Saturday, May 10, 2008

18 is now my least favorite number

I know I have mentioned my thoughts on this family once or twice before, and they have done it again. Quiverlet #18 is on it's way. They announced the pregnancy on the Today show, and "surprised the kids." Yeah, surprised as in "which one of us lucky kids gets delegated the new J-spawn." It might come down to drawing straws, they are that excited.

Duggar Mom is over 40, has more miles on her uterus that most airlines have on their planes, and yet she is still sneezing them out. By now, there has got to be a condo hi-rise built in there, complete with sauna and gym equipment. I'm sure the uterus decor looks much like a pair of pants I owned when I was 8, patches, rips, loose threads. Number 18 is busy looking for room on the wall of her cervix to write it's name, and jumping up and down in the football sized space it has. Doesn't she know that when you re-use the same hair band over and over, it loses it's elasticity? 15 or so big heads dropping out of that mack truck sized chute, makes me want to cross my legs and tie them around my neck. Cows can't keep up with the milk supply and demand she has. So when your boobs and uterus hit the floor at the same time, you pee when you speak, and there are no J names left except for Jalapeno and Jerky, and your stomach resembles a deflated hot air balloon, call it quits already. What more signs are you looking for?

The grossest thing to me was reading this part:

“They didn’t know. My girls watch the calendar like a hawk. We just found out on Monday night.”


UM EWWWWWWWWWWWWW! I already think it's weird that they wear the same clothes, only play 2 instruments, schedule time for attention from their mom (which is about 1-2 months apart), raise younger siblings and eat massive amounts of tater tot casserole, but their mom has a big ol calendar that charts her menstrual cycle that the kids watch?? It's one thing if you want your va jay jay to rival the size of a basketball hoop, but to involve the kids in the going on's of the monthly bloodbath, that's just disturbing. Do the girls have to write theirs down too? "Everyone, please help Jezebel with dinner. She has cramps because it's day 3 of her monthly period. Say it after me: 'P-E-R-I-O-D." Gag.

There is going to be a outcast, who will run away to Alabama and own a dog, have no kids, be a vegan, playing the saxophone, buying clothes at Target and write a tell all account of the daily fun back at the Quiverful compound. We all know I will buy that book.

Number 18 is on its way. Oh joy.

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