My brain has been hibernating due to too much internet scrolling, but it has awakened with a bang, thanks to the discovery of an Adult Diaper Spa. Just linger on those three words. They are so incongruous and dissonant. And yet they are the portal to true insanity, not that I want to be judgemental or shaming in any way. I just had no idea!

I knew there were guys who liked wearing onesies, and I even remember looking at a website for adult size cribs. But this is a whole other thing.

This is not just a Diaper Spa, but also a Diaper Salon, Ageplay Spa, and Diaper B&B. It is run by Dr Murphy a neurodivergent M.D. who is also a “trauma-informed intimacy and relationship coach.” At the spa,

you can openly express yourself and partake of your favorite activities, meals, snacks, and nurturing. Activities range from playtime, story time, nap time, cuddle time, changing time, coloring, nursery rhymes, and sing-a-longs.

In the summer, you can play with your water wings and floaties poolside, picnic under the tree with your teddy bear, play marbles on the patio, or swing on the front porch swing and serve tea to your dollies on the porch. In the winter, we can make snow angels, build snowmen, drink hot cocoa from beneath clouds of whipped cream and sprinkles, and decorate gingerbread men or sugar cookies.

You get the idea. Who are these big babies? Are they the leaders of  government and industry? I have a feeling that these babies are mostly male, if I may be so binary. I think society already treats women like helpless babies, so it’s a less transgressive or appealing notion. I wonder if the spa offers spanking and scolding, or if that’s a different form of “play?”

The spa has everything a big baby needs, but you are welcome to bring your own blankie, stuffie, or onesie.  For $300 an hour, you get “a spa-like nursery experience for the little one inside of you, providing a warm, safe, and nurturing environment while you indulge in relaxation and self-care. Minimum session: 2 hours.” It’s $1,500 for a 24 hour Diaper sleep-over.

As I read this shit with an increasing sense of, ahem, wonder, I started to imagine being a cherished baby…I mean, it’s probably nice, right? I have no memories of my early childhood, except for my mom yelling and my sister torturing me. But by loving and caring for my own babies, I feel I’ve corrected that loss. While it’s awful to be an adult, it seems preferable to being infantilized, even by choice.

I guess it’s nice to indulge in your deepest fantasy, but aren’t some fantasies best left inside your head? Mine aren’t that interesting, and aren’t worth acting out in a pricey fake environment. Isn’t that what husbands are for?

Do they have fake farms or racetracks for people who like to do Pony Play? Uh-oh, I just googled it and they do! This place welcomes Ponies, Trainers, Handlers, Grooms, teams of Pony/Trainers and all those who love them.

I am open-minded enough to want everyone to be happy and sexually fulfilled, I just don’t want to find out about it.

Changing the subject, how many times have you seen a TV couple having urgent sex on the sink counter or standing up against a wall? It’s crazy! Now I groan each time I see this, and sometimes yell, “USE THE BED!” I watch so much TV now that I can tell what every character is about to do. I can often say the line before the actor does, which is simultaneously satisfying and disappointing.

Okay then. Thoughts or enraged complaints, anyone?

I have the perfect business concept for anyone who wants to finance it: Baby Cafe!

I think it’s self-explanatory but in case you’re picturing a cafe that serves Babies on Toast or something, no, it will be like a Cat Cafe, only with babies to cuddle instead of cats.

WHY DON’T WE HAVE THESE ALREADY?

Baby Cafes would not only bring joy to baby aficionados, they would provide respite and income to stressed-out new mothers. They would ensure that babies receive the tactile affection so necessary for emotional health. They are a win win win!

I think the employees should wear crisp white vintage nurse uniforms, for  an aesthetic that says Clean, Safe, and Professional.  Employees would have to be bonded, obviously.

Patrons would first wash their hands before being seated.

The babies would be laying in nice wicker baskets or maybe little fake cabbage patch gardens.

Patrons will get to wrap the babies in little blankies, feed them with little bottles of their mommies’ milk, burp them, and play simple baby games like One Little Piggy Went To Market. The employees will be available for diaper changes.

Listen, I’m not the only person who craves babies. I know plenty other women and girls who go nuts at the sight of a baby. We just want to hold them and smell them and stroke their little heads. We want to pick out the lint between their toes. You know why?

Because we are fucking mammals, that’s why.

