Q: Is There A Boy Or A Girl Inside My Uterus? A: Look Inside My Gender Baby Cake

Oh, for Christ's sake ppl. IS THERE ANY-FUCKING-THING ELSE we could possibly fetishize concerning the process of popping out a baby? Anything?? Cause I'm pretty sure there's nothing left.

I know I'm late to the party, but on top of "bump watches," teen moms on the cover of US Weekly, push presents, live-tweeting your birth, and Octomom, we now have gender cake reveal parties or what I like to call "sex by cake." This is what happens:

• You get your doctor to write down the sex of your unborn child on a piece of paper. 
• You then give this piece of paper to the zit-faced 17-year-old behind the counter at the Costco bakery who probably just went out back to get high with his homies right before you arrived.
• You hope and pray that said 17-year-old knows how to read.
• You send your mother or some other family lackey who now just waits around to do shit for you all the time because you're pregnant and tired to go pick up your gender cake.
• Then you invite all of your friends and family over to sit around, eat egg salad sandwiches and stare at you as you cut open this stupid cake and, in front of all these people, reveal the gender of your future bebe based on the color of the motherfucking trans-fat icing.
• Obvs, you then post the video of all this shit on youtube.

Ok, look: the people in this video seem sweet and adorable and I'm happy for them...but gender cake parties!?.

AYFKMWTS?

Where and when are we going to draw the fucking line, ppl?? I mean, what's next: are we gonna make ob/gyns dress up in either pink or blue clown wigs and then join a hangout sesh on google+ so that all your friends can video chat into the baby reveal? Or I have an idea! Maybe instead of gender cakes expectant moms can go get their pubes dyed either blue or pink, but they can keep their eyes closed the whole time so they won't know if it's blue or pink! And then you can invite your whole fam over to stand outside of the bathroom as you pull down your jeans and your husband stands there looking at your pubes as you stare into the bathroom mirror and shout BOY or GIRL! That would be fun, right!?

I need to go do another vomit shooter.

I think @thisisJenDoll said it best in her piece in the Village Voice:

"...Until your baby can dance or say funny things or play the piano or bring us a martini, your baby is essentially just you. Would you invite everyone over to watch you open presents? Would you order a cake in your own honor, with a "surprise" that you already knew about inside, and stage a cutting-and-reveal ceremony? (Oh, my God, crimson is oozing out of the cake! I got into Harvard Law! Aren't you happy for me?) Jesus, we hope not. That would be kinda...weird, no?"

E-X-A-C-T-L-Y.

Yes, weird....very weird.