GuestWomb

Thanks to all you folks who added comments or emailed me directly with ideas for my 18th wedding anniversary gifts. (The original post is right here.)

Truly, I’m touched by the heartfelt responses. And your generosity — at least how generous you all would be with spending my money.

After lengthy deliberation and carefully considering all my options, I’ll probably go with one of my two stand-by gift choices:

Oven mitts — can’t ever have too many of those! Or…

Who doesn’t need vacuum cleaner bags?

Thank you….thankyouverymuch.

Halfway home to filling the GuestWomb Field of 64. If you think our first nominees were something special, you’re in for a treat now.

Our top notch Selection Committee has deliberated long and hard on our next bracket — if that’s what you call bookmarking TMZ.com. We’ve come up with 16 luminaries from the world of music, movies and God only knows what else. Without further ado, I present the Elvis Regional Bracket

(1) Bill Cosby vs. (16) Rush Limbaugh. There’s always room for pudding and this tremendous role model for the African American community, against a guy who eats a lot of pudding.

(8) Carrot Top vs. (9) Pee Wee Herman. The scariest thing about this pairing: 

After this game, only 15 other males stand in the way of this winner being part of the ultimate Surrogacy arrangement.

(5) Al Roker vs. (12) David Hasselhoff. Every tournament has one of those matchups where you want both guys to lose. This is the one.

(4) Sigfried & Roy vs. (13) Wayne Newton. It’s fitting that Vegas is well represented in the Elvis bracket.

(6) Fabio vs. (11) Alec Baldwin. How did the muscle bound coverboy merit a #6 seed?

He’s matched against one of the truly great father’s of our time, based on his famous voice mail.

(3) Ozzie Osbourne vs. (14) Dennis Rodman. I guarantee the offspring of either of these two are headed for a lifetime of therapy.

(7) Mr. Rogers vs. (10) Spock. It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood vs. Live long and prosper.

Cardigan sweaters against pointy ears.

(2) Bono vs. (15) Sully Sullenberg. What’s more amazing: Landing an airplane on a river in the middle of NYC without killing anyone? Or going through life wearing those ridiculous sunglasses?

Looking back through this pairings. Uh, wow. I think the Selection Committee was trying to make a statement with these choices. And that statement was:

Are we done yet?

We’ll finish out this prestigious field with the last 16 women, chosen from the world of politics, business and their ability to fog a mirror. We’ll call this the Tila Tequilla Regional.

When you look at this bracket, she was an obvious naming choice.

Imagine you’re in an elevator heading down. The car comes to a stop at the 13th floor. The doors open and you find yourself surrounded by this group entering/stumbling in:
One of the Brady Bunch.
A 50s-era cheesecake photo dominatrix.
THE gay icon
A ruined Disney teen star or two.
Multiple drug-addled singer-actresses.
A 1920’s and current era cartoon character
A 2009 Jersey Shore character so bizarre she’d be more believable as a cartoon.

No, this elevator isn’t going on an express descent to hell. You’ve found yourself in the middle of the next bracket of GuestWomb’s Field of 64.

If you’ve happened to stumble upon this humble blog, and have no idea what I’m talking about, I suggest you go here. Or just leave with your sanity intact.

Still here? OK, then.  Today we’re heading over to the female side of the bracket, unveiling the Paris Hilton Regional. Our Selection Committee labored for at least 12 minutes to choose the actresses and singers who best represent the ultimate Gestational Surrogate.

Now, to the matchups:

(1) Beyoncé vs. (16) Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana, 2011 (legal) version. This is basically a bye for the ebony megastar. She’s gonna be a tough out in this tourney. Miley/Hannah isn’t even of legal age to be a surrogate. Well, maybe in…Montana.

(8) Snookie vs. (9) Betty Boop. How do you find a person more shallow than a 2-dimensional cartoon?

Hello,  Snookie.

(5) Mrs. Brady vs. (12) Britney Spears. Consider their made-for-TV spouses. Mike Brady was secretly in the closet. Kevin Federline was not so secretly in the refrigerator.  

(4) A  Kardashian To Be Named Later (pick one) vs. (13) Marge Simpson. Take your pick of the E network all star Kardashians. This is a matchup of a cartoonish woman saddled with a bizarre and dysfunctional family against…… Ah, make it a matched set.

(6) Whitney Houston, pre-Bobby Brown era vs. (11) Betty Page.

