Birth Story--from the totally irrelevant perspective

This is my very first official "Birth Story" so I hope you like it, it took like 20 minutes to write:

Yesterday I worked from home, writing a paper.  I was pretty much tired of that by four-ish.  Manda asked me to make a spreadsheet of contraction times, so I recorded the hour, minute and exact second of each one, which was kind of boring.  I got some photo gear together, always fun in a menshteklieber way.  Then we drove off in the car.  I hate driving.  I chatted about random things, but Manda had to occasionally pause in the middle of a sentence to breathe hard.  I was pretty patient with that.  Eventually Manda said that her water had broken, but it didn't look like it got on the seat which is cool. We got to the birth center and after Manda walked out of the car I took the initiative to drive the car into the garage.  I was grabbing stuff out of the trunk--more stuff than I should have been expected to grab in one trip, really--when I thought I heard a baby cry.  Naw, I thought, that's just your mind playing tricks on you.  So I grabbed all the stuff--enough to fill four arms I tell you--and walked all the stinkin' way back to the back of the birth center and saw Manda sitting on the floor, surrounded by midwife-types and with Littlest in her arms.  She didn't even bother waiting until I was there!  I stretched out on the bed next to Manda and Littlest and ate granola bars for a while--they were totally gross, Manda didn't even think of packing food for me, can you believe it?  I had to go to the bathroom which was kind of gross because women, like, give birth in there.  I took a bunch of pictures [of the baby, not the bathrooming] which allowed me to practice in changing-color-temperature situations, because the natural light coming in the frosted glass windows was waning.  I got really hungry so volunteered to go down the street and grab some food.  A meth-addict woman asked me for some fries and I said sure, and I even bought her a dollar-menu-McDouble without her having to ask for it.  That's the type of person I am, you know?  I ate one whole McChicken before even getting back to the birth center.  Driving in SF stinks.  They put way too much mayo on my sandwich.  Manda was a little disappointed that I only got her one sandwich, but c'mon, I only got the meth woman one sandwich too, and she was probably starving to death.  When I got back, they were still poking Littlest with things, helping him breastfeed, yadda yadda.  So I stretched out on the bed for a while until we came home, a little late for my tastes since I had woken up at 6:20 in the morning to play basketball and was totally exhausted.  Manda was doing breast-related stuff so she needed a light on but I managed to fall asleep soon enough.  Not too bad, all told.  People generally are way too dramatic about how hard it is to have a baby.  Take away the crappy food and all the driving and it was pretty much a normal errand.