Read I Heart My Little A-Holes Online
Authors: Karen Alpert
I Heart My Little A-Holes
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in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2013 Baby Sideburns
All rights reserved.
Dedicated to Zoey and Holden. I write about the bad stuff because it’s funnier and because there’s so much good stuff it wouldn’t fit in a book. I love you both more than you can possibly imagine.
Five Funny Stories about Vajayjays (say that five times quickly)
For the love of God, lady, it’s a locker room not a nudist colony
I’d like the Brazilian in the back please
Math-terbating and labia majoras
You can love your pagina, just don’t love your pagina
I’m gonna wash that gray right out of my pubes
Bundle of Joy My Ass, More Like Bundle of Hell
A lot of shit you don’t need when you’re having a baby
Where the hell did the name Baby Sideburns come from?
The serious chapter, like seriously
Yo baby book, you can take your milestones and shove them up your you-know-what
It’s all fun and games until someone shits a brick in the middle of the restaurant
Going from one kid to two is uhhh, how do I say this, let me see, hell
The other night I did something I swore I’d never do
Why traveling with kids sucks ass and totally isn’t worth it but I still insist on doing it
Don't Read This Chapter while You’re Eating Chocolate
This one doesn’t have any pictures.
Just a random poop story that has nothing to do with my rug rats
Hells yeah I’m putting on my oxygen mask before my kid’s
Another Holiday? Are You F’ing Kidding Me?
New Years resolutions I plan on breaking the shit out of
Ten things that suck about Valentine’s Day (easiest list I’ve ever come up with)
Daylight Savings can kiss my ass
Ten things I really F’ing want for Mother’s Day
Twas the night before Mother’s Day
Ten things Dad really F’ing wants for Father’s Day
Halloween is to the Jews what Christmas is to the Christians
What NOT to F’ing buy my kids this holiday
The Truth, the Whole Truth, and None of the Bullshit You See on Pinterest
A letter to my daughter in the future, but none of that sappy crap you see on Huff Post
A letter to my son in the future, you know, if he hasn’t disowned me for this book
I don’t read no stinkin’ parenting magazines
Disney and Caillou and Other Annoying Crap I Want to Crap on
If Caillou were a real person I’d gladly go to jail for killing him
Someday my gay prince will come
Annnnnd This Is What My Life Has Turned into. Awesome.
Sometimes I think living in hell would be better than the suburbs
Minivans are the AWESOMEST!(No that whole title is not a typo)
Yo Rug Rats, You Owe Me $26,000 for Plastic Surgery
Allllllll the ways my body is different (aka sucks balls) after carrying two poop machines
Crotch and other words that make me uncomfortable
40 is the new “I want to kill myself”
This is my book. Thanks for reading it. Yeah, I could say more, but who the hell wants to read an introduction? Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s begin this shit with a bang.
So the other day I’m sitting in the locker room at the gym leaning over to tie my shoelaces when I look up and BAM, there’s a big ole giant vajayjay in my face. I shit you not. Less than a ruler’s length away from my eyes is someone else’s hoo-ha. The last time I was this close to a vajayjay, I was coming out of my mother. And just to paint you a picture, imagine if Carrot Top never got a haircut. Yeah, like that. So two things go through my head:
Have you never heard of a towel?
Have you never heard of a razor?
The truth is I have no problem with a hairy bush but you need to cover that shit up. Even Adam and Eve wore fig leaves and they were the only two people on earth. I mean they were bumping uglies (apparently a lot considering what they started) but they were still covering up their shit. So anyways, why the hell do locker rooms make people think it’s okay to walk around naked?!!! I know what some of you are thinking right now.
EXHIBITIONIST NUDISTS: It’s a locker room. Why on earth should we have to cover up in a locker room?
ME: Because I don’t know you. You are a stranger. We have never met before. Why in God’s name should you be showing me your vagina?!
I apologize for using the real “V” word (insert heebie-jeebies emoticon here). But these nudists don’t use words like vajayjay and hoo-ha and I need to speak their language when I talk to them. I know a few of you are glad I used the word vagina and are totally annoyed when I use words like vajayjay/hoo-ha/pink taco/yoni/bearded clam/coochie/Rumpled Slit Skin. Kidding, I have
never
used the phrase Rumpled Slit Skin. I don’t know why, but the word vagina just bothers me for some reason. Oh yeah, because it sounds gross.
Anyways, as I’m sitting there in the locker room with front row tickets I didn’t buy to someone else’s vajayjay, this is what I look like:
And she’s blocking me in and I’m totally stuck in the corner and my Zumba class is about to begin, which really doesn’t matter to me because I hate that class because I can’t dance worth shit but still I don’t feel like being blocked in by a vajayjay. As a claustrophobe and a vagiphobe, this is like my worst nightmare EVER. I can’t even say excuse me because my mouth is filled with throw up that I haven’t managed to swallow yet, so I hug the lockers like I’m Tom Cruise on an eighty-story building in Mission Impossible and I slide out around her. I swear to God if a single pube touches me, I’m going to scream and cry like I’m on fire.
But guess what I’m faced with as soon as I get around her. Like three other giant vajayjays. There are vajayjays everywhere I look. Agggghhhh, I have got to get out of here! As I’m running through the locker room avoiding hoo-has like they’re landmines, I almost bump smack into this chick who has a towel wrapped around her waist (thank God) but is completely topless while she dries her hair. Just because your boobs are small doesn’t mean they’re invisible, lady.
Half-naked hair drying lady is the last straw, so I close my eyes tight and put my hands out in front of me so I don’t crash into any walls and I run for my life. “Dear God, please don’t let me accidentally grab any breasts,” I think as I blindly bolt toward the exit with my hands out in front of me.
After what seems like an eternity, I’m finally safe and sound out of the locker room and in my Zumba class trying to catch my breath and find an empty spot near the back of the room where no one will see me dancing. Of course about three minutes later guess who’s standing in the front of the room. Vagina lady number one. Of course. Big bush ladies always pick the front row because they have no shame and they like to show off their shit. Well, at least she’s facing forward and I’ll be staring at her ass and not her camel toe the whole class.
Anyways, you know how the gym is. It always sucks motivating to get there but you feel awesome afterwards. Yeahhh, not so much this time. But that night getting undressed, I guess I kinda sorta feel like a tiny bit better about my own bush. Even though it’s February and I haven’t groomed it in like five months, it’s not like I haven’t groomed it in, uhhh, I don’t know, forever.
You say vagina,
I say vajayjay,
You say penis,
I say peeper,
Vagina, vajayjay,
Penis, peeper,
Let’s call the whole thing off.
A few days ago I’m reading some funny stuff on the Internet when I stumble upon this TOTALLY AWESOME picture. And while I’m supposed to be doing a million different things, all I can think is there’s no F’ing way I can pass by vajayjay cupcakes without writing something right away. So here goes. A few thoughts I had about these beauties:
