Yeah, it just takes time. On the plus side, she wants the way her body looked pre-pregnancy fully documented (she is pretty vain), so we now have gigs of nudie pics.
You should turn some into giant life sized portraits and display them around the house. That won't fuck your kid up at all.
Do a full body sculpture of her. Tell the kids it's a reproduction Greco-Roman statue. IT'S ART. Kids will believe anything. And there's nothing wrong with a woman's naked body. When you start telling them there is, that's when you start fucking them up.
Anyone other than me thinks the husband should do a paternity test after the birth of this fourth child?
I think the fact that she specifically offered up info about the vasectomy and seemed stressed out shows that isn't what happened. I bet extra pressure from her husband thinking about paternity testing also adds to her stress. Also, not that your job precludes you from cheating, but she's a teacher who travels the next town over to teach during covid. I have been thinking about her all day. She's coming next week to pick up multiple trash bags of baby clothes, sleep sacks, and other infant gear. I can't help but feel anything but empathy for whatever she's going through right now. If anything he needs to get his swimmers tested.
My Saturday started at 3 a.m. because sure, brain, why not? Shacked up with a girl whose dog is needy (she isn't exactly Miss Independence herself), so my allergies went Defcon FU. I was in the gym (yay back pain!) and dropped my phone, y'know the one with $100 worth of case and screen protectors on it? Cue a $300 repair bill, and I went ahead and got a new one anyway for $1200 (and another $100 in screen protector and case, since that last investment panned out so well). In figuring out the repair of old phone, the smart switch got fucked up, so that process took 3 hours to complete, somehow. Thanks, Latina girl who didn't understand "Don't Disconnect This Wire" at the screen repair shop. Also, why the fuck don't new phones come charged? Out of the box, 17% battery, with no charger, headphones, or USB cable.... That horse shit sorted, I'm off to buy a bike about an hour away. Good deal on a Ducati Monster, but...suspiciously near the 18k mark, which requires a valve service. This service can run up to $3k, and thanks to COVID, only two places in the entire DMV can do it, each an hour away, and each booked up for weeks. Dealership Douche Doug said, "no worries, that service was done by the previous owner." He did a service that runs at least $1k, takes a solid chunk of time to get done and can easily escalate to $2-3k....1000 miles before it's due on a bike he sold? Mmmkay, show me that paperwork and we have a deal. "Well, um, ah....let me call him." An awkward 30 minutes of sitting in the finance office waiting on the previous owner to email some paperwork, and....yeah, nope. This bike has about 120 miles before it's due for a major service. Also, the "good" shop to get the work done isn't the one on any of the paperwork, and this bike had the rear brakes bled and redone twice in 3 years of ownership...DDD said "it says on (shop website) valve work on Ducatis will run $400 so we can knock off $400 for you." Called the shop myself, and that job starts at $900, and I laughed out loud at 'valve work on Ducatis runs $400'. No tit-fucker, it costs $400 to get them to open the valves and see them, not to actually touch them. Fine, walked away. Drive another hour through inexplicable DC traffic, miss the first quarter of the Bengals game, make steaks, and prepare for GB game. Girl is a health nut, so we have kombucha. 20 minutes later, my gut sounds like Krakatoa, and I miss most of the 1st quarter of the GB game shitting what I can only assume are chunky parts of my soul. Lovely that sound carries through her house so well I could hear her dog panting in the other room, clearly concerned for my health. I knew I had nothing else to emit when a fart came out of me that was loud enough to signal the beginning of a round of Mortal Kombat. So, awake and scrambling since 3 a.m., nothing in my stomach, wallet enthusiastically emptied, back filled with knives and needles, wheezing and sneezing like a trekkie in a hay barn snorting pollen, she wants to have sex, not understanding this is a PLAYOFF GAME, and possibly the last time GB has a competent quarterback. I question the judgement of anyone who over heard this helicopter crash of a fart and still wants to bone, go down on her while watching the game and manage to somehow watch GB lose, sneeze and cough my way into blue balls and my body somehow found the need to shit more. I stayed awake 20 hours to see Jimmy fucking Garrapolo win another playoff game against all logic and in defiance of the laws of talent, God and man. Fuck this fucking fuck.
There's a technical reason for this. Lithium batteries don't store well at 100% charge, they maintain their health best when stored below 40%, so typically they are stocked around that percentage, and there is a slow discharge over time while they're idle. 17% is low but not crazy. But uh, you can't breathe and want to watch a football game and your solution was... going down on her? There weren't any other options you considered?
Yep. So much so that newer laptops even analyze your actual battery use, and if you are always plugged into power and using your laptop as a desktop, it'll intentionally keep your battery charge way lower than 100% in order to increase the battery life. So be aware of that... if you're going to use your laptop as a laptop for the first time in a long time, and are expecting a full battery, you probably won't have one unless you tell it "hey, stop being too smart, charge the battery all the way". For example, this laptop I'm using hardly ever gets unplugged:
Agreed. Rookie error on not doing it doggie style while watching Rodgers blow another playoff game against SF.
I'm just saying that maybe there were superior positions for a TV-watching asthmatic than burying his face between her legs.
Maybe he wanted to go out doing what he loved? Man's just trying to lick the bucket over here and you're kink-shaming him...
I fully support everyone's right to choose death by asphyxiation while wearing their partner like a feed bag. The post just didn't seem to be made in that tone. But what do I know? Maybe the "blue balls" were the fact that he lived through it. We need additional clarification.