Dad Week at GQ.com: 10 Horrible Gross Things They Don’t Tell You About the Delivery Room

delivery-room

.

GQ — There are more books about the wondrous, gross miracle of childbirth than there are celebrity organic cookbooks, inspirational-quote compilations, and terrible softcore mom-porn novels PUT TOGETHER. Yeah, it’s a lot. Let everyone else read the encyclopedias. Here’s a sneak preview for what will be a very curious few hours.

1. You will look. Oh, you’ll not want to look. You’ll want to avoid and eschew looking. You’ll want to hide behind the couch and cover your eyes like the first time you saw the end of Raiders. Thousands of years of primordial evolutionary instincts will all align in your brain, forming a united front like soldiers at a castle siege shouting, “You DO NOT KNOW what hideous terrors lurk in a location you usually enjoy visiting.” But you will look. You will look because you’re a grownup, and a father, and that is your baby’s mother, albeit not exactly presented in a way you might initially recognize. Also, you kind of can’t not look—it’s not like there’s anything more interesting happening in the room.

The full and slightly gooey list over at GQ.com.
.
.

More from Dad Week:

.

.


Oh Sure, Like You’ve Never Watched a Cow Give Birth With Your Sons Before (via The Mid)

JUST PRODUCING A CALF, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

JUST PRODUCING A CALF, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

.

The Mid — GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING: This piece contains explicit descriptions of cow birth, but trust me when I say that though they’re all true, detailed and kind of slidey, reading them is not nearly as bad as BEING 10 FEET AWAY FROM A LIVE COW GIVING BIRTH. So everyone just relax.

Indeed, on purpose, with my own eyes and with a mind toward “experiencing nature” (or whatever nonsense you tell yourself when you’re about to witness something grody for no practical purpose), I recently watched a large cow deliver another smaller but still pretty large cow. I realize that most readers here have either witnessed or starred in the production of another human being, and as of press time I’ve only done the former, but I’m pretty sure the cow version is much funkier. Much.

The actual gross birth happens over at The Mid.

.

.

.


My Son Tends to Vanish Into the Wilderness a Lot (via The Mid)

vanish into the wilderness

JUST KEEP GOING, IT’S NOT LIKE THERE ARE BEARS AROUND HERE OR ANYTHING.

.

The Mid — The thing about losing your child in an unfamiliar state park is how it hones your senses. Everything else falls away—everything. The scenery, the green, the humming of the birds, the voices of the other hikers. It all collapses, slips off black edges in your peripheral vision, so your mind and your instincts can focus on one thought, just one crucial thought: When I find him, I am going to kill him. 

I mean, we didn’t lose him lose him, in the sense that he was gone for days, or even hours. It was maybe 40 minutes, tops, although it’s hard to tell because time stands still when you’re tromping through riverbeds and into small valleys and over fallen logs muttering a near-constant torrent of curse words. There were four of us: me, my wife, our effervescent and adventurous 11-year-old and his much wobblier, less calibrated 3-year-old brother. If you’ve ever gone hiking, or walked on a beach, or in a parking lot, or in your house, you know it’s not easy to keep a party of children together, especially one of varying ages. So we came to a spot that required some climbing, and the 11-year-old went first, leaving the three of us behind. And apparently this is where there was some miscommunication: Where we said, “Wait for us at the top,” he heard, “Please wander off alone into the forest, and if you could take the bag with the water bottles, that’d be great.”

(We find him over on The Mid.)

.

.

.

 

Relax, Everyone, That’s Not Rain, It’s Just Spiders (via The Mid)

spider-blanket

Yeah, that’s not snow. You cannot imagine how much I hate this picture right now.

The Mid — You guys can worry about your global warming and your melting polar ice caps and all those asteroids aiming at us from space, but it’s raining spiders in Australia so it’s pretty clear we need to start vacating the planet immediately, find another one like those nice people in Interstellar and those equally nice but gelatinous people in WALL-E.

To recap: It’s raining spiders. I’m a grown man with a beautiful wife, two kids, a financial planner for some reason, hotel rewards cards, stove-cleaning solution and a Honda, and I am not ashamed to say that the idea of spiders raining down from the sky makes me want to crawl into a kangaroo pouch or hide under a kookaburra or whatever the hell you do to escape raining death in Australia.

.
.

Blowing Stuff Up, For Science: My 11-Year-Old and I Interview Adam Savage of ‘MythBusters’

18jcgug1hx53qjpg

Jamie Hyneman (left) and Adam Savage (right, airborne).

.

Indy Star — Because an 11-year-old and 3-year-old live in it, our house generally has pretty strict rules about TV. But because we’re reasonable parents, we tend to waive those rules under appropriate circumstances, such as whenever the kids feel like watching two dudes in San Francisco blow up some garbage trucks.

