July 24, 2009: Still panicking.

The relentless grind continues at Let’s Panic headquarters. Sadly, one of us (we won’t say which one) is gallivanting around at some sort of “conference,” which is most likely code for “laudanum-fueled depravity.” That leaves only one of us (a.k.a. me) to do all the grueling, thankless work. And let me tell you, readers, it’s not as easy or glamorous as it appears. There are stock photos to be downloaded. “Copy” to be “written.” Meaningless quotation marks to be removed from said copy. Galley slaves to be vigorously whipped. AND I have a cold.

So while we, I mean I, toil (despite having a cold, which could be and probably is something far more serious and lethal), the other one, a.k.a. Eden, is pretending to network while she’s actually snorting oxycodone off of the freshly waxed chest of Gary, the Tide Detergent marketing rep.

At least I’m here. Thank God for me, I am sure you’re thinking. I mean, if I were also cavorting around the Windy City, doing whatever or having intercourse with who-knows-what, there would be no one to bring you this week’s features, and you would have no idea how to parent.

You’re welcome.

It’s especially important that I’m here this week, because today we’re spotlighting the most important information a pregnant woman will ever receive, ever. We’ve compiled all manner of information on the different kinds of doctors, midwives, and/or shamans you might employ to help you get that baby out into the world. You don’t want just anyone grabbing at your privates, after all, when you’re busy birthing.

Our second feature is all about your baby’s first month of out-of-the-womb living. What’s he thinking? Will he always look that misshapen? Will you ever sleep again? Is the diaper supposed to look that bunchy? You won’t know–until we tell you.

That’s it for now. I’m going to apply some chilled rum poultices to my sinuses, and pray for a speedy recovery. Tune in next week, when Eden returns–if she ever returns.

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