Loading ...Since Octomom exploded on to the collective consciousness like a…well…a vagina that spat out 8 kids, she’s become something of a circus (which is fitting since her uterus was essentially a clown car). Yet, for all of the controversy surrounding this, there’s one thing that everyone can agree on – that birth was probably foul. We’re talking the kind of explosion of fluids that other vaginas hear about and spontaneously sew themselves shut.
Octomom might be a spectacle in human terms, but her story has got nothing on the animal kingdom. Here are just 3 quick stories of mom’s whose reproductive struggles are so incredible that it almost makes me want to reach out to the innumerable women I’ve impregnated throughout the nation. Almost.
Like this, only with sperm
Supermom #1 – The Octopus
Did you know that when Bryan Adams penned his hit “Everything I Do (I Do It For You)” it was actually a ballad about octopi? No? You never wondered why he was called “The Jacques Cousteau Of Canadian Rock”? Well, he wasn’t kidding. An Octopus mom’s sacrifices for their offspring practically entitles them to martyrdom. If only more octopi were Catholic…
The female octopus is a one-stop insemination shack. This is true of both of her reproductive specializations and her reputation among scuba divers for being the Drunken Prom Date of the sea:
Once you go invertebrate, you never go back
Depending on the species, they can carry anywhere from 50,000 to 200,000 eggs. If she is knocked up before her eggs are fully fertile, she can actually keep the sperm alive in her for weeks until the eggs are ready. In short, never go digging through an octopus’ purse unless you’re prepared for what they might be hoarding.
The female cares for the eggs alone with great dedication, much to the chagrin of more socially conservative fish. She protects them from predators and even blows currents of water over them to ensure they get adequate oxygen. She doesn’t even eat for the month-long span she spends tending to them (human mothers complaining about dropping “baby weight” should be taking notes here). Shortly after the eggs hatch, the mother dies, either from starvation or after reading about projected college costs for her kids.
Supermom #2 – Surinam Toads
The Surinam Toad is better than your mom in both her maternal sacrifices and her willingness to have really freaky sex. Considering the stuff your mom lets me get away with, that’s really saying something.
The female releases batches of eggs which the male fertilzes and packs on to her back. 60 to 100 eggs will adhere to the spongy skin on her back until the female’s back begins to swell around the eggs. They literally implant INTO her skin, producing a honeycomb pattern. They’ll remain wriggling in her skin for 12 to 20 weeks, assuming she doesn’t opt to eat a bullet because heebies are driving her to madness.
At least when I fertilize your mom’s back she can just take a shower…
The larvae develop through the tadpole stage in this state, emerging as fully developed (2 cm long) toads. Given that the egg-diameter for this species is around 6.4 to 6.6 mm, their volume about triples while under mom’s skin. Unfortunately, I fear that no amount of math is going to adequately translate what this must feel like, so here’s a video to really get that dry-heaving supercharged:
Supermom #3 – Sea Louse
The word “lice” tends to conjure up some pretty visceral reactions and for good reason. Unlike other parasites that do you the courtesy of killing you with malaria, lice prefer to target your self-esteem. They are notorious for striking at early childhood, relegating Little Johnny Head Lice to be the subject of mockery for years to come. And once lice get hopped up on shame-flavored blood there’s no stopping them. It’s only a matter of time before they start chasing that high and up the ante by living on our genitals, staging yet another dignity assassination during your adolescence.
Its size is inversely proportional to its hate
Hold on. Am I the only one who sees this? Is that little fucker SMILING at us?
I phrased the introduction with a spiteful tone because, unlike the other two creatures above, it is hard to conjure empathy for a louse and its reproductive plight. Now we can rejoice guilt-free at how much it sucks to be a female sea louse.
The female sea louse is kind of the Bridget Jones of the animal kingdom. Plagued by low self-esteem and the deafening tick of their biological clock, they can pretty much get talked into anything to land a man. The male sea louse, a.k.a. the Sea Lothario, tracks the scent of her desperation and drops one of his signature pick-up lines:
Swept up in the euphoria of making her friends endure a bridesmaid dress as gaudy as the last 18 she was forced to wear, she agrees to join him in his burrow. Upon entering she’s greeted with the 25 or more other sea lice he’s also talked down there, each thinking this is probably just an elaborate premise for a dating reality show. It could be if the show was “Who Wants To Get Plowed By A Uncaring Sea Louse?”.
Once the babies are ready to be born, the sea louse retires to a quiet corner of the burrow, turns on some soothing new age music, and prepares to have her babies gently chew through her sternum. They literally make their way out to the world by eating her from the inside out. I don’t usually put much credence in the notions of Intelligent Design, but you could make a compelling argument that God hates lice as much as we do.
Ian Cheesman is wishing he had more time to ensure no opportunities for ejaculate humor were missed here, but he’s too busy finishing up his stage notes for “Jizz!: The Musical” debuting on scenicanemia.com.
