30 Days At 30

I've been 30 for 30 days. I do feel different, but I am not entirely convinced it's because of I've entered a new decade of my life.

Do you know what I did last night? I was outside late at night, the snow was coming down and I was appreciating the way the whole neighborhood looks brighter with all the white roofs. And it's so quiet. I enjoyed it.

Of course, I was freezing my non-existent balls off praying for the fucking weather to turn into sunshine and summer when I had to scrape the ice and snow off of all of my windows this morning. But it was nice last night.

Here I Am, Once Again... (not torn into pieces just yet)

Somewhere in my foggy brain is the self-induced expectation that I can't create a new Post without spending HOURS compiling all of things I've wanted to say in the last 10 weeks 5 days.

I am now realizing that nothing is as I expect and so FUCK IT! Here I am. I would love to catch up on the wonderfulness of being a new Mommy and tell you how fucking perfect my son is... but I've decided, rather, to skip over some of that (only for now) in an effort to get back in to the habit of typing my happy ass off for reasons unrelated to my job.

I have returned to work. I am fortunate enough to be able to work from home four days a week. Although I have been in the office 3 days this week. Hmmm... new math sucks.

More on the pity-party that is my financial situation another day. For now, it's Friday and I'm trying to keep things in perspective. I can do this one of two ways: Find the good and positive in things OR dwell on others misfortune so that my shit doesn't seem so bad.

I'm a cynic and, therefore, I choose to dwell.....tick....tock....hrumph. As I sit here trying to think of others misfortune with which to dwell upon, all that comes to mind is some of my own shit. UGH! Okay, let me try the good and positive point of view...I have my health. My family is safe and warm. My bedtime always comes. That's about it.

I watched last nights Barbara Walters special. I can't stand to listen to Michael Phelps speak, so I fast forwarded past that. Rush Limbaugh enjoys getting people all fired up, so I won't even entertain the idea of describing how much I loathe him. I wouldn't want to make him happy. Tom Cruise is trying to calm his crazy down... that's nice to see. I like to look at Miley Cyrus... I do. She's gorgeous. And funny to boot. Will Smith rocks. Tina Fey is spectacular. Sarah Palin was the best decision John McCain made in an effort to help Obama win. The actor in the new Nixon movie looked old as I fast forwarded past him. Thomas the pregnant man is pregnant again. Jesus! Let your body heal dude. (PS - As long as the baby is loved and cared for, I don't give a shit how she got here or what the internal workings of her father/birth mother are) And then... the man who makes me cry when he speaks. GOBAMA BABY! I forgot to record last weeks interview with him, but Babwa Wa-Wa's asked him if he thought people were expecting too much out of him. I am. And so are my friends.

I have discovered television on YouTube. I mean, I always knew I could find clips of programming and stand up comics and funny videos, but I just found out I can watch full episodes of stuff (in ten minute increments, of course). My most recent viewings: Intervention: Allison, Intervention: Emily and the E! True Hollywood Story of Home Improvement. Yeah, I'm random like that. So, if you have any programs to recommend, I'm all eyes.

A Letter To My Friend

Dear Internet:

I've missed you terribly and hope that we can re-establish our friendship soon. Until then, I leave you with this query:

How much time can two people in a two income household be off without pay until their world implodes?

Stay tuned...

The End Of dy Two

So, here I sit. Still in the hospital, still no labor, still no baby. Last night, I gained some gel to thin my cervix, but I lost my beloved Nurse Kelly. In exchange, I got Nurse Jen, Nurse Jennifer and for all of today so far, Nurse Margaret. All of them competent, but none as lovely. Sigh...

The gel was administered at around 7:00pm last night. Dr. Assad politely offered to allow Nurse Kelly to put it in instead of him, which I thought was a wonderful idea after the "dig" from earlier. Kelly then informed us that in her 12 years, she had never had a Dr. bow out of that gig. I think I scared him off. Around 5am, they took it out and around 6am, they started the Pitocin drip. My Dr., Vagina Ripper, stopped in to visit around 2:15p to let me know that this was probably going to take a few days and that she was going to have the drip turned off around 5:00pm and we would start it all over tonight. I finally started contracting around 4:00pm, but it was too late. So, here I am... belly full with Chili Cheese Fries and cervix full of more gel to try and get things moving. Tomorrow morning, they will start the Pitocin again.

In the meantime, I know a girl who's sister in law works here as a labor and delivery nurse and she just stopped in to see us. It makes up for the other competent, efficient, by the book nurses I have gotten today.