Early Whitney was the first Beyoncé. If only she would have Betty’s whips and handcuffs,
I bet she would have put Bobby in his place.

(3) Lindsey Lohan vs. (13) Betty White. I imagine both of these women might be snorting some powder before this matchup. Of course, Betty would be doing lines of Metamucil. Alas, I’m not sure Betty’s doctor is going to go for the whole surrogacy thing. She is 88 for God’s sake. Then again, they OKed Michelle, so….

(7) Pam Anderson vs. (10) Cher. Most young boys during the 1980s and 90s lusted after one of these two women. Alas, for very different reasons. Neither one of these nominees will be showing up on a ‘best dressed’ list anytime soon.

(2) Lady Gaga vs. (15) Amy Winehouse/Courtney Love. Weird vs. Weirder and Weirder Still. While this might seem like a mismatch for the lady with the Poker Face and few clothes, it’s really not. We just figure that either Winehouse or Love will be in Celebrity Rehab and only one will show.

So there you go — the sixteen ladies from the stage and screen battling for their place in surrogacy supremacy. Luckily there’s no drug testing to get in this event or we’d be left with Mrs. Brady vs. Betty White.

We’ll journey back over to the Men’s field tomorrow with our picks for actors, singers and the others too difficult to categorize. Fittingly, we’ll call it the Elvis Regional Bracket.

Another reason why I love the NCAA Men’s hoop tourney: It’s how my very best ‘brush with fame’ story came to be.

Spring of 1983. I was sitting on a mostly deserted press row as a newbie sportswriter, covering a Western Regional doubleheader in Corvallis, Oregon. As I watched underdog Princeton tangle with Oklahoma State, I noticed a guy take the empty seat next to me. I did a double-take — it was the the coach of the winning team in the first game! His motley team had just survived a two point win over heavy underdog Pepperdine and he looked completely wiped out. Without so much as an introduction, he started a running commentary to me like I was his best friend. 

For the next three hours he jabbered nonstop in his rich Queens, New York accent, teaching me more about basketball that I had accumulated in my previous 23 years of life.

Three weeks later, he coached his team to the biggest upset in college basketball history, taking down the vaunted Phi Slamma Jamma Houston Cougars. I’ll never forget my private coaching clinic from the irrepressible Jim Valvano.

(Why do I hear the late Paul Harvey’s voice intoning: “and now you know…. the rest of the story”.. Good DAY!)

Here we go — introducing your John Edwards Regional Bracket. (If you’re wondering what in the hell this is all about, go here.)  This is the best of…. They’re the top…

Well, let’s just say we’ve selected males in the sports, political and business arena. Past and present. Dead or alive. Real or imaginery. Guys who would produce….fascinating….gestational surrogate offspring.

I’ll introduce them in order of their first round pairings. At the top of the bracket, our number one seed:

(1) Wilt Chamberlain vs. (16) Figure Skater Johnny Weir. The Big Dipper vs. Feathers and Fur. Experience most definately in Wilt’s favor. He claims to have slept with 20,000 women.

Weir? Uh, considerably less.

(2) Hugh Hefner vs. (15) The Burger King. With the Girls Next Door serving as cheerleaders, the edge goes to Hef although I still expect a Whopper of a game out of the King.

(3) Lance Armstrong vs. (14) Kobayashi (Hot Dog Eating Champion). It’s a great matchup.

A guy who crams a huge quantity of unnatural substances into his body for the sole purpose of winning championships versus a guy who loves him some hot dogs.

(4) Tiger Woods, pre-Thanksgiving 2009 edition vs. (13)  Attila the Hun. Epic contest here! A guy who conquers all, pillages and plunder women against…..uh, same kind of guy.

(5) Dick Cheney vs. (12) Montgomery Burns. Whoa. Another mirror image first round matchup! Prince of darkness X 2.

(6) Al Gore vs. (11) David Beckham. Gore thought he had the top seed but lost out on a recount. (rim shot). Beckham gets in for his foreign passport and as eyecandy for the female readers of this blog.

(7) Roy Hobbs (the hero in the move, The Natural) vs. (10) Donald Trump. 

The Natural vs. The Donald. Feel good against feel bad. 

(8) Mike Tyson vs. (9) Darth Vader. Good thing Vader wears a helmet; no risk of losing an ear.