Cat Cafes started in Taiwan and spread to Korea and Tokyo before showing up in Europe and the US.  At first, I found them intriguing but having seen pictures, I am now pretty disgusted. Cats are destructive predators even though you are so mad I just said that.

Cats prey on endangered birds and were once classified as vermin. They carry a parasite  that can lead to schizophrenia in humans. Their tainted feces can be deadly to other animals and we all know they are dangerous to pregnant women and people with suppressed immune systems.

Does this look appetizing?

If you answered yes, just go away now. We’ll never understand each other.

The time is ripe for Baby Cafe. Think of the millennials who love their cold brewed coffee and don’t have time to have children because they’re busy taking selfies and Ubers. They don’t want to own houses or cars or start families because they don’t even like their own families.

But babies are cute and adorable and lower your blood pressure and help to fulfill a biological drive that technology has not yet entirely extinguished.

Babies are everything.

The other day, my husband was playing some boring dirge-like music in the car, and I quietly sang along, repeating the word “babies” through every tune. It was entertaining for one of us, let me tell you.

Okay then. Baby Cafe: Who’s in?

Some guy who’s going to host a TV show has just caused a huge fit of umbrage because he once tweeted about ‘fat chicks’ and made a joke about Jews. How dare he! People are arguing about whether he deserves to host a TV show.

Prepare yourself for an endless witch-hunt if this shit goes on. Nobody will be allowed to say anything that might be objectionable to anyone.

The subjects of gender and sexuality are already so fraught with potholes of political incorrectness, it’s not worth getting involved. If you use the wrong word for transgender, you’re just a big mean homophobe. The Fat-Shaming thing is a variation we have already discussed here.

I’m wondering if this is the result of social media and internet trolling, or if it’s a natural consequence of liberalism. Being progressive now means being constantly indignant. When did everyone become such big babies?

I’ve been reading about the problem of free speech on college campuses, and the absurd level of sensitivity that students now require. There is a controversial ‘Trigger Warning Movement‘ afoot. You have to be careful not to ‘trigger’ someone by talking about rape or racism. You have to make sure everyone feels ‘safe.’ It’s like there are only two factions, bullies and victims, and if you’re not one, you’re the other.

Oberlin’s faculty members are advised to:

“[u]nderstand triggers, avoid unnecessary triggers, and provide trigger warnings.”

Triggers are something that:

“recalls a traumatic event to an individual, and experiencing a trigger will almost always disrupt a student’s learning and may make some students feel unsafe in your classroom.”

Now, here’s the juicy part. Professors are told to be aware of….

“racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism, cissexism, ableism, and other issues of privilege and oppression. Realize that all forms of violence are traumatic, and that your students have lives before and outside your classroom, experiences you may not expect or understand.”

This leads to changes in curricula and worries about material that might trigger someone. Madame Bovary might really fuck someone up, given its ending.

Here is a great essay on the situation.

Meanwhile, here’s one of my favorite jokes.  A Priest and a Rabbi are standing on a corner chatting when a little boy walks by. The Priest says, “Let’s screw him!” The Rabbi replies, “Out of what?”

I instinctively (and somewhat drunkenly) typed the word baby, and voila! A whole world of baby-related searches appeared, including this one:

Hahahahaha! Isn’t this awseome? Now I can find babies nearby! Don’t tell their mommies that I’m coming to get them!

Here’s another nice google suggestion:

I could also “Explore Babies in 3D” or “Find Patents about Babies.”

Well, that’s my fun activity for a Saturday night. I recommend trying it. And no, since I’m not ten years old I’m not going to try it with “penis,” unless I have more to drink.

I think of my commenters here as my babies, even if you’re older than me. You’ve all given me so much comfort and laughter, you’ve made me feel special and you make me so proud of you. On the other hand, many of you have been like mommies when that’s what I needed. Sometimes you’ve got to make your own family as you go along.

I’d like to tuck you all in bed and kiss you good night. Then maybe you can tuck me in. Go and read about the Mommy Exchange here if you forgot it. Tonight my darling friend Summer wrote to me: “Happy Mothers day, Mommy! Love,   Mommy.” It works! xoxo

Today I went out to a mall and ordered a cup of normal coffee. As I walked away with my small black coffee, I heard a woman order a no-foam non-fat decaf extra-hot latte. I think there might have been one more requirement but I can’t remember it. This underscores the fact that I’m way too stupid to get work as a barrista.