If nothing happens with tomorrows induction attempt, VR is going to schedule a C-Section. She is convinced that my Placenta is trying to shut down and doesn't want to rely on it for anything else. It's not the best case scenario, but VR has been opposed to C-Sections and Inductions everytime we've talked about it, so I have faith that she thinks it's for the best and not just a ploy to get her to her dinner date tomorrow night on time.

We shall see.


PS - Dr. Assad had to come in this time to do the cervix gelling and tore me up again. I'm pretty sure I have scared him off for good. If he's a resident, he might surely change his mind about Obstetrics :)

You Can Block MySpace, But You Forgot About Blogger!

Yes, I am totally blogging from the hospital right now. It's not that I'm obsessed, it's that I had to pay to watch any other channel besides The TV Guide Channel and with the television came the internet. MySpace is blocked content, but this isn't!!!

Anywho, on to the update: Definitely low on amniotic fluid. Definitely staying at hospital. Definitely inducing labor. They are going to start with the gel in about another hour and a half or so, then around 5:00 tomorrow morning they are going to the "next level" with Pitocin. I am currently on hold for ordering dinner with the fantastic system they have called "on-call dining". I'm not going to lie right now I am enjoying the hospital more than home a little bit. I know that's all going to change drastically, but if I have to hang out in a hospital, waiting for gels and drips, at least I can eat and blog.

We got here about 12:30. Dr. Assad tried to find the Hope Fucking Diamond, which he apparently assumed was located somewhere BEHIND my Uterus, and half an arm North. OMG! No, he did not find what he was looking for, I told him he had a future in archaeology though. Right after I sobbed uncontrollably from the pain. I'm good now. Nurse (and Midwife in training) Kelly ROCKS and I am so glad she is mine until 11:00pm. I hope the next one gets my jokes.

Husband is great. Loves his chair. And all of the phone calls. I don't think he thought that's what was meant by "Support Person" hehehehehehehehe He's wonderful and Post-Partum, I swear, I'll make it up to him.

That's it for now. Maybe there will be more posts before I leave here. Maybe not. Sorry for typos an whatnot. Keyboard sucks and has limited mouse functions. I have no patience to try and spellcheck.

Why, Yes I Do Know Where My Priorities Are (Thank You For Asking)

Went to "Vagina Ripper" yesterday. We're four days past due. I was sent home with a prescription for an Ultrasound to gauge his size and a prescription for twice weekly non-stress tests. Well, we made it to one appointment.

At 7:30 this morning, Husband and I marched our happy asses into the Fetal Imaging Center. Our Lady Sonogram Tech checked his heartbeat (I saw it) and stated he was measuring about 8 lbs 8 oz, and then, after putting a towel over my tummy (not cleaning up the gel), said those dreaded words... "I'm going to go check my pictures and I'll be right back" Why are these dreaded words, you ask? Well, because this isn't our first time in this Center. And one of the other times we were in, after we found out our baby was fine, we asked the tech if they had ever had to deliver bad news. She informed us that she never has, that protocol is to say they are going to "check the pictures" and then they grab a doc to doublecheck their findings. Sure as shit, tech lady came back with Dr. Somethingorother. After he checked her findings, informed us that the amniotic fluid was low. They called Dr. VR, who called me and said something to the effect of "I'm gonna need you to go ahead and start on to the hospital so we can begin induction methods today". Well, it could be a couple of days. I have had no progress and, therefore, induction is likely to be a slow-go... so, we'll see if this baby doesn't make it here by Saturday.

Call it ironic, call it foreshadowing, call it Maternal Instinct: I have been considered about amniotic fluid levels throughout my pregnancy... have obsessed about it really. To the point where I had VR check it more than once in fear that I was leaking. I was not. I have also been concerned that I wouldn't know when my water breaks. Low amniotic fluid could be caused by a few things. One is my dehydration (entirely possible), one is my water broke and I don't know it, another is that I've passed my due date and my placenta has decided it's done doing it's job. Regardless of the cause, it has happened. It can cause a few problems, none that I will dwell on now.

Right now, I'm going to jump in the shower, eat some breakfast, tidy up me house and head to hospital.

Buh-bye.

P.S. - I've also always felt that I would have to be induced and/or a C-Section. Induction? CHECK! C-Section? TBD...

Rants

I swear to Pete. If you're going to be against Obama, could you please come up with something more creative than "he's got ties to terrorism"? I mean, seriously. I won't judge Grandpa McCain for his inability to use e-mail, you stop with your "terrorist" shit. Get pissy about something relative... like his stand on abortion... or his feelings about drilling for oil in these here United States... or, hey, I would even prefer it if you just said "I don't want a black President", at least those things are true. Snopes, people... use it.

Further, as if the City of Detroit needed to make one more move to prove how fucking retarded they are. Kwame is out on Thursday (whoo-hoo!) and the City Council President, Kenneth Cockrel, Jr. is to step in on Friday. The remaining City Council members had a special meeting today to decide whether to hold a Special Mayoral Election or not in May 2009. Here are the facts... If there is a Special Election, then Cockrel will have to campaign for the spot through May (while acting as Mayor in the interim). If there is no Special Election, then Cockrel keeps the position and has to campaign for the next regular Election, in November 2009. The Special Election will cost three million dollars. CDD voted IN FAVOR OF a Special Election. That's right.. they are willing to spend THREE MILLION DOLLARS on SIX months of Mayor. That's just over $16,500.00 per day. Can we step back for twelve seconds and reflect upon the fact that part of the reason Kwame is out comes down to him spending nine million City dollars to cover up a wrongful termination? Nice D-Town. Nice job, indeed. Hey, listen... if you could have a shit ton of meetings about how to have less meetings, you might be more respected.

And to some of you morons in Texas: I saw you holding your ground, waving your flags, staring Ike in the eye, prepared to defend your homes against the wrath of wind and rain and, guess what? IKE WASN'T A TERRORIST! STAYING HOME WAS NOT AN ACT OF PATRIOTISM! AND NOW YOU HAD TO BE RESCUED! And what did we learn? Oh, yeah, mandatory evacuations should not be taken lightly!! At least you'll have a story to sell. Awesome.

Baby Update: The Lord of the Dance on My Bladder is not here yet. Not going to work tomorrow. Nothings wrong. Nothings happening. Have no fear. Just taking the day off.

Maybe It Does Work

After a week of energy-saving, window-opening, smells a lot like Fall weather... here it is, 11:00 on a Friday night in Mid-September and I just closed all of my windows to turn on the air. WTF? Hello Muggy! Thanks for stopping in! My energy bill thanks you!

WARNING! ABOUT TO BLOG ABOUT MY VAGINA!

I have had an excellent pregnancy. For real. I've had a lot of the minor complaints and a few strange complaints, but I haven't had nearly the problems I thought I would. I've only gained 14 pounds (okay, I gained 18, but have lost four in the last two visits) I just KNEW I was going to get Gestational Diabetes. I did not. I was CERTAIN I would end up with Preeclampsia. Nope. I was TERRIFIED of ending up on bed rest. Not so much. (Well, other than the self-prescribed daily naps) So, here it is. Week 39 and 5 days, due on Sunday and... nothin. Not a thing. No worthy dilatation. No effacement. No Braxton-Hicks. NO PROGRESS! Until yesterday.

Wednesday I went to OB, whom I will now refer to as "Vagina Ripper". She checked my cervix and, after obviously trying to single-fingeredly drag my entire cervix OUT of my body, proudly proclaimed I was at ONE centimeter. Well, I wasn't when I walked in!! She informed me that she will probably let him go to 14 days past due, since my body isn't doing anything. Inducement is useless, unless I want to spend three days in the hospital just WAITING for the Pitocin to kick in. I'm okay with this. I don't mind waiting until he's ready. As long as my body shows promise that it's not going to fail me. Last night, it proved it's worth. I found a bit of pink after I peed. HOORAY! My body doesn't SUCK! Today, I found a bit of red. WHOO-HOO!! Bring it on! Okay, so all this really means is that labor is hours, days or weeks away (no shit), BUT it also means so much more to me. That my body will not have to be medicated into cooperation (hopefully) and that Lord of the Dance on My Bladder MIGHT not need to be evicted by Intravenous Hormones and Surgical Instruments! This is good. This is very good.

P.S. I have a complaint about this whole "sex during pregnancy" topic. To me, there are three parts of "sex during pregnancy" - a) Penetration b) My Cheeri-O c) Husbands Cheeri-O. I hear that the prostaglandins in semen act to thin out the cervix, BUT when the suggestion is made to have sex to induce labor... is it possible that any of the three Acts of the Play have their own Role? I mean, all of these people who are having sex to induce and get nowhere with it... maybe it's the female Orgasm that jump starts it... or just the Penetration itself. Frankly, the Penetration hurts, but I'm all for the other two Acts. They should be more specific. If it's my Cheeri-O, then I don't HAVE to endure the pain of Penetration. And if it's Penetration, then give me all of the phallic objects that you can sterilize and we'll just run a train 24/7 until he arrives. Of course, if it is entirely Husbands Cheeri-O, then I see an opportunity for both of us to "work from home" selling his essence on Craigslist to overdue pregnant women.