If our TV is on, it’s highly plausible that it’s on to “MythBusters,” the Discovery Channel science phenomenon/fireball factory that stars Adam Savage and (’81 IU grad) Jamie Hyneman. There’s plenty to watch: Over the course of 14 seasons, the team has produced nearly 260 episodes, tackled 900-some experiments, crashed 7.6 million cars (that’s a guess, but I’m confident I’m close), created one massive orange water slide, dropped numerous vehicles out of the sky, strapped military-grade rockets to three mild-mannered cars, encased a fake Luke Skywalker in a simulated tauntaun, and sent an exploding water heater skyward for a full 15 seconds. Frankly I don’t know why every 11-year-old on the planet doesn’t watch this show, except maybe for all the RPGs. (Helicopter parents, am I right?) “Can we watch a boom one?” my 3-year-old asks when I grab the remote, bounding up and down on his socks. “I like the boom ones.”

So to preview the MythBusters’ live show in Indianapolis, Savage was good enough to field questions from my much more knowledgable 11-year-old associate.

Read the full interview at the Indy Star.

.

.

.

.


The Seven Worst Ways to Lose Weight in 2015 (GQ)

gq-fitness-worst-ways-to-lose-weight-workouts[1]

Pictured: Not me.

.

GQ – There are lots of ways to lose weight these days. You could clamp off part of your stomach, take up ultra-marathoning, or sample any number of chemical shakes, cocktails, medications, injections, pudding cups, synthetic meals or genetically modified livestock. You could also burn off more calories than you consume, but who has time for that noise when we live in the future?

Yes, we are an endlessly inventive and profoundly lazy species, one that—in defiance of hundreds of years of science and medical analysis—believes it’s possible to stand motionless on a vibrating plate and become Chris Hemsworth. But this year, we’re resolving not to try these preposterously trendy weight-loss methods.

.

.

.


There’s a Right Way to Put Your Dog to Sleep (GQ)

theres-a-right-way-to-put-your-dog-to-sleep-jeff-vrabel

The author (in black), his brother and Cutty, circa 1991, judging by our oversized Ocean Pacific shirts, probably

.GQ — Despite the name they gave my dog, my parents were not alcoholics. Far from it. I’m not sure we actually had any booze in the house when I was a kid, and if we did it was probably in a Notre Dame commemorative placekicker bottle, purchased from Service Merchandise with a coupon. We did have a Scotch terrier mix though, and her name was Cutty. Cutty Sark. Like the Scotch.

Cutty was an adorable and slobbery wet mop known for her thick black fur, dragon breath, and scant bladder control. (Seriously, best dog ever, but if you’d brought one of those hotel-room black lights to our carpet, you would have seen nothing but a minefield of long-dried puddles. If I’d had girls over, it would have been a problem. It was not a problem.)

There was a lot to like about Cutty: She could smile on command (though it might have been a growl; dog expressions kind of all run together), she could catch mice (which came in handy when you live in a 400-year-old house on some county road in Indiana), and she could consume an entire box of twelve chocolate Santas in one sitting, although the subsequent 24 hours are something I’d like to forget. And without going all Charlie Brown-and-his-Snoopy on you she was a loyal and often damp friend to me for nearly 15 years, which is probably why it fell to me to put her down.

Read the full story here.

.

.

.


The 10 Worst Couples You’ll See at the Gym (GQ)

1420469154272_01_marathon copy

.

GQ — Welcome to January! If you’re like us, you spent the entire last month alternating between platefuls of Honey Baked Ham and a forest’s worth of peppermint bark—which now means ’tis the season for panic-stricken exercise.  And with that newfound motivation comes the temptation to bring your significant other along for a good public workout. That’s fine in theory, but it can go wrong in so many different ways. Next time you’re at the weight-bench, running-trail, cardio-mambo class or whatever, look around and see how many of these gross generalizations are sweatin’ to the oldies next to you. And then make sure you’re not one of them yourself.


12 Kids’ Book Characters Who Are Not To Be Trusted (NickMom)

character-revise-new-article

.

NickMom — Yeah, don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.

The full version over at NickMom.

.

.

.


12-Month Tuneup: Home Sweet Disgusting Home (GQ)

cleanhomeGQ — Don’t panic, but right now, in your own cozy house, you’re probably breathing polluted air, eating off bacteria-laced dishes, and sleeping in an invisible pile of dust-mite crap. It’s gross, and it may be hurting your health—but it’s also easy enough to fix, once you know how. 

.

Also in the 12-Month Body Tuneup series:

.

.

.


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 7,055 other followers

%d bloggers like this: