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The Weekend Update: Tales from a Keg Party & Maternity Ward Tour

Candy's Column

The Weekend Update: Tales from a Keg Party & Maternity Ward Tour

(Keg parties and maternity ward tours:   often go hand-in-hand)


I generously provided taxi service for Mr. Candy to and from our friends’ keg party, where my nine-month-pregnant stomach also conveniently served as a tray for Mr. Candy’s beer:

Sharply focused picture courtesy of a VIG (Very Inebriated Guest)

I know, I know… I should have left him on the spot.  But I am a sucker for a man who drinks PBR from a brown paper bag once the keg is tapped!  *SIGH*  That romantic always knows how to reel me back in.


Mr. Candy and I took a tour of the maternity ward at Cedars-Sinai Hospital, where I’m giving birth in — *GULP* — less than a month.  I know what you’re thinking and, YES, of course I will be in a VIP maternity suite next to Nicole Richie’s.  I feel a little bad for her, though.   Once news of MY baby gets out, no one will give her pregnancy a second thought.  Poor thing.  I’ll have to make it up to her by sending an autographed copy of my Us Weekly cover announcing “HOW I GOT MY BODY BACK!” when it comes out two weeks after delivery.

Actually, the labor and recovery rooms for us commoners aren’t too shabby either:  some of them have gorgeous, expansive views of the Hollywood Hills.  At least that’s what my husband tells me, because I was too busy trying to stop the room from spinning to pay any attention to the damn Hills.  As soon as our tour guide showed us The Spot, the exact spot where I would SPREAD MY LEGS AND PUSH THE BABY FROM MY VAGINA, I almost fainted.  How.  Embarrassing.  Mr. Candy immediately recognized the the blood-drained-from-my-face look that said “OH, DEAR GOD!  I’M GOING TO PASS OUT!” and helped my wimpy ass sit down while tenderly rubbing my back.

This is why I keep him around.

After the tour, the guide came up to me and smiled, “I saw you got emotional, honey.  That’s so sweet!”

Um, yeah.  Emotional!  That’s the ticket.

Praise the heavens for epidurals.  And romantic post-delivery paper-wrapped PBRs with my hubby.

Sidebar:  Contrary to what my mom thought, I did not embellish a single detail in the tale about the maternity ward tour.  I am, in fact, that much of a pussy.

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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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