I grew up on a farm. When I tell people that, they usually laugh, but it's true.
When I say farm, I mean cows, pigs, chickens, all that good shit.
I can milk a cow with my bare hands. Or, as it's known in some circles "molest the juice out of them."
Having that kind of childhood was badass. You get to co-exist with the miracle of life on a daily basis.
When I was 9-ish, my uncle shared a few things with me. One of those things had to do with the birthing process.
Now, my uncle wasn't one of those guys that had a fountain of knowledge, he was more of a Ron White type. Full of bullshit, with a scotch in hand. Take it away, Uncle Kevin!
"Isn't it crazy how cows eat that afterbirth shit?"
Me: (nodding head vigorously) "GROSS!"
Uncle: "Too bad you have to do the same thing when you pop out some kids, Sal.
(smokes cigarette thoughtfully)
Your mom had to eat your afterbirth.
And your brother's
And your sister's.
Why do you think me and Jamie only have one kid?"
Me: I. Will. Never. Have. Kids.
Uncle: I think that's for the best.
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