Yes, I Have One (supremegoddess1) wrote in metaquotes,
Yes, I Have One
supremegoddess1
metaquotes

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crevette continues her ongoing war with her reproductive organs:

Memo

To:
Irene's Uterus
From: Irene
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: IMMEDIATE

Uterus:

It has come to my attention that you are preparing to start your normal monthly functioning. You might ask how I have become aware of this. I would be compelled to answer that since my pants no longer fit, my breasts hurt to be looked at--even indirectly and through the mirror's reflection on an off-hand side--and the fact that I am eating everything in the house that has not been nailed down, I have a sneaking suspicion that you are gearing up for an old-fashioned, boy-howdie hoe down.

I understand that this is part of your normal functioning. I realize that this must be done. Even if we don't see eye to eye on the method of how you do this, I realize that the end result is necessary to my health and welfare. I appreciate you doing so much to keep my body running smoothly. I really do.

That said, I'm leaving for Vegas on Friday morning. I'd really like to be able to have this all over and done with before I get on the plane. I don't think it's too much to ask for, really. I mean, it's a wedding for Chrissake. I shouldn't have to spend one of my dearest and most precious friend's wedding curled up into a fetal pain-warding position with what feels like a live sheep stuffed between my thighs. Do a girl a solid. Just get this over with, with ya?

Thanks for your (in)consideration.

Irene

******

Memo

To:
Irene
From: Irene's Uterus
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: IMMEDIATE, in your dreams.

Irene,

Thanks for the lovely letter. I always enjoy hearing from you. Your snarky little comments always make my day. Really.

As for your request, I must refer you to the employee handbook of Irene's Body, chapter 7, REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS subsection 4A1 (and with special attention to 4A2) which states in part, and I quote:

4: In order to keep Irene's body in fit aerobic condition and her mind in complete and utter clarity, Female Reproductive Organs (Henceforth called FROs) are empowered to deviate from the aforementioned 28 day cycle at a moment's notice "as needed". "As needed" is listed, but not limited to below.

A. Any time Irene finds herself in:

1. A foreign country, city, timezone. A foreign OR domestic person's house, as long as it is not her own. A special occasion such as a wedding, funeral, baptism, Bar Mitzvah, Bat Mitzvah, First Communion, Confirmation, State of Clear Ceremony, Neighborhood Block Party, run to the liqour store--whether everyone is foreign or not.

2. An airplane bathroom. Be sure that this is a minimum of at least a three hour flight, that alcohol is not served on this flight, and that the bathroom is so small that the only way she can possibly insert a tampon is either by opening the door and putting one ankle on the stewardess's shoulder or by reclining spread eagle on the sink and bracing her Labia Majora against the far wall to wait for the proper amount of turbulence to push that Platex puppy in.


As you can see, I'm functioning perfectly within my guidelines, and I'm doing in in your best interests. I'm sorry I can't help you, but everything I do, I do for you.

Looking forward to painting the town red with you,

Uterus.

******

Memo

To:
Irene's Uterus
From: Irene
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: IMMEDIATE!!! LIKE NOW!!!

Uterus, or would that be BITCH:

I'm serious. The last thing I need is for you to kick into high gear at 30,000 feet. Not only am I looking at the logistical problems of packing that many female hygeine products in with my laptop and DVDs, (and probably having them all fall out when I pull out my laptop to be Xrayed) but also the simple fact that with the mood you put me in I'm likely to be mistaken for a surly terrorist type. Even if I make it through the patdown without tearing off some poor TSA employee's head, I'll probably end up being shot by an Air Marshal as I run screaming to the bathroom at the front of the plane with blood gushing out like a broken sprinkler head. I don't see how that helps you maintain my functioning in any way, shape or form.

Please reconsider. I really, really want to enjoy myself in Vegas.

Irene

*******

Memo

To:
Irene
From: Irene's Uterus
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: Not really.

Irene:

My, what an overactive imagination you have. If I recall correctly, you LIKE getting stripsearched and the patdowns count as foreplay for your skank ass.

You need to just accept that I *AM* going to Vegas with you, and I *AM* going to be discharging not only my duties but several gallons of viscous blood with the occasional Texas sized chunk for variety. I can't help it if you like the window seats on the planes. It's not my fault that you pen yourself in. You'd think you'd have learned by now to take the aisle, you dumb bitch.

And look at it this way: I'm your perfect Vegas partner, not janesy. Play Roulette and bet on red. Even if the ball lands on black, it'll be red before I get done with it. EVERYTHING will be red. It'll be fun AND profitable.

And I've always wanted to spend quality time with you, Irene. You and me at the Grand Canyon together. Just how bitchin' is that? So what if you're only allowed an 8x11 bag with you for security reasons. You'll just have to McGuyver feminine hygiene products the way the ancient Native American tribes did. Surely you're up for the Spirit Quest that awaits!

And let's just say that your spouse major_thom4321 will be ECSTATIC that you and I are taking this time to bond away from home. He'll be so pleased that we're not home... I mean that we'll be off on grand adventures together... BONDING. We'll be Blood Brothers. Hermanos. Bestest Buds ever.

Really, I think you're overreacting. I'm not even that upset with you for doing that ten mile bike ride yesterday and trying to bounce me out. By the way, that's anatomically impossible, not that you've read anything containing female anatomy since you've gotten hooked on Orlando Bloom fanfic.

So let's get through this together,

Love and Kisses,

uterus


**************

To: Irene's Uterus
From: Irene
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: I hate you.

Uterus, or as I call you to myself, "You God Damned Fucking Piece of Fucking Wasted Muscle Shit Face Doucheweasel Cuntbubble Assclown Bitch":

I hate you. I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns. I hate you beyond all hating things. I don't need you. I've had my baby. I'm ready to stop production ANY TIME NOW and you just don't seem to be getting the hint that the lease you signed when you moved into my body is up and I am going to start legal proceedings to EVICT YOUR ASS.

I swear to you I am going to find some way to get you removed, even if I have to go through my left nostril with a coathanger.

GRRR!

Irene


PS. I HATE YOU.


************

Memo

To:
Irene
From: Irene's Uterus
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: Not really.

Irene:


Awww. Is poor Booba getting mad? Aww. Poor widdle booba is kicking her feet and having a fit because she doesn't want me to go to Vegas with her and make her all hurting and bloody and messy and smelly? Poor widdle booba.

Go on. Cry for me, Bitch. Cry.

Your tears warm the cockles of my heart. I live for your pain. Your agony gives me joy. If I had fingers, I'd be fingering myself right now.

Gods, I love my job.

Needing a cold shower now,

Uterus.

************

To: Irene's Uterus
From: Irene
RE: Vegas Trip
Urgency: I hate you.

Uterus:

... .... .... ... Fine. But you sleep on the floor. And if you snore, your ass is sleeping in the bathtub.

Bitch.

Still hating you,


Irene

Sorry for the length, but the entire post truly was meta worthy. QWP, and context here
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