People are cracking me up over the third royal baby. *so. many. jokes*

This past Monday (4/23), Kate Middleton gave birth to the third royal baby (and by third royal baby, I mean her third one, because there are a kazillion royals apparently?) and the internet was buzzing with excitement and in awe.... and y'all there were so many jokes. Not mean jokes, but hilarious ones!! (Even though I'm sure somebody had to be mean at some point.... ass).

In fact, I'm fairly certain that the entire point of someone announcing anything about "the royals" are just to see how many jokes we can all come up with. I mean, remember back in November 2017 when they announced that Prince Harry was finally ready to settle down and would be marrying Meghan Markle? (And also, she's a catch, good choice, Harry).

There was nothing different about it this go around and I decided to share my favorite post that I have seen where someone was talking about the fact that Kate Middleton looked like a f*cking Queen (and she's not, she's a Duchess.... and there's a difference?) seven hours after giving birth, leaving the hospital with her hubby, surrounded by thousands of people. And this is my favorite, because even though I don't have children (and have no plans to ever have them), I know that I wouldn't take childbirth like the Duchess.... I would take it like the author of this little "article." No doubt about it.

Side note: My new favorite way to refer to "lady bits" is by calling them "whisker biscuits".

And here she is, for the third time, stunning, all smiles, with her royal whisker-biscuit busted all to hell. 8 hours after shitting a watermelon, Princess Kate (for the record, it's supposed to be Duchess, but whatever) is in full hair and makeup, standing precariously in high heels in front of a hospital, hoping her goddamn industrial strength pad doesn't slip, confident that the red dress she picked will mask any potential bloody mishaps.

Once again I am in awe of her composure, because after my third vaginal crochet job I could do little more than waddle to the shitter and occasionally spritz the injured area with a numbing solution amid hisses and gasps of pain.

I certainly did not drag my fat ass to a stairwell in shoddy mesh panties to present my vagina trophy to the world nor did I grin charmingly for an army of cameras.

Fuck that noise. I wriggled into the loosest pair of already stained sweatpants I could find, snuggled my new baby and winced as the afterpains ravaged my shrinking reproductive organs. 

Congratulations to the royal couple on their new, beautiful crotchfruit. All hail the prince. And of course, the royal mimsy.

That shit is tip top. -Just the Tip. (I don't know the author's real name, but this is what was signed to it when I read it).