Where Did I Come From, Where Did YOU Come From?

I'm glad everyone enjoyed yesterday's post, I had a record number of visitors according to Stat Counter. Through experience, I have learned that talking about sex will increase your blog traffic, as will posting risque photos. Now I know I can add Britney Spears to that list. But be careful, I fear talking about sex, posting pictures, and taking a jab at Britney all at once may cause your monitor to explode. So no taking pictures of your boyfriend doing you from behind while you're crouched over a bear-skin rug this weekend and then blogging about it on Monday.

With that said, I bet you figured out today's topic: sex.

When my oldest brother Drake was 9, he received a copy of the greatest book ever, "Where Did I Come From?" Little did his parents know at the time that this one copy would educate all of their children, and their step-children, and friends of their children and step-children.

I was a few years younger than Drake when I found the book. I was visiting my father one weekend and my sister, one of my brothers, and I were in the bonus room playing Nintendo. Actually I just watched. I'm the youngest and spent most of my childhood watching my older siblings have fun while I whined for the turn I never got. When I finally got my Kool Aid stained hands on the controls, I would die immediately and my turn would be over for another hour while my brother hogged the game.

Anyways I finally got my turn and I'm happy as could be. My sister, who lived there, motioned to my brother to come to the book case. She pulled out the book and showed it to him. They start giggling. They sat down on the other couch together and laughed as they slowly flipped through each page. All of a sudden, the Nintendo didn't seem nearly as fun as whatever was in that book. I asked them what the book was about and they slammed it shut and told me I was too young. So I went back to Mario and watched them out of the corner of my eyes and noted where they put the book back on the shelf.

Later that night I went back to the book case and found the book. I remember opening it up and the inside cover was an illustration filled with sperm wearing top hats and carrying a dozen roses. The sperm smiled. For those of you unfamiliar with the greatest book ever, it's filled with illustrations of chubby white cartoon characters playing the role of your parents as it goes from the act of sex through the birth of a baby. The page where the actual baby making is taking place is the man and woman hugging of sorts on a plush bed with hearts drawn above them like a cloud of smoke.

I thought this book was the dirtiest thing ever and read it over and over for at least 4 years. I can still quote parts of it, "It's like a sneeze, only better."

How eloquent.

In preparation for this post, as well as in a fit of nostalgia, I looked up the book on Amazon.com wanting to see the white cover and big block lettering one more time. I found this:


The African-American version. No longer will black kids have to learn about sex from fat white people with pasty buttocks!

I wonder if my parents knew the impact that one decision they made when Drake, now 36, was 9. Entire households of kids learned from that book because we sure as hell showed all our friends. So that's how I learned about sex.

I see they have a DVD of it. I'm seriously considering buying it.