Did he put his puppet in your mouth?

If each of our lives has a million moments, the moment your child is born is like, top two or three. I know it's cliche as f--k, but of my thirty-seven years on this planet, the births of my two little ones are battling it out for the image most seared into my memory.

The making part is a bit blurry (I was going to say fuzzy, but opted against it), sure, but the moment those punks entered this world is simply unforgettable. Especially if you're down low. For my son Matthew, icechips in hand, I stayed high. Whispered little bits of encouragement into the bravest person in the room.

But for Violet, perhaps seeing the fear in my eyes, the doctor nudged me with her left elbow and gave me this nod like, get in there, P-ssy (poorly phrased, I realize). And so I did.

And what happened next...changed my life forever.

While I'm not really well-versed in the series, it's safe to say the events of Bridget Jones's Baby will also alter some lives forever, I'm just not sure which ones exactly. See, it appears that after a couple of incredible (and altogether improbable) evenings, the 43 year-old Ms. Jones has found herself rather knocked up. As any expecting mother north of 35 would tell you, this is a high-risk situation. And that's assuming you already know who the father is.

As yet another of my seasonal cinematic olive branches extended to Mrs. Two Dollar Cinema, I thought this one would be an excellent pick. Consistently charming and just funny enough, the third (right?) Bridget Jones flick essentially delivered what each of us were looking for. For her? A delightful comedy about having a baby starring two handsome men. For me? Two more hours with Dorothy Boyd, all grown up, and with a British accent. 

Though the narrative flow was interrupted by my wife's predictable flat-lining (and me immediately switching to Train to Busan), Bridget Jones's Baby quickly locks you onto the edge of your seat. Even if you don't find the jokes all that funny, or if the constant profanity turns you off, I'd put money on the fact that you'd still be interested in seeing who the father ends up being. Maybe it was predictable, or maybe it was something everybody already knew, but I was nervously rocking in my seat, waiting for the big reveal. 

Or maybe I thought that sound outside was a Korean zombie, coming to eat my face, Either way, I needed some f--king answers.

Oddly enough, this picture basically sums up my experience in the delivery room.
Though it wasn't mud we were knee deep in.

Look, maybe the world didn't need the existence of a Bridget Jones film trilogy (especially one spread out over a decade and a half), but frankly, this one might just surprise you. Honestly, I found myself laughing pretty steadily as this one came barreling toward its highly-anticipated conclusion, and one scene in particular damn near killed me (it was f--king hysterical). And that Mr. Darcy, well, I do declare! *fans self while sipping on sweet tea*

Speaking of things that are entirely out of place and illogical, here are the Yays and Boos. This was our final film of 2016, and not exactly where we expected to find ourselves on New Years Eve, er, eve. I thought we'd be people fake-making a baby, not watching fake people make a real one. (read it again, it checks out)

Dempsey has waaay too much fun in this scene.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

• You can't go wrong with House of Pain's Jump Around. Even if you are not in a Larry Bird jersey and even if you are spilling wine everywhere.
• And speaking of the jumping and the bouncing, put me down in pen for how fine Renee Zellweger has remained all these years. I've been all in since Jerry Maguire, and Zellweger is as sexy as ever.
• Do you need sex? This guy. 
• Man, the Gangnam Style dance was much appreciated. How could he just stand there? Unacceptable! Darcy, you must dance.
• Even if he f--ked up on the dance floor, he certainly redeemed himself moments later. Huge props to whatever you call that sly exit you attempt when you're trying to politely sneak off and f--k like dogs. I'm sure there's a term for this...
• Emma Thompson is pretty f--king funny as the disapproving Dr. Rawlings. Not only was her summation of yoga f--king brilliant, but the re-telling of her husband's view on watching childbirth was infinitely better. It was like watching his favorite pub burn down...may be the best simile in the history of time.
• Alright, I'm not really sure where to put Bridget's Boss Lady, but I'm going to go with the Yays. Not only was her accent (and delivery) routinely funny, but she pretty much looked like the human/female form of Gerald from Finding Dory. Go ahead and Google it.
• Don't care if it's two minutes or two hours, you tell me Jim Broadbent is in a movie and I'm f--king there every time.
• When Bridget tells Mark the big news I almost died. Even for an attorney, that was one Hell of a rebuttal.
• Okay, the scene where Bridget haphazardly introduces Mark to that Indian guy still makes me laugh. Sure, the name part of that bit was funny, but the quiet disappointment that dude swallowed was the best thing ever.
• Kind of like the guy working the bar at the restaurant they head to. Poor bastard.
• While not quite dicks out for Harambe, boobs out for Mark was certainly appreciated.
• As was the grilling of that Chinese guy. Funny stuff.
• And finally, speaking of, I rather not mention my favorite scene in the movie, but it's basically the best take on SHE'S HAVING THE BABY! I've ever witnessed. I'm all for careening around corners in tiny cary, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic and people walking their dogs, but how Mark and Jack handle this still makes me smile. I think my lung's collapsed, but this isn't about me.

Come and knock on my doorrrrrr........

Booooooooooo!

• Is every spin class on the planet f--king insane? 'Cause if not, movies are really screwing these guys over.
• The whole mud-pit thing was rather ridiculous, was it not?
• But the real king of the f--king absurd, is easily the way that Jack and Bridget do the deed. Uh, that dude was already in bed, shirtless, alone, at like 8:45? The f--k is this? Science fiction?
• Vegan condoms. No on both fronts.
• That's a pretty big f--king needle, isn't it? Yes. Yes it is. However, I'm still calling bullshit on this little plot device. If I didn't know who the father of my child was, you could stick a parking meter up my ass if would help get my shit together. Though...clearly this hypothetical presents a host of problems....
• I'm all for cheap laughs but I thought the 'search history' thing was extra terrible.
• As was all the accompanying man ass. Couldn't Hard News suck giant titties?
• Yep, It's back. Ye ol' I saw you at the worst possible second and jumped to every conclusion I could think of. I hate this.
• Man, the whole shit-show at the ATM was the worst. At that point? F--k everything. 
• Oh, Movie Baby Delivery Scene. You're the worst. (does mom really ever bite dad? That's f--ked up if so)
• And finally, the ending. F--k you, guys. That's not how I wanted this to go.

You want the truth? You can't handle the truth. But here goes, anyway.

As I said, when my daughter was born, I was there. Like...right there. And as the doctor pulled and stretched my wife...open...it happened. A scene I will never be able to unsee. The head of my daughter slid out. Just the head, mind you. And hung there for a second. Maybe two. And just before Violet came sliding out into the world, her head kind of lolled lazily toward me...

...and we made eye contact. 

I was looking at this tiny person's head, sticking out of another person's, uh, body. And the entire world absolutely f--king stopped.

And at that point, that exact moment in time, there was no prolonged ambiguity. No questions to be answered.

I knew exactly who her mother was. Not a doubt in the world.