Thursday, January 27, 2011


My friend is an Internet guru and information vacuum, she is awesome and also she send me great things to read. Today she sent me a link to a post on the great and multifarious that catalogs a Twitter trend where people are upset that everything bagels don't live up to their name. To wit:

"You call this an everything bagel?! Where are the french fries & the pizza & the pot brownie & the Taco Bell fire sauce?!"
-- @ronniewk

"The "everything bagel" really only has like three things. Just what I want for breakfast. Lies."
-- @missrftc

And my favorite:

"This "everything bagel" is great. Has onions, poppy seeds, garlic, cheese, q-tips, Greenland, fear, sandals, wolves, teapots, crunking..."
-- @johnmoe

Clearly, everything bagels always taste better with crunking.
Outside of the fact that this is funny and brings a small argument for Twitter to exist, the reason I find it particularly hilarious is becaue J and I call each other Bagel, and when I feel particularly charitable, I tell people "he's my everything Bagel".
When J and I were first together, we were having an idyllic Sunday morning, reading the Sunday paper in bed. Filled with the perfection of the moment and the blindness of new love, he looked over at me and said "I love you, baby." But what I heard was, "I love you, bagel." This reminded me of Steve Carrel's character Brick from Anchorman:

For some reason, Bagel stuck. And somehow, it ended up being what we called one another.
Now, as a mini-hobby, we find it ridiculously satisfying to find bagel shops that affirm our choice of nickname:

But sometimes it works against us. In our first birth class this week, the instructor was talking about dilation. We all know that you are supposed to dilate to ten centimeters before you deliver a baby. But do you know how big ten centimeters is? I mean really? In the words of our instructor, "Four inches across, about the size of a bagel."


As my grandma used to say, Egads! The reality of birth is starting to dawn on me, now that it is getting so much closer. I am 30 weeks along and this shit is real.
I know we are making the right decision to try to have a natural birth, but I have to be honest, it ups the fear factor. People have suggested that I not think about it, but to be honest, I would rather think about it and be prepared than not think about it and be overwhelmed with the shock of the pain and turn to meds. If i mentally prepare, I think I will be better off.

I know one thing, Bagel will be there for me every step. So this is in praise of the everything Bagel, who indeed, would not be complete without crunking.


  1. My everything bagel had an epidural. Sometimes a bagel's gotta do what a bagel's gotta do.

    I love this post - best yet.

  2. Childbirth classes are fine. I took a multi-week extensive class. You know what I used from it? Almost nothing. It was informative, but bagel imagery, baby dolls with their heads in mini-pelvises. . . it's like watching a condom going on a banana in health class and thinking that represents the real thing. So to speak.

    If you want to go natural, get a doula and go to a birth center. I don't know any first time moms who went natural without one or both.

    Regardless, however the mini-peanut-bagel gets here, he is going to be so freaking cute. And I will give him 1,000,000 kisses the first time I get to see him.

    Think of all the things you have feared in your life that you did. You're strong, girl. You can do it however you want. All my love.

  3. We have a doula, a birth center is not an option because of my health risks. The birth classes are more for J than for me. They are also heavily pushed by my OBGYN and I would rather deal with the class than with the judgment, to be honest. They remind me of business classes: all models based on perfect economies or archetypal capitalist industry but not a damn thing you can apply to the real world with its messiness and unpredictable human behavior.