So, you heard me right…I was sitting here writing Rhett and in barges big ole’ badass Sawyer Beckett (he’s kinda hard to miss) demanding my headspace. What’s he been doing since Entice you ask? Well, he’s been up late nights…thinking…and then writing it down.

Personally, I think he’s off to a great start and wouldn’t dream of editing his raw thoughts, cause then Sawyer just wouldn’t be Sawyer. So read at your own risk 😉

xoxo S.E.Hall


All these late nights…she doesn’t care WHAT you say, only HOW you say it…so me and my P been writing a book. She’s my proof-listener.

I’m thinking “Beckett’s Guide to Baby Mama Drama For Dummies (this means YOU dude)” is the perfect title.

No, I don’t care if you have a MBA and all the guys at your country club think your paisley socks are classy and real men wear pink…your fancy ass don’t know everything, so listen up!

DISCLAIMER (Dane said I had to put this in or somebody might get butt hurt and sue me.)

This manual is one man’s attempt to help all you other clueless schmucks out there survive your Shorty, aka wife, girlfriend, baby mama, woman who’s about to make your life hell as you never knew it, being pregnant. None of this information has been researched, vouched for clinically and/or googled. I did not survey several different pregnant women, at different stages in term, from all walks of life, nor were there any pie charts and/or focus groups involved. Information contained herein is as unscientific at it gets, but I’m a smart fucking guy, so when your buddy reads it and walks by you all smiley while you’re rocking back and forth in the corner, crying, contemplating suicide… don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

Now that Dane’s happy, all asses covered, here we go.

For the official step by step, I’m gonna start you at the beginning. I have tried to keep each point short and sweet, the “manbonics’ version, easier for you to understand. If you want the long, every scenario possible, weepy eyed drawn out version- go ask your woman, or your pansy ass bros who have kids and are so fucking happy you stopped by for a beer and they have another man to talk to, they’ll ramble on in narratives the likes of which would have me cracking their teeth.

This here is done Sawyer style.

If you see me out and want to thank me, and you will want to thank me, buy me a beer and we’re even. OR…well no, not or, just do this…keep your son the hell away from my daughter, FOREVER.

Chapter One: Your New Psalms.

The minute she says “I’m pregnant!” run, like shit is chasing you, to buy the “other” book. The “What To Expect” one. As infinite my wisdom, this one’s better. Consider it your Bible. Wrap it in plastic so it doesn’t get wet. Put a clapper on it so you never lose it. Pet it, fondle it, become one with it. Highlight anything you didn’t know and earmark as many pages as you need to. Sleep with it, your arm wrapped around it, cause A. soon your woman won’t want you touching her anyway and B. if you’re touching the book, your chances of the powers of osmosis helping out your male, not equipped for the realm you have just entered brain even as you sleep greaten. Trust me, you need all the extra help you can get. To go with your new book, buy a Dictionary or make buds with Siri and tell her to have that shit on tap at all times! You will not know at least 20% of the words, let alone their gravity, in this book. No, looking at the pictures, no matter how many times you turn the book sideways and upside down, doesn’t get it either. Consult the dictionary. And when you still don’t quite understand, see below.

Buy a thesaurus…find a word you DO know what it means, go back and apply it in the original sentence.

The single most crucial fact to know about this book? Do NOT just go throwing your knowledge in your woman’s face. Practice how you’re going to say it, and the facial expression to accompany, several times in the mirror before actually speaking.


CORRECT: “You’re exactly right Angel.” Insert smile. “And I’m thrilled I studied up on this so I can best help you, because this is about you and only you. In fact, have I said yet today that you’re beautiful and I love you?” Blow her a kiss.

INCORRECT: “That’s not what the book said.”

Even if you’d bet your balls that the book said differently, you’re mistaken. Even when you consult it and read again, removing all doubt, that she was wrong; you’re mistaken. Nope, you’re mistaken. Unless it’s something absolutely dangerous, say lighting up a cigar while changing a cat-litter box, Let. It. Go.

For those of you dumbfuck know-it-alls who must simply not place value on her EVER PUTTING OUT AGAIN, still shaking your head, all “I don’t read unless it’s a magazine while I pinch off a loaf,”…may the force be with you and your chaffed right hand.