get the impression that this guy was breastfed until he was about 16, because this is just weird. Maybe he grew up in the country and had a wet nurse? Except I don't think it's called that anymore. I actually think people still do this. When I was pregnant the first time and reading all these books about breastfeeding, there were chapters in a few of them about substitute nursing or something like that. Like, if you couldn't nurse for whatever reason, you could hand your child off to some other lactating woman and she could nurse the baby for you until you were able to. I don't know, I skipped those parts, because I was kind of like, what the fuck? Here we are, a completely industrialized nation, and we're talking about substitute nursing or co-nursing or something?  If I can't nurse, then I will call upon the village of Similac.

I can say with the experience of a woman who has tried, breastfeeding is not easy. At least, it wasn't easy for me. I gave it a whole month with the older daughter, because her mouth was so small. That's really ironic for a child who turned out to have one of the biggest mouths around, right after me. Anyway, I was exhausted, trying to do the football hold on her (which most women can't do because we don't fucking play football) and figure out what was going on, is the milk going in, is it not going in, why won't she stop crying, oh shit it's time to pump. Yeah, so I gave that a month, since that's how long I had rented the pump. I was not going to buy a breast pump because I had no intention of using it for half of my life, and that's the only way you get your money's worth out of that investment. The end of the month came, and that was the end of the older daughter trying to breastfeed. Hello, formula. Although, I felt guilty for about six months, being that I was full of new mother anxiety and hormones, and because I had actually let some of the breastfeeding Nazis make me feel guilty. I'm sorry, I don't care how much weight it makes you lose, I don't want to suckle anything for years. Unless he's really hot and knows how to handle me.

The younger daughter, I'm a little ashamed to say, got exactly 12 hours to master the art of breastfeeding before I demanded the nurse to bring me a bottle. The second and subsequent children always get screwed, you know? We just don't seem to try as hard with them, probably because we know they'll live if we don't sleep with our eyes open while standing propped up beside the crib for about three months. I've compared sobriety to taking care of your children. I know that sounds strange, but sobriety is not easy. I know this and I'm not going to get into how I know this, at least not right now. Just take my word for it. So I try to tell people who are struggling with it, you have to nurture it, your sobriety. You have to nurture it, like you nurture a baby. Really, babies and sobriety are a lot of freaking work, especially if you're trying to do it right. But you have to nurture your sobriety like you did your first child, not your second child. If you nurture your sobriety like your second child, you'll be popping a top before you know it. You know that second child is fine if they sneeze a couple of times. You don't have a heart attack if they turn over in the middle of the night. You don't pass out when you see them chewing on something they found stuck up under the tray of the high chair. You don't agonize over how long they stay in the jumper, because you know it's not going to make them bow-legged.

Somehow I went from my new category of Freakshow of the Day to co-nursing to my own nursing experiences to sobriety to second child survival skills. This is just such an odd mix of topics I don't even know how to do a good wrap-up. So, like any conversation that I'm done with, even if you aren't done, I'll just walk away now.