Reading the acknowledgements I was elated to see the author thanked Augusten Burroughs for his work and the inspiration that he has provided. My re”birth” into bibliophilia (yes it’s a disease) was brought on by reading Burroughs’ memoir Dry, and eventually his other book’s Running With Scissors, and You Better Not Cry. Their was much appreciation for his no holds barred approach to writing and was anticipating the same in the author’s honest account of pregnancy. I was not let down.
“If I threw a Frisbee at her head, she would be left with two choices: take a Frisbee in the face or have a baby.”
“Nothing says “I hold my gun sideways” like a bad face tattoo.”
With regards to the book, let me tell you this book is funny. Not side-splitting-wake-up-the-neighbours-next-door-funny, but perpetual-smile-on-my-face-while-reading-funny. Unfortunately for me I find few things humorous so when I come across something with that is agreeable to me in that nature I relish it. If it’s not overweight men falling off ladders or passionate big-eyed Chihuahua’s dancing the meringue, my chance for laughter is few and far between. Congratulations are in order for writing an honest, funny, and heart-warming book with the right amount of testosterone to attempt to balance out the hormonal pregnancy bookshelves. One of the funnier moments was realized in church of all places. Being born a Catholic boy I have experienced the dryness of church. If the sermons are not adapted to the minds of youngsters, the adoption of the author’s church habits would definitely make the time go by faster, all the while committing infractions found in the good book.
While reading the book in the second chapter called “The Baby Cave” the doctor referred to the baby as “it”. My parenting teacher (if reasoning is needed, I was one of two guys in that class, the amount of tail was immense) from secondary school would have torn a strip off that doctor for referring to a child as a thing, a he or she yes, but not an it. Perhaps the author’s self-addressed “supersperm” and mild case of hypertrichosis struck fear in the doctor so the benefit of the doubt is in order.
For about six years now I have been patiently waiting for the age when I simply don’t care anymore about the thoughts of people around me and I can be my true self 100% of the time. Where I can freely scratch myself in public, sing loudly to Leona Lewis at karaoke, embrace my love of prunes, liver and onions, and can finally take the guilt out of my pleasure of watching Dancing With The Stars. When will this landmark event occur? While thinking it over I have come to the conclusion that entrance into fatherhood will expedite the transition. But, parents are boring, their corny, along with having a kid it looks like they also received a lobotomy in a BOGO free, or a two for one deal. How can you explain the popularity of a comedic atrocity otherwise known as The Ellen Show among the white suburban housewife demographic or the utter crap that is Two and a Half Men. Personally I blame the children for making their parents eternally happy and I look forward to taking part in the circle of life, but when I get there Ellen better be off the air. No offence.
I recommend this book to new parents, old parents, and people that are not easily offended.
Question for James, where you watching Bellator Mixed Martial Arts when you and your wife were discussing potential baby names? The thought of Mercedes and Jade as my own daughter is a nightmare of mine. Knowing how guys are, I hope for your sake that it doesn’t come back to haunt you:)