and other stuff they don't show on sitcoms

So I have a hemorrhoid.
Her name's Loretta.
I call her the gatekeeper.
She is to be feared and respected.
Every time I think I'm going to put the smack down, she reminds me who's boss.
Bratwurst.
Indian cuisine.
6 plums.
All in one day.
She still reigns supreme.

Waited until the 7-month-1-week mark to pop a stretch mark.
Tiny little thing. Adorable.
Named him Leroy.
Hoped he'd be the only one.
Then Lemar showed up.
...
Then Gordy.
Then Mandell.
And Justine. Oh, Justine. <--- Hate her.
Now those are all just tributaries on the treasure map that is my belly.

My fingers are Vienna Sausages.

And I've been (successfully) swaddling the cats.

Guess I'm ready?

I'd love to keep on, but I'm currently watching HBO's Eastbound and Down and someone just mentioned "I made my famous pumpkin margaritas in celebration of Fall" and I need to go vomit right quick.