Brittany Hodges; just a singer who happens to strip for cash?

October 2, 2003

"I want to be noticed. I love the spotlight," Ms. Hodges acknowledged, adding that if her parents don't like what she does to earn a few bucks they can go straight to hell.

Stripper hangs up panties of doom!
September 3, 2003

Perhaps she woke up to the realization that if she doesn't stop her skanky ways she could turn out to be like Nikki Newman. Who would want to be married to countless men much less the same man three times? Maybe she didn't want to go down in Genoa City history as the hot babe who wound up dazzling the crowd of toothless, sexless, unshaven men shedding her bra and G-string and snorting blow off the boss' butt. Maybe she wants to become a likeable character and not some odious creepy person you'd completely expect to be into something ugly and skanky.

For whatever reason, Brittany Hodges quit her stripping job this week. Effective immediately Hodges will no longer be the well-oiled gyrating quasi-sexual grope machine she was for a better part of the Summer.

And she did it all for the love of Raul Guittierez.
 
No longer will the creepy collector of his own skanky-ass clipped toenails have to download video clips from either totallyhotbutts.com or realmormonmasturbation.org. Guittierez stood up to Gentlemen's Club owner Bobby Marsino where his woman was working, demanded Hodges be cut loose, ordered Marsino to stay away from "Marilyn" and damn but what she didn't do as she was told without so much as a peep of objection from Marsino.

If Marsino wants to hire a bunch of skank hos and Internet stalkers and Enron execs and other friends of the mafia, laundering money and for all anyone knows gives generous cash gifts to help pay for Victor Newman's diamond-studded rectal thermometer, that's his business. But Brittany Hodges is done stripping. Now, at long last, Guittierez and Hodges can, "move on" with their empty lives.

But as we've come to learn, when people in this pissant town say they're moving on they never go anywhere. Thusly, it should be just a little bit frightening in and of itself to think that a sex empire giant like Marsino would allow his precious little plastic C-cup cash-cow brain-scrambler bimbo to get away so easily. Not to mention how you know he's got another million or so young brainwashed heavily narcotized-spanked girls waiting in the wings to be sucked into the skanky vortex.

Wouldn't that be more interesting? Of course it would. Marsino is like that slimy hairy gunk you dig out of your bathtub drain. The stuff that looks like something hocked up by Satan's cat after eating one too many demon-possessed mice who had been feasting on Christine Blair's soul. Imagine a smallish wad of that, stuck in a remote drain somewhere. That's what this guy is coming back as to make Guittierez and Hodges pay dearly for not continuing their education when they had the chance. By the time Marsino is done with Hodges she'll be longing to feel the men in the front row with their sunken eyes and rotten teeth gumming her body.

There is so much more wallowing in the sexual snake pit and the praising of Satan for making it another wonderful day to be sucking the miserable nation dry of what few remaining family values it has before Hodges can truly hang up her crotchless panties of doom.

Surprise, surprise
August 12, 2003

Brittany Hodges, an under appreciated divine goddess incarnate who spawns a million frenetic spasming late-night Vaseline fantasies given how she strips for money at the local Gentlemen's Club, belted out her rendition of "Teach Me Tonight" here Tuesday as the gods of sticky juicy love cringed and sighed.

When the little "song bird" had finished crooning the hovering flying monkeys yelped, "she's very hot" and clapping club owner Bobby Marsino said he was thinking of taking a cold shower.

"You've become a big draw," Marsino told Hodges who knew right then she was truly on the righteous path when the boss man handed her an early birthday present. Slightly worried that the boss has a case of the hots for her, Hodges cautioned she already has a sturdy dildo who more than satisfies her sexual cravings.

"I buy gifts for my girls," Marsino grunted, as Hodges opened the small box, marveled at the trinket and then went home to do her hair.

At about the same time Raul Guittierez was planning a surprise of his own for Hodges. With the help of recipes borrowed from his mother he planned to cook up a nice Cuban feast, stuff and grease his babe's body and then in fine Genoa City tradition, have sex. Should a certain hunkmonkey named J.T. Hellstrom have any wacky idea of being home at the time well, the roommate would just have to make other arrangements.

But the more he thought about it the more slaving over a hot stove made Guittierez sweat. Why exert all that energy when he could simply throw a surprise party at Hodges' place of employment? If Amanda Hunnicutt could spring a party for Mac Browning at Walnut Grove Academy during the middle of a school day why shouldn't any employer want to put business on hold while one of the new employees is treated to a birthday bash? Hell, the boss would probably welcome the loss revenue and might even want to help.

Fame!
July 17, 2003

Contrived chastity is no more. Shoplifter Brittany Hodges has stepped up to the plate to symbolize Genoa City. The City is stunned. Preteen gum-snapping girls are frozen in awe. Oh, to grow up to be like Britt, they muse.
The culture is baffled now that Hodges, Genoa City's soured sweetheart, the irritating and eye-rolling skank, is no longer an employee of the rapidly falling apart Fenmore's Glowtique.

It's true. The tabloids are all abuzz with the now-verified news that Hodges did indeed stand before a small crowd of unshaven, rotten teeth dinkwads hoping to get a cheap thrill and take off her clothes Thursday deep inside the darkened "Gentlemen's Club" owned and operated by the heretofore unknown mobster, Bobby Marsino.

Shattering her Glow Worm image as a hypersexed flesh-curdling Nikki Reed wanna-be, Hodges was rolling in the dough when her act was over and the men in the front row cursed themselves for not having enough tissue to soak up the wet mess in their crotches.

The total take? $380 for a few minutes of gyrating. Not bad "after I got into it" Hodges giggled, lucky that for her first gig she didn't have to share the dirty money with the equally dirty boss man. There she was, licking her lips and taking off her clothes, smiling through the pain of her fame and her thong underwear and her unused dildo. How sad.

And now, Hodges can't get enough. She's had a taste of that fast cash. The tragic lack of someone to fill her sperm-stained slippers. What a grinning gyrating blank-faced pop-icon she's become.

And now it's onto bigger and better. The sweet and innocent Hodges girl the City once knew is gone. Now she's J-Lo. No doubt a record producer will be catching her act soon, signing Hodges up to produce an album packed with angst-torn lyrics written by someone else and all about getting it on and grinding it out in the backseats of hunkmonkey's '74 Dodge Dusters, of broken dreams and broken condoms and how creepily difficult it is to get the smell of the Gentlemen's Club out of her favorite Gucci leather jacket.
Ah, the fame.

Glow Worm quits shop of horror
by Molly Media
June 17, 2003

Much to the disappointment of her minimum wage paying employer Lauren Fenmore, teen heartthrob Brittany Hodges turned in her notice on Tuesday. Effective almost immediately she will no longer work at the mostly devoid of customers little shop of horrors known as the Fenmore Glowtique.

Once a star of the former Glow Worms Internet streaming video "live" from the Abbott pool where voyeurs into watching young boys and girls cover each other with oily suntan lotion and pull wedgies out of their butt cracks, Hodges informed Fenmore that she never was really into being a "star", but will always consider Fenmore a great boss.

Stifling a bout of the giggles and proving she's an utterly shameless little corporate bitch, Fenmore snarled at Hodges for having the audacity to turn her nose up at a damn good job. Where else in Genoa City could Hodges find an employer willing to keep an employee who never showed up for work on the payroll?

Hodges did not think for a moment and then remind Fenmore she never got paid for the time off so what was the bitch talking about? As for finding cushy jobs, hell, the city is riddled with them. No experience, no education needed jobs are a dime a dozen.

Fenmore also acknowledged that whatever shreds remain of her integrity and dignity as a trinket seller died long ago when she ignored Hodges and hacked that regardless of the fact she may have found employment elsewhere, Hodges is on the work schedule next week and expected to show up. The implication that sanctions would be imposed if Hodges didn't show was present but Fenmore didn't say what she'd do because, well, what could she do? Take away Hodges' sampling the merchandise privileges?

Slightly saddened that the Glowtique has been turned into a going to the chapel way station for former Glow Worm Mac Browning and her entourage, Hodges stopped by the newly opened Gentlemen's Club for her first look at the operation owner Bobby Marsino said could be her dream come true.

What Hodges saw was nothing more than a sleaze joint. Had the club been an XXX-rated video store there would have been righteous protestors picketing outside. That the club is tacky would be a compliment.

Given that most of the men who patronize places like this are out during the day trying to earn a living so as to save up enough money to see a dentist or buy a razor or find a doctor willing to prescribe Viagra, the club was for the most part, empty.

Eyeballing his newest sex object to be defiled and abused Marsino slithered up next to Hodges and asked her nonexistent singing ability. Claiming to know a few pop songs and show tunes from the late fifties, Hodges told Marsino it did not matter that she can't carry a tune. For the right money she'd wing it.

Before money issues could be discussed at length all eyes focused on the stage. It wasn't the stage Marsino should have been ordered by the Smut Police to leave town on. A curtain flew open and out pranced Misty Skye wearing only enough for the men who haven't had sex since 1973 to imagine what it might be like if Misty would let them suckle from her nipples and burp them.

As Misty began greasing a pole with her body and stripping down to just a pair of panties and a garter belt, Hodges realized she had been duped. Hadn't Marsino wanted a singer? Was the gangster wanting her to become the next Nikki Newman?

Marsino was taken aback. But sugar, it's not like that at all. Why, Misty there is a working mom with kids to feed. The more she takes off the more she makes. Who needs welfare when they can rake in big bucks degrading themselves? We are proud indeed to be doing America's work in these troubled times.

Feeling the men in the front row with their sunken eyes and rotten teeth gumming her body, Hodges felt dirty. She left Marsino alone to wallow in his Mafia snake pit and praise Satan for making it another wonderful day to be sucking the miserable nation dry of what few remaining family values it has and knowing full well that Hodges will be back.

Code Blue
April 22, 2003
by Brent Kellogg

Tucked away in the confines of the toilet she shares with one other girl and two dinkward monkey boys, one of these days I'm really really going to college student Brittany Hodges prepared Tuesday to squat and pee on a Lady Pregnancy Test strip.

"Damn! I wish those boys would learn to put the seat up or squat like we girls do," she may have thought to herself and made a note to remind Mac Browning it's her turn to wipe down the yellow stains.

With the seat in place Hodges released her pee and held the strip in place.

Pacing outside was Raul Guittierez. Why was a two minute pregnancy test taking an hour? Had the strip turned red and Brittany was right this minute flushing her head down the sewer? Was everything okay?

"It's blue!" Hodges called out.

For a moment Guittierez seemed confused. Blue? What was blue? The sky? Hell, he already knew it was the greatest day in his entire life. Blue? Did that mean the egg they were hoping for contained a male reproduction of himself?

"I'm not pregnant," Hodges squealed, realizing she had her life back and thanking the gods for sparing her the sad life of a teenage mother.

But Raul wasn't a happy camper. He was so looking forward to the struggle. Eighty hour work weeks at some minimum wage job, the smell of dirty diapers, marriage and the overall joy of parenthood.

Brittany saw Raul's sadness as a good sign his medication had clearly run out which is not to say it's utterly impossible to be driven absolutely fire-breathingly insane by the whole male-female relationship thing these two have going, but really now, isn't this just a perfect example of how absolutely mandatory and invaluable a skill it is to be able to learn to just shut up and chill and let life move through you and give you the lessons you need?

Hodges got part of the message. Guittierez may think playing daddy is cool but she's pretty much sick to death of his whole let's get married and raise the damn kids ranting. Still, she thanked Raul for being there. His devotion made her realize more than ever just how much she loves him and gosh, maybe some day when they finish college and have a real life they can try again unless one of those cheap rubbers Raul uses burst and they're forced to play out this scene over and over.

But in all seriousness, did this pregnancy scare not make you sort of go, holy christ, if this tiny remote seemingly insignificant incident isn't clearly indicative of the very core of Genoa City's anti-sexual woes, nothing is.

College truants take baby test!
April 21, 2003
by Lois Hill

Teen pregnancy is one of the most critical issues facing America today. The explosion of out-of-wedlock teen births is a crisis. Each year, one million American teenagers become pregnant. 175,000 give birth to their first child. As a result, Genoa City leads the United States with the highest teen pregnancy rate in the Western World.

But children of the rich and famous in this city have a warped sense of reality. Elite teens here have cavalier attitudes toward marriage and parenthood. The staggering costs of pregnancy among their kind are seen as nothing more than a challenge to be overcome. They worry not that most teen parents are less likely to complete school and more likely to go on welfare although those who do in this city are neatly tucked away never to be seen.

As a means to express their independence rich teens Billy Abbott, Mac Browning, Raul Guittierez and Brittany Hodges recently moved into a drafty downtown loft together. Generally rejected by their parents the teen's notoriety as washed-up Jabot Cosmetics Glow Worms has done nothing to pad their bank accounts.

Strapped for cash these college students rarely attend class preferring to spend their waking hours fondling plastic purses at Fenmore's Little Shop of Horrors, attending parties, running away from reality, making spur of the moment decisions to get married and patting themselves on the back for being so adult.

Barely able to get accepted at any of the finer colleges, Guittierez got a major break last year when he was accepted at Pemberton College in Boston on a scholarship. He turned his nose up at Pemberton opting instead to attend discredited Genoa City University, however. The semester nearly complete Guittierez has spent less than a day attending class and announced on Monday he had taken another day off from class to celebrate the return of his baby making machine, Brittany Hodges.

On their way out the door to attend their very first day at college, Abbott and Browning were stunned. Only hours ago their roomie was in pain over the disappearance of Hodges yet here she was in the flesh.

"When did you get back?" Browning asked.

Unfortunately, Hodges did not say, "Figure it out you fool. I wasn't here last night and here I am this morning. So, when did I get back?"

Browning was very peeved that Hodges hadn't awakened her during the night and might have seen Billy laying naked in bed with her - a shuddering thought - to say she had returned. But most of all Browning needed to know if her girlfriend is pregnant.

"I'm sure I am. I have all the symptoms," Hodges said, but had become confused as to exactly how far along she may be. The day before she told Guittierez she was seven weeks pregnant but during the night had lost a week.

"About six weeks," Hodges confirmed, noting too that she's so ignorant she hasn't bothered to see a doctor nor has she informed her parents of her return for fear of being scolded like some neglectful teenager.

The thought of living with Guittierez and Hodges and the soon to be sounds of a crying baby all night must have excited young Abbott as he blurt out that he and Browning intend to "tie the knot" next month.

Remarkably, Hodges wanted to know if the kids had sought their parents permission and was told that those on Abbott's side of the family were not happy.

"Isn't it great? Our two best friends getting married!" Guittierez crowed as Hodges offered her congratulations.

Happy as sheep on their way to the slaughter Abbott and Browning skipped off to school leaving Guittierez alone to tell Hodges she needs to find out if she's got a demon in her belly.

Had it not been for the fact they live over a strip mall it might have taken Guittierez a good thirty minutes to find a drugstore down the street. As it was he had only to run down to the 24-hour drugstore in the lobby and return less than five minutes with a Lady Pregnancy Test. The speed with which he was able to get a test kit even amazed Hodges.

"That was fast," she quipped, picking up their conversation in midstream with regard to what should be done if in fact there is a replication of their sorry souls growing inside her.

Sadly, at a time in life when these kids should be thinking of what they want to be when they grow up, Guittierez was in a numb state of flagellant fear. If his baby girl is pregnant they'll simply get married. Not because he thinks he loves her but because of the all important value of the family unit.

God knows that every single child ever born to the elite in Genoa City has grown up to become dysfunctional with serious personality disorders.

"How would we manage that? We have no money. I can barely keep track of my car keys. I'd be a lousy mother!" Hodges lamented, painfully aware of the reality.

Suffering from a major case of denial, Guittierez was adamant.

"I know we’re young but we can do this. I'll get a full time job," he bristled, totally without a clue that jobs nationwide are hard to come by for those with college degrees.

With nothing more than a high school education Guittierez's odds of finding a well paying job are slim and none. Not to mention how tired he'd be from changing diapers and trying to get sleep to even consider the option of attending school part-time.

The brief moment Hodges showed an ounce of common sense slipped into oblivion when she told Guittierez, "You're an amazing person."

It was interesting that before she went off to pee on a test strip Hodges did not tell Guittierez that she loves him, that she wants to marry him or that she wants to have a baby.

Teen pregnancy robs teens of their childhood and their futures as productive adults. It also robs their children, and their children's children. As a city, Genoa can no longer afford the consequences of teen pregnancy. For these reasons Hodges should not marry and should take the position that if she is pregnant she will put the child up for adoption.

Hodges claim; 7 weeks gestation
April 18, 2003

More than five weeks after her disappearance, local college student Brittany Hodges surfaced in Genoa City on Friday outside the apartment she shares with fellow students and maybe someday we'll actually go to college Billy Abbott, Mac Browning and boy toy Raul Guittierez.

Financially cut-off debutante and reformed skank, Hodges listened at the door as poor boy Guittierez sobbed over his expensive laptop computer, "I’m sorry that everything went wrong. Please call me again. We can work this out together. Why are you doing this to me?" he pecked on the keyboard when Hodges did not appear to him as a vision in some chat-room or instant messenger like she was just sitting back somewhere, crusin' the net and waiting for her man to come - online.

Then, as if it were a dream, Guittierez heard his babe's voice in the room. "You're back! I've missed you so much," he sniffled, as Hodges went on to say she never meant to hurt him by leaving the way she did but sometimes a girl has to inflict pain on those she's loves because it's the way people in Genoa City seek to bring liberation and freedom to those they care most about.

A bucket of admiration overwhelmed Hodges. "You're amazing," she told Guittierez who finally remembered that he had apparently knocked her up.

"Have you seen a doctor?" Guittierez asked.

"Shucks no Raul. It's just a beanie baby. No reason to see a doctor," Hodges did not say as the scene was just this stupid. Although she did say her period is seven weeks late, she's puking in the morning and her nipples are sore, Hodges saw no reason to involve the medical profession. Hell, in a way, who could blame her?

With new Privacy Practices in effect, doctors and pharmacies can notify whomever they damn well please if they suspect patients are not following certain medical guidelines regarding their health. This is the new all empowering big brother keeping the sheep in line. It may not be nice but this is the truth.

When Hodges mentioned that her breasts Guittierez suggested she get checked out but had second thoughts when she asked if maybe they should get one of those pregnancy kits from the drugstore.

"That can wait until tomorrow," he slurred, his palms itching to check out those sores and the bump in his pants growing. If there was to be any checking he would be doing it.

"Ooga - ooga. Me want Jane. Me like to screw pregnant girl. Me like to be daddy to kiddie I cannot afford to raise," Guittierez did not say but again, this was just how stupid it gets in Genoa City.

Give her some credit, Hodges wanted to call her parents to let them know she's safe but again Guittierez said no. Maybe tomorrow. Right now getting his rocks off was the important thing. It had, after all, been weeks since he'd had any.

Of course, because she's never been known to do the right thing, Hodges forgot all about her parents and appeared ready to drop to her kneepads on demand. It's exactly what every pregnant girl wants to do. That is, if she's really pregnant.

April 15, 2003
Abortion? Hodges girl not pregnant!
The Genoa City News has learned that the star of the Walnut Grove Academy 2002 production 'Much Ado About Nothing' and overall teen idol Brittany Hodges should resurface in Genoa City this week minus any sign of pregnancy.

Hodges disappeared recently when she feared lover-boy and frat fellow Raul Guittierez had "knocked her up" but eventually made contact weeks later via email to say she was pretty much okay and would be in touch.

Insiders tell the GCN that the reason Hodges has been gone so long is because she was making arrangements for, and actually had, an abortion. If this is true - and it may be a secret Hodges carries with her for years - it would be the first allowed abortion among the elite residents of this city since Ashley Abbott had the only other known abortion.

THE DAY THE CONDOM DIED
March 7, 2003
by Brent Kellogg

You could almost hear the the Bible-waving anti-sex "pro-family" clusters of self-righteous, two-minute-missionary-position Christians living in Genoa City wringing their hands and shuddering in a what is to become of us tizzy Friday after it was revealed that Brittany Hodges, an eighteen maybe twenty year-old who should have been in college instead of whacking off with a pack of Glow Worms selling knock-off designer trinkets at Fenmore's revived from the dead Jabot House of Glow, may be pregnant.

"I can’t believe she let Raul knock her up!" Glow Worm hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom huffed because he's just that smirky and kowtowing to the ultra-Right and apparently thinks women who have sex stop during the heat of the passion to check their partner's condom for holes.

Shocked and dismayed, Anita Hodges hauled Raul Guittierez before Brittany's father to explain his failure.

"How the hell did you let that happen?" Fred Hodges bellowed, as if poor Raul really had birth control on his mind as he pumped away atop Hodges' daughter that fateful day the condom died although the kid swore "we always used birth control."

Instead of looking for somebody to blame, Fred and Anita should have prayed long ago to their fire-breathing God that their own sadly under-informed, surely guilt-ridden, but still sexually ravenous teenage daughter wouldn't make their own casual, unfortunate, heat-of-the-moment backseat mistakes.

Mistakes which already have, due to these parent's lack of open sexual communication, or their refusal to talk about condoms, or the Pill, or to teach their kids to respect and appreciate and safely enjoy their bodies and their sexualities, or their lover's, or how to think for themselves and revere their own personal divine sexual procreative power, sent their daughter straight into a terrified, guilt-ravaged depressed state deeply afraid of telling her furious parents of the mistake, and hence suffering the painful - and potentially lethal - consequences.

The questions now are many:

Can these people stop trying to place blame long enough to actually understand that Brittany's pregnancy or lack thereof, is really none of their damn business?

Will Brittany stop feeling guilty and guilt-ravaged long enough to actually go to a drugstore - if she hasn't spent all her money on $3 cups of coffee - purchase a pregnancy test kit - not forgetting to put it in a brown paper bag - and find out if all the fuss and faux-drama isn't much ado about nothing?

If Brittany is pregnant the question becomes more complex. She can't have an abortion because everyone knows abortion in Genoa City is illegal. Besides, no one wants abortion. Isn't that reassuring? No one likes abortion. No woman anywhere in the entire world who accidentally and/or tragically and/or violently and/or sadly became pregnant and did not intend to, wants to suffer this, ever. No woman, by way of either mistake or unsafe sex or bad condoms or neglected birth control or immaculate conception or rampant misinformation or overly aggressive ignorant males, ever wants this done to her.

Seems like a foregone conclusion. And of course any attempt to stifle this natural law, any attempt to outlaw a woman's spiritually empowered right to terminate her own reproductive cycle, any attempt to control it with guilt and punishment and murderous ultra-right-wing Christian firebombs, simply results in more harm to women, more of the infamous, potentially deadly back-alley abortions featuring the ubiquitous coat hanger -- still in use, you can be assured, in many repressed states. This is not even a debate. This is what happens when you try to cram a personal religious-based ideology down everyone's throat.

Since there will be no abortion it would seem Raul and Brittany are left with only two choices. Give the baby up for adoption or do the right thing by getting married and raising their child. Hard to believe, but this could be the one opportunity to inject some reality into the otherwise mind-numbing events in this city. This is not to say that they have the baby and then dump it off onto the rich parents to raise or to be handed off to baby-sitters.

For once, let's see what kids having kids is really like.

IS SHE HAVING HIS BABY?
March 6, 2003
by Michael Kelly
 
Since the ignorant elite in Genoa City don't have access to the war mongering propaganda churned out constantly on the all-snooze stations and Phyllis Abbott is the only one in this city who's ever mentioned Saddam, the most intrigue and excitement these folks can spray their shorts over is the mysterious disappearance of financially cut-off debutante and reformed skank Brittany Hodges.

However, just when it appeared Thursday to be an especially slow news day in GC, Glowtique geek Raul Guittierez received an alarming internet message from Hodges in which she claimed she might be pregnant!

Before the Glowtique computer let out an audible beep and Guittierez received news his meaningless life might change forever, he and fellow feckless fops Mac Browning, Billy Abbott, and Jeffrey Todd "JT" Hellstrom had nothing better to do than discuss Britt's sudden GC powder with fairy godmother hen/employer Lauren Fenmore and Hodges' neurotically accusatory, imperious mama Anita.

Mrs. Hodges held Fenmore responsible for hiring Brittany because if she hadn't, the underachieving rich girl would be attending college in New York and wouldn't possibly be lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

But Fenmore had enough of the blame game from Jabot founder Yawn Abbott, who wanted Lauren to act as a combination security guard and chastity belt to prevent his niece Colleen and Hellstrom from getting too cozy and perhaps procreating. Lauren let it be known to Anita that perhaps her "snotty attitude" is to blame for daughter dearest going AWOL.

But once JT admitted he'd spoken to Hodges at the Java Hut that morning, everyone present pounced on his every syllable and acted as though he'd sold Britt to a white slavery ring.

While the oblivious mob wrung their hands, grimaced and glowered over Brittany's fate, Browning heard the cyber burp and quietly motioned to Raul to have a look.

When he did, Guittierez found an oh so convenient online chat query from Hodges herself!

Raul are you there? Silly question, but of course Raul had to ask a few of his own.

I'm here, but where are you, love buns? Are you all right? Are you sick? Did you run away from your so-called job and blow off GCU without once attending class because you found a guy with a penis that's not ingrown who isn't suspected of being a limp-wristed fudge packer because he works at a boutique surrounded by teeny bopper clothes and too many shades of eye shadow?

All right, he didn't ask Britt that last question, but probably should have. But imagine the shock and horror the diabetic must have felt when the unseen Hodges, who isn't even capable of wiping her own ass let alone take care of a child typed, "I think I'm pregnant!"

Of course, Clear Blue Easy and EPT pregnancy tests are easily found at any drugstore if one has an aversion to doctors or can't afford one. But perhaps for Hodges, taking such a test, to say nothing of swallowing a birth control pill or telling Guittierez to put a condom on his puny pecker is too taxing, unromantic, or inconvenient.

If the tube thing turns blue does that mean you're pregnant, pregnant with a boy baby, or not knocked up at all? Do you dip the stick in the toilet or collect the urine by shoving it up your, oh, this is so nasty and icky and unpleasant!

Maybe Raul will be so thrilled with the news he'll pass out cigars and start warbling She's Having My Baby!

If not, perhaps holy roller Mary Williams has a brochure lying around from St. Agatha's Home For Unwed Mothers. Is Rose DeVille still in town? She'll find a swell home for the little pygmy if the rich parents or the poor Mexicans don't want the responsibility of raising the rug rat.

But if Brittany doesn't want to get all fat and gross and end up with stretch marks that never go away, there's always the back alley and a trusty coat hanger if the Shrub administration has its way and takes away a woman's right to choose. Why is Ashley Abbott the last woman to have an abortion in this one horse town, anyway?

Then, there's the fact that blue balls Billy and virgin Mac might not take kindly to sharing an apartment with two stupid kids whose lives are ruined because they couldn't have safer sex. If that's the case, they'll have to move out or ask the parents-to-be to move out and then how will they afford this penthouse sized pad that looks suspiciously like the place Victor Newman used to live in?

These are just a few of the wacky, but stimulating thoughts that have likely been fluttering around Brittany's usually empty head while wondering if the rabbit is most sincerely dead. If Flopper is still among the living than all of the anxiety Hodges and Guittierez are experiencing may be a learning experience but is more likely much ado about nothing, which is the play that brought them together.