So there’s half of your Men’s bracket. The Selection Commitee had a tough time narrowing this field down. Think of the luminaries who didn’t make it in? Barry Bonds. Bill Clinton. Terrell Owens.

The Vatican.

Tomorrow, we’ll go across the bracket to the Women’s side. We’ll preview the female actresses and singers who are nominated in our Field of 64. Otherwise known as the Paris Hilton Regional Bracket.

I warned you this would happen.

March Madness — my favorite time of year. Otherwise known as the NCAA Basketball Tournament, I’ve enjoyed this wonderful four weeks of frenzy since….well forever. So many awesome memories associated with it.

Watching games with my Dad on a grainy B&W television as John Wooden’s UCLA teams defined the meaning of a true  ‘sports dynasty’. Attending two Final Fours in person, perched in the extreme nose bleed section of that cement tomb otherwise known as the Seattle Kingdome.

So what does March Madness have to do with Gestational Surrogacy? Well everything of course, at least in my warped mind. Because this month of basketball passion and pagentry is about living the dream. Striving for that ultimate goal. To truly call yourself: Number one.

So back to surrogacy: If you had the chance to pick the Number One male….and female….to create the ultimate embryo to be implanted into a surrogate….who would that be?

Ronald Reagan and Margret Thatcher? Albert Einstein and Madame Curie? How about Andy Warhol and Janice Joplin, pre-1960s drug habit?

See where I’m going here? The possibilities are almost too much to comprehend. How could you possibly arrive at the Final Two?

Well, the answer is quite simple: Using an imaginery tournament set up and run by a blogger with way too much time on his hands!

Welcome to GuestWomb’s Field of 64. This is more like two tourneys in one, with 32 men and 32 women vying for the honor to produce the ultimate surrogate child.

So here’s how it works. The Selection Committee — consisting of myself, a surprisingly agreeable Michelle and my equally warped daughter Emma — have chosen the Field of 64. Thirty two men on one side of the bracket, and 32 women on the other time. We’ve grouped them by categories — sports legends, famous politicians, stars and starletts, etc. Plus a smattering of wildcard entrants who really don’t fit into any one box.

Who’s eligible to be selected? The criteria is pretty wide open. Men and women — and even those who are still trying to figure out which column they fit — of any time period. Dead or alive. Even fictional characters are allowed. Remember this is truly the Dream Team, the ultimate Gestational Surrogacy pairing for all time!

(Notice I didn’t refer to this pairing as necessarily the Best and the Brightest.  Once you see the nominees you’ll see why.)

Did we make the right choices? You’ll soon see. I expect a lot of comments on our selection. Who should have made the list. Who shouldn’t be included. (Carrot Top?!?! Really?) Yes. Really. 

Now that the Selection Committee has made its choice, I’ll then rank them — or in tourney speak, give them seeds. The top ranked entry — or No. 1 seek — will be matched up against the lowest person. So it’ll be No 1 vs. No. 16, then No. 2 vs. No. 15, and so on. Both the men’s and women’s draw will have two 16 ‘team’ regionals or bracksts, just like the real deal.

And just like the NCAAs, we’ll play them off every week or so. We’ll be down to the Sweet 16 by the end of this weekend. The Elite 8 will follow next week, leading into the Final Four. Finally we’ll come up with the utlimate surrogacy pairing and ponder what kind of child this team would produce.

So as we count down the weeks towards our real end game, this should provide a fun diversion to watching Michelle living a little bit larger every day.

Lets get this party started! First up will be the top left bracket on the Men’s Field, sixteen nominees composed of male sports figures, politicians and business leaders.  We’ll call it the John Edwards Regional Bracket!

(IMPORTANT NOTE — This post and more to follow are not meant to minimize or belittle the amazing miracle that is gestational surrogacy. I think my previous 73 posts show my respect and awe for this journey. But c’mon folks, a guy can only write so much about the comings and goings of Michelle’s uterus.

Also: Per the laws of the Commonwealth of Pennyslvania, this bracket is not intended for gambling purposes.) 

Our wedding anniversary is coming up — on April 4 to be exact. Ah, 18 continually blissful, calm, placid, stress-free years together as a family..

OK, even I had to roll my eyes over that one.

Despite our ups and downs — with a few loop-de-loops thrown in for good measure — we’ve beaten the odds and made it almost two decades as man and wife. Which begs the age old question:

What’s the perfect anniversary gift for the woman who was made pregnant by another man? (And another woman too, if you’re keeping score at home)

Anyone have a suggestion?

My last post talked about what I’ll be missing out on in 16 years. This post is what I won’t be missing out on in a few weeks.

I’ve been a huge Conan O’Brien fan for years. Always regretted that I never got tickets when he was doing his Late Night gig just up the road in New York City. Then he moved to LA to take on the Tonight Show….and we all know what happened next.

Fast forward to today, as I was scanning the internets. There was a blurb about Conan taking  his act on the road while he is barred from being on TV. Checking the tour schedule….YES! He’s going to be in Atlantic City on May 30. My credit card number was already punched in when…………… I remembered.

Oh crap. Michelle’s due date. May 26.

And here’s the place — right HERE — where being the ‘surrogate’ and not the ‘intended parent’ has its advantages.

Because assuming Michelle is on schedule….. the Conan show is just four days after the big event.

Barb and Michelle, the intended parents, will be spending all their time getting to know the newest member of their family. Talk about ‘Late Night’ gigs.

Meanwhile, Michelle will be on her way to Atlantic City, hoisting a few glasses of champaign, laughing at CoCo’s antics.

In about 16 years — give or take a tolerant attitude — our IPs will be doing the exact same thing I’m doing right now.

It’s 11:30 p.m. on a Thursday night. I’ve just gotten home from dropping off my oldest daughter Emma at a midnight movie premiere of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. Months before the movie was due to be released, I had promised my 16-year old that she and her good friend Tresier — both of them huge Tim Burton fans — could go see the movie on opening night. As it turned out, it’s opening on a school night. But a promise is a promise, and so I’m back home waiting until 2 a.m. to pick them up. Normally I’m a pretty strict parent, but this one time I’m going to let her skip school tomorrow.

So as I brew some coffee and attempt to stay awake another two hours, I’ve got some very quiet time to reflect on my current parenting role. And the role I’m going to miss out on with the child currently taking up more and more space inside Michelle. When this little one is Emma’s age, someone else — our IPs Barb and Michelle — will be the ones keeping the promise to let them stay out late. (Probably to view the latest in the Harry Potter saga, number 24 when middle aged Harry and his wizard friends do battle with the greatest enemy of all — the Dreaded Curse of Male Pattern Baldness!)

As the weeks go by, and Michelle’s due date actually starts to come within view, I’ll be spending more time reflecting on just how … different….this journey has been. This experience has been a lot of things so far.

Rewarding. Fascinating. Fulfilling.

But it’s also been strange. Foreign. Awkward at times. And sometimes just flat out weird. Even a feeling of emptiness at what — or in this case — does not lie ahead.

Now that’s something I did not expect.

From my vantage point, it’s been almost all positive. Course I’m not the one gobbling up Tums like they’re M&Ms, or having my internal organs used for soccer practice during all hours of the day and night. But now I find myself noticing how different things are going to be with this pregnancy, especially the final act. Most of all the differences in my own thinking. 

Sixteen years ago I was watching Michelle’s belly swell up at about the same rate as my worries and headaches. ‘Holy shit,’ I remember thinking, ‘My pretty much carefree life as I know it is over. (There’s a shocking GuestWomb entry to come on this topic. Brace yourself kids — but you were pretty much all your Mom’s idea. Sorry to break it to you)

While I might not have been ready for this change, I certainly didn’t shrink from my responsiblities then or now. And that’s what it really meant to me:  Life was to be all about the responsibilities.

Focusing on keeping the roof over our heads, the wife and kid (and soon to be kids) clothed and fed. Praying that everyone stayed healthy through doctor appointments. Nursery school and kindergarten. Braces. And on and on. Saving for college. Paying for weddings. A lot of it was panicky headtrash that seemed overwhelming at the time.

And yet all the responsibility for the little soul currently in residence somewhere east of Michelle’s spleen lies elsewhere. It’s Barb and Michelle, the IPs, that will assume all the burden and more.  They’ll be the ones shaking their heads at how expensive 5 years of braces can be. They’ll be worrying about making sure their boy gets into Honors Classes to make a better impression on college admissions committees.

They’ll be the ones waiting up until 2 a.m. like I am tonight.

Am I going to miss that? Maybe so. Because while Michelle takes the credit for prodding me into becoming a family man, being a parent has been the most rewarding part of my life.  Even those daunting responsibilities that caused sleepless nights so many years ago bring only a smile to my face.