P.P.S. I think I just had a contraction. Um. I'm going to go pack the bag I've been putting off. I might need it.

Hello Weekend!!

So, as I sit here trying to print return address labels for Thank You Cards that should have gone out WEEKS ago, with a bum ink cartridge, I am pondering a few things.

Kwame - Goodbye fucker!!
Obama - How you doin? ;)
Palin - Really? Pro-lifers are commending you for NOT aborting your son with Down Syndrome? How kind of you.
Weekend - HI! I really hope we can accomplish a few things together. Probably I oughta pack a bag or something. Maybe get around to cleaning up the calcified cat vomit and, hey, if we're really feeling froggy, maybe we can take the vacuum for a spin through the tumbleweeds of fur running rampant in my living room, eh?
Fall - Welcome friend. You smell lovely. I'll see you at the Cider Mill. I'll be the one toting the Teeny Edamame in a blue bundle. Just give me a few weeks.
Childbirth - This is going to hurt isn't it? Ah, fuck. Sigh.
Parenthood - More painful than childbirth? I'm guessing so...
Internet - Soon, my dear, we may have to take a brief hiatus. I'll miss you. Stay tuned.
Friends - So, can any of you cook? Because, seriously, I don't know if I've explained to you how awful Husband's cooking truly is (he's great on the Grill, but don't let him try to get creative) and I may need to eat. I've cleaned out my freezer for you... you do the math...

I'm determined to finish these cards TONIGHT!

Dear Gustav

Dear Gustav,

Please stop wreaking your havoc on, near and around my friends. I am cozy in my non-hurricane, non-typhoon, non-earthquake area of The Mitten, but I have friends who have had more ambition than me to leave this fair state. They have travelled to far and wonderful places to enjoy sunny skies and year round beach access. I have one friend who lives on the Gulf in Florida and one who lives on the Grand Island of Cayman. But you're fucking with them!! You can't seem to make up your mind. I think perhaps you should have been named for a female this time around. And for crying out loud, stay away from New Orleans. NO ONE'S GOING TO THROW YOU ANY BEADS!

Love, Lisa

P.S. My grass is yellow. I hear that people who care about such things would like some rain. Feel free to pop in to The Mitten (preferably with much less anger)

Quote(s) Of The Month

I gave up on cartoon humor long ago. Right around the time South Park decided to shit their credibility all over fans everywhere with the wretched South Park Movie.

However, these days, I find myself laughing out loud at...sigh...Family Guy. I know, I know... it's immature. It's potty humor. It's over the top characters with over the top characterizations. I know. I KNOW! But I laugh dammit. And it feels good! And it's on A LOT. I find myself bouncing between three different networks in the course of one evening, just to catch an episode I haven't seen before. Ugh.

Anyhow, whether it be that hormones have turned my sense of humor to that of a 15 year old boy, or that the show is really that funny, I feel it necessary to honor the hard work of the writers of the show on this Labor Day Weekend, with some of my favorite Stewie quotes (compliments of www.familyguyquotes.com)

-Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but you're a total bitch, so bye!

-I bet you lost your virginity to a mechanical bull.

-Oh damn! Jeremy is still in the trunk! How long has it been, two weeks? Yeah, he's dead.

-You know, I rather like this God fellow. Very theatrical, you know. Pestilence here, a plague there. Omnipotence ... gotta get me some of that.

-(On reading the Bible)"My my, what a thumping good read, lions eating Christians, people nailing each other to two by fours. I'll say, you won't find that in Winnie the Pooh.

-Let me tell you something Nessa, a bullet sounds the same in every language. So stick a fucking sock in it you cow!

-HA! That's so funny I forgot to laugh... excluding that first Ha

-(to Death): Love your work

-Blast you and your estrogenical tyranny!

-The ruptured capillaries in your nose belie the clarity of your wisdom.

-Why you tottering, fen-sucked dewberry! I'm going to go find something to strike you with! Excuse me.

-Lois: Here comes the airplane, Stewie.
(Stewie swats spoon)
Stewie: The pilot of that plane must have been JFK Jr.

Pizza

Informed Husband today that it's okay for him to want pizza. I know he's eating pizza alone and not telling me. That he shouldn't just assume that if he tells me he wants pizza that I will want to share his pizza with him. That frankly, I'm not really into his pizza right now, his pizza hurts and makes me feel unattractive, but that, rather than each of us eating pizza and not telling the other one, we could each eat our own pizza in the same room at the same time. We don't have to try each others pizza, but company is nice.

I think he understands now.

Saturday - Part Four ... er, Sunday?

Sunday brought with it a chilly day filled with a ton of closure on The Room. Baseboards in! Mini blinds up! Crib ready to go up! Good day with Husband, Dad and Sister, all present and accounted for. My favorite type of day.