Why the fuck do people have such perfectionist needs when it comes to coffee?! What the hell is wrong with these people?? Why do they feel so entitled to reel off a string of   detailed instructions for a cup of coffee, that another human being has to then prepare TO THE LETTER?!?

I would be mortified to appear this fussy about anything. Why aren’t these coffee prima donnas embarrassed?

My own theory is that they didn’t get enough of Mommy’s attentive pampering so now they’re going to take it out on some helpless coffee server who can’t spank them or send them to their room.

Let’s hear your theory.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve figured out why I find Abby Lee Kershaw so irresistible.

She looks like a baby. You know all those studies that demonstrate the appeal of baby-like faces? Because we’re instinctively drawn to baby faces? Otherwise we might abandon babies when they cry for ten hours straight or something?

Abby Lee is a perfect baby. I love her. I wish I could open the front door tomorrow morning and find her in a basket, with a letter from the stork!

AS IF!

This has got to be the most outrageous damage-control move in the history of publicists. Imagine being at the meeting where this story was hatched.

“Okay, we’ve got to change the narrative about Sandra, asap! The Nazi stories are killing us!”

“Yeah, this really sucks. If we don’t move quickly, Sandy will be strapped forever with the Cheating Nazi Husband image and that’s gonna sink her in the end. People are already saying that she must have known about Jesse.”

“Shit.”

“Wait! I have an idea.”

“Fire away!”

“Well, it’s kind of crazy, but it just might work. Let’s say that Sandra has an adopted baby…”

“Naw, people will smell spin-control if she adopts now.”

“Right. But let’s say SHE ALREADY HAS AN ADOPTED BABY! She’s been keeping it secret, though.”

“But why would she do that?”

“Oh, who cares. Just hear me out. Not only a baby, but a BLACK BABY!”

“Jesus.”

“Listen, think about it! This will change the Sandra Bullock narrative overnight! No one will give a shit about the Nazi husband and the strippers.”

“Oh man,   it’s a no brainer! Genius! Call Sandy and then get someone to go track down a baby and make sure it’s black.”

“Haiti?”

“Too slow. Go local.”

Fashion Herald is expecting her first baby and I’m so excited for her. I believe she is still searching for the perfect name, so here’s our chance to step up and offer suggestions. I found a nice source of names in the archives of the US Social Security Department, where you can search the most popular names of every year since 1879.

The most popular baby names of 2008 are ones to avoid if at all possible. We dont need any more boys names Logan, Aiden, Jayden or Ryan. I’m a little suspicious about the lack of Hunters, Austins, Jacksons, and Dylans. Maybe they’ll show up in the list for 2009.

The 2008 girls include Madison, Ava, Chloe, Mia and god help us, Sarah.

It’s tough to find a name you want to be saying for the next 60 years, often yelling it at the top of your lungs. It has to be a name that doesn’t seem pretentious even to you, and that won’t traumatize your kid.   I remember trying to find a good name for my youngest. I liked Otto, because it’s a palindrome and I could imagine a great kid named Otto! Even more than Otto, I liked the name Gus. It would go well with “Max,” my older boy. They could be Max and Gus, like two old Jews in a Delicatessen. But my husband wouldn’t go for it.

A name is a big deal! Try asking your mom if she had another name in mind for you that she almost used. It’s often quite a shock to discover you could’ve been “Nancy” (in my case.)

Okay, so please suggest a couple of great names for Fashion Herald! She doesn’t have to use any of them, of course, but she will get to select her favorite submission.   The winner will get a nice prize that I haven’t figured out yet. It will be something unique if not actually good!

Okay, time is running out so get to work.

And by the way, Lauren wants a nice Cunt Badge for her blog, so here it is.   Let me know if you need me to re-size if for you.

Look at Blanket.   It almost hurts to see such a beautiful child.   I can’t stop looking at him.

Ambika asked me to list Ten Honest Things, so my outburst above is number 1.

2. I love babies.
3. I want a baby.
4. When I offer to babysit,   people are scared off by my neediness.
5. I love to watch little kids when I’m in line at the post office.
6. I love it when they fall down.
7. I love toy babies and baby parts, like these soap baby hands.

8.   Both of my babies were more beautiful than any baby ever.
9. I was pretty cute too, but by five I looked like Anne Frank.
10.   I am still in awe of this photo, after 16 years.