Saturday, September 22, 2012
Whenever I hear stories about women who didn’t know they were pregnant and suddenly pop a baby out into the loo I cringe and wonder how those chicks could possibly be so fucking stupid. The changes that a body goes through during pregnancy are massive – so massive that it should be impossible to miss them. I would think that after missing a period for, say… I don’t know… four months, or experiencing the distinct feeling of a baby moving around – perhaps when it jams a foot into the ribcage – one would be like, “Okay, maybe I should look into this.”
It’s fucking ridiculous, and I can’t wrap my head around how it even happens. Nevertheless, I have a completely irrational fear of becoming one of those women, and that after talking so much shit I would have the same thing happen to me because The Fates can be total assholes sometimes. Despite being on birth control for years, I will randomly panic and NEED to take a pregnancy test at completely random times in order to sate my sudden paranoia. It’s because of this, and because of the fact that birth control is fucking expensive, that I am going in for tubal ligation this coming Tuesday.
Now, before I go on, let me clarify the difference between tubal ligation and hysterectomy, as I have had to do so several times already and really do not wish to do it again (though I get the feeling that I’ll probably have to…):
Tubal ligation is a surgical procedure for sterilization in which the fallopian tubes are clamped and blocked, or severed and sealed, in order to prevent eggs from reaching the uterus for fertilization. A hysterectomy is the partial or complete removal of the uterus.
So, as much as I despise my uterus (we have always had a very rocky relationship) I am keeping it – I’m just having it tweaked to better fit my needs. Of course, once my birth control clears my system, I’ll start having normal periods again, providing the sadistic son of a bitch an opportunity for revenge. (Is it weird that I’m anthropomorphizing my uterus??)
Because I’m going under the knife my mom will be flying in to help around the house (and with the kids, of course) as I recover from being slit open. I haven’t seen her in almost three years, so her two week stay is going to be quite… interesting – as her visits always are. I’m sure that we’ll start bickering at about the five day mark due to tons of unsolicited advice and overall personality conflicts. But at least she was willing to fly across the country to ensure that I would take it easy, even after I insisted that I could find a way to manage. You might be asking yourself, “Well, what about your husband?” Jeremy will be able to stay home with me for two days before having to go back to work; it’s an incredibly busy time, and he just can’t miss a whole lot at the office.
On a side note, I know that the recovery time for these things is typically only a couple of days, but I’m a goddamn delicate flower, and with my luck I’ll end up incapacitated for longer than expected because my body really does kind of hate me.
Anyhow, wish me luck folks. I reckon I’m going to need it.
If you follow me on Twitter, then you probably already know that I’ve landed a volunteer gig with the website Gaming Angels. I’m not going to lie: I’m really bummed about that whole lack of pay thing, as I was unaware of the addendum posted to the initial “We’re Hiring!” notice because I had already gone after the position and felt no need to check out the original post. Nevertheless, I wanted to do it, and so I am.
With that being said, I’m reposting my first article for them here (with a couple of minor tweaks in the form of a few handy-dandy links), as it was originally intended for this blog anyway. Enjoy, and don’t forget to look for some of my game-oriented ramblings (such as this bitchin' Hands-on of the RE6 demo) over there!
Zombies and Lickers and… Children?! Oh, my!
*Stop! Mild story spoilers for Resident Evil 5 (and possibly 6) ahead! If you haven’t yet played it, you have been warned!
A couple of months ago I had a very strange conversation with my then five-year old daughter: We sat at the kitchen table and discussed T-Virus versus C-Virus infection. Questions were asked and answered, some basic biology was discussed, and some rather adorable banter ensued. On the other side of us, my three-year old listened intently before enthusiastically asking me to play the E3 video of Leon Kennedy’s epic trek through the zombie-infested streets of Langshiang, China.
Yep; my kids are fully aware of the Resident Evil games, and they love them.
I know, I know – one of the cardinal rules of parenting is to never, ever, under any circumstances let your young children see any sort of violence or carnage, lest they become chainsaw wielding psychopaths. However, after a period of sustained horror and feelings of massive parental failure, I was hit with the realization that maybe the accidental exposure to RE wasn’t such a bad thing. My daughters entered the fray at a very cut scene heavy part of the game, which allowed the storyline to quickly overshadow the fact that I was balls deep in a never-ending sea of bloody, Plagas-infected mutations. The at times convoluted narrative sucked the girls in and they quickly became completely enamored by the cast – particularly the women. Sheva Alomar and Jill Valentine were kicking all kinds of ass, and they were just blown away. The older of my daughters – whom I shall refer to as Midget – could not take her eyes off of the last bit of Resident Evil 5′s Chapter 5-3. She was so awe-struck by Jill’s ability to take down her hulking bloke of a partner that she drew a P30 chest piece onto one of her drawings in what I assume was an effort to make the colorful little girl on the paper a badass.
|Left: Jill as pictured in Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3; Right: Midget's P30 drawing|
There’s another plus-side to the whole thing, and it’s that monsters in general don’t scare my daughters as much anymore. I mean, they are mildly freaked out by zombies (Midget moreso than her sister, Munchkin), but things like the Cephalo, Duvalia, and, now the J’avo? The slimy, randomly mutated bastards don’t really faze them; in fact, Munchkin tends to find them absolutely hilarious! (Which, okay, Duvalias kind of are, because honestly, what in the hell…?) This has translated into easier times during Halloween, when stores are teeming with costumes and animatronics that a lot of older kids find terrifying. Case in point, my eleven-year old nephew will get freaked out at the very sight of fake blood and/or certain types of props. Meanwhile the girls will enthusiastically request to go to the “Halloween Store” whenever possible, and have helped to pick out some of our creepier decorations.
Now, does the fact that I let my daughters see me play Resident Evil games translate to me being completely lax in the types of things that I allow them to witness? Absolutely not! There have been numerous times in which I have asked them to close their eyes or leave the room altogether and they have done so without question. With that being said, the release of RE6 is now only a couple of weeks away, and I do intend to let my daughters sit down and watch me play bits of it – particularly any segments featuring Sherry Birkin or Ada Wong, whom they have taken a keen interest in.
However, I can tell you now that some big chunks of Leon’s campaign are going to be completely off-limits, as I draw the line at excessively brutal gore-fests and overtly sexual spider-bitches.