Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Birth of Tits (Part 1)

So typically around my birthday I post my list of accomplishments. Well fuck that shit this year, I'm going old school and telling you about the day i was born. This story is true to the best of my knowledge, although I'm sure my mom will tell me i got something wrong.

I was born {Coyote Rose Tits} on May 5th at some ungodly time like 3:15 in the morning, but lets rewind to several hours prior to this cataclysmic event. My sixteen-year-old unwed mother (Yep, my mom was the original teen mom y'all) was traipsing around my grandparent’s house in Avenel, New Jersey.  For those of you who have never heard of Avenel, which is just about everybody, it’s in the northern parts of New Jersey not that far from New York City. It’s also the kind of town no one gets out of without a drug habit, an underage pregnancy or getting busted by the cops. My family actually pulled the rare Avenel trifecta and had all three, but I digress.
Doesn't my dad look like a dirty hippie?

My mom was traipsing around making a chocolate cake, because she was 8 months pregnant and you don’t really need more of an excuse than that. My mom’s diet when she was pregnant with me consisted of French fries with brown gravy and chocolate. I blame her for my addiction to them both to this day. Anyways, it was close to midnight and she was frosting this cake when her water broke a month early. Now any normal pregnant sixteen year old would freak out that her water broke, but not my mom she downed 3/4ths of a chocolate cake before going to tell my grandmother that she was in labor. Why did she eat this cake, you might ask? Because the doctors told her she was going to have to have a c-section and she didn’t want them have an ugly scar.


Let me explain: in the 1980s when a woman had a c-section they cut her from navel-to-crotch unless they had eaten in the few hours prior then the doctors cut from hip-to-hip. My mother being the crafty sixteen year old she was didn’t want to have a scar running from her navel for the rest of her life, cause that would ruin bikini season and all, so she ate a chocolate cake so that the doctors would have to cut horizontally instead.

So here I am being all “hey bitch I’m ready to be out of your stomach now” and she’s pigging out on cake.

 Coming Up: How my Dad missed my Birth and Imaginary Best Friends
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