Well tomorrow Crissy goes to the Taco Doctor to see if her cervix is doing anything interesting and if Crissy were a gamblin’ woman she’d bet that the answer will be “no” and she’ll cry a little bit inside because really?
Crissy is all set with the knocked up-ness.
A little dilation would give her hope that something is going to happen at some point and that no. Crissy will not be pregnant forever.
But she feels like she will be and she was just telling her friend Stoogie about how she really wants a drinkie and then she’d like to get thrown all over her bed and fucked eight ways to Sunday.
Funny, the things you miss the most…hangovers and a sore crotchal area.
You know what else Crissy misses the most?
Being able to do things for herself.
Last night, Mister had to paint Crissy’s toes because she just couldn’t reach them comfortably because the damn belly is in the way and no matter what sort of strategery she employed, she just couldn’t get there for long enough with a steady hand to paint her toes in a manner that didn’t look like she had painted them with, well, her feet.
And you know what else?
Crissy hasn’t been able to shave her own noonie for the past two months and so Mister has been doing that for her too. She hasn’t even seen her noonie and she’s worried about it.
What if it’s different? What if Crissy’s pretty little noonie is all wrong now? That would be terrible.
So anyways, Crissy has heard that semen can help a cervix soften and dilate but it takes a lot of it and poor Mister really isn’t up for producing gallons of the stuff and so Crissy is asking the boy Queefs to help her out. She thought of going around her neighborhood with a collection cup but then she remembered that she lives in an idiot colony and she doesn’t want any idiot semen, just smart semen thanks, and so she’s asking all the boy Queefs who clearly are smart because they read Crissy’s blog to save a tree and let the cup be your dream catcher for a day.
You can email Crissy for an address to send it to.
Thank you in advance, boy Queefs.
Crissy knows you won’t let her down and she’s looking into getting some sort of receipt for you so you can put your donation on your taxes next year.
- For This is the Day The Lord Has Made, Let Us Rejoice and Be Glad
- Nobody was maimed, poisoned, or killed. You should look at these pictures or whatever.
- You stay classy, Crissy.
- The Closet Under The Stairs
- Okay so maybe I *do* have a life, sometimes. Like, a couple times a year.