We went to dinner. A debacle ensued. Not to bore with too much commentary other than this: Dad wanted to try a place that I am not a fan of. He came to regret this suggestion an hour and half into our visit. Primarily because a server spilled Scampi butter all over Husband (shortly after he had already dumped a Coke on himself) and the VERY EXPENSIVE meal Husband and Dad both ordered were under cooked and required a trip back to the kitchen. All in all, two and a half hours later, well beyond my Sister's bed time and well beyond the point of exhaustion for all of us, we finally got to leave. A visit from the Manager and some much deserved crediting of our bill did soothe the frustration a wee bit.

The bigger problem of the evening was that my back started to hurt about 20 minutes into our seating. Fortunately, me being one with my body (and just having gone through this two weeks ago), I was well aware of what this little pain was about to do to my evening. Straight down hill from there. You see, when one kidney passes a stone, it is not unusual for the other kidney to have a similar storm a-brewin... sigh... by 11:30pm, we were on our way to the hospital again, with me in more agony than last time. And much like the last time... a few blocks from the hospital the pain ceased. Husband did not like my plan of turning around and going home, but I convinced him that there is nothing they can do. It was out of my kidney (the real pain) and they can't go in and get it out of my ureter/urethra/bladder until after Lord of the Dance on My Bladder has been evicted. So, he relented and we went home. The difference with this one is obvious to me. It is much bigger than the last one. It hurt more and it isn't passing out with my urine. It is lodged somewhere, but since it isn't backing up my urine entirely, I do get some relief each time I use the bathroom.

As it turns out, although there is no REAL admitted link between pregnancy and kidney stones, it is not as uncommon as one might think. It seems that Calcium supplements can cause stones. Not only is there Calcium in my everyday prenatal vitamin, but I, much like many women, take an ADDITIONAL Calcium supplement everyday to make up for my lack of dairy intake. Natural Calcium, not so much the cause of kidney stones, but supplements? Definitely a link.

I have had a terrific pregnancy. I really can't complain about much, but I can say that the kidney stones alone may make this last month more intolerable than it's meant to be. I can only hope that I won't get another. I've read of women getting as many as 4 during their pregnancy and having to have stents put in to hold up their various parts, just so urine can pass. No thank you very much.

So, Dear What to Expect When You're Expecting: You don't even mention this possibility. You're fired.

Sincerely,

The Lady With Knives and Stones who would very much like to remove her entire vagina at this point.

P.S. I also learned this week that too much Pineapple can burn a whole in your tongue AND that Meconium is made up, in part, of ingested Lanugo and Vernix Caseosa. That's right, when baby starts losing this stuff in utero, preparing for birth, it doesn't just sit around floating in amniotic fluid, waiting to dispense from your body like normal waste... baby ingests it!! Reminds me of just how primal we really are. Underneath the opposable thumbs and the ability to speak and walk upright lies these vary basic instincts to ingest those things with which we have no other ways of disposing. Quite interesting to me. Enjoy your meal!

Saturday - Part Three

Refreshed from my nap and feeling all is well. Husband's progress on his 45's seems to make him happy. Looking forward to going to see my Dad. (We interrupt this program for a short marital spat - okay...and...done!)

Dad's band was playing outdoors at a Boat Club downriver. Here's the kicker: My Mother and my Brother (and his Girlfriend) were all planning on attending. Why is this a kicker you ask? Well, let's see how I can sum this up right quick:

My Brother emancipated himself from our family at the age of 16 in favor of a life that has taken him from skipping school to pot to one teen parent to heroin to two more kids to breaking and entering to domestic violence to state taking children away to heroin to meth to Arizona to hell and back. My Brother is 34 years old and has been back in this state since December of last year. He has run my entire family through the wringer time after time after time to the point where only my Mother would still speak to him. My Dad and I kept our distance. After 8 months of seemingly drama-free existence, we are both slowly allowing him back in to our lives. With trepidation and cautious optimism, we watch from afar and pray that he won't hurt us again. This particular evening was the first time he's been seen by many in over 15 years.

My Mother, for various reasons, turned her own life upside down when I was 14. Choosing a life consisting of drugs, thugs and fear over that of the safe haven I was accustomed to. Years later, we have, at best, a rocky relationship. It's getting better though. She, too, has alienated many in her life... after many years, she and Dad have a friendly relationship and this particular evening was the first time SHE's been seen by many.

I wasn't going to miss this for the world.

Growing up, my Dad's music shaped our lives. Every weekend, his band was playing at some local bar. Friday and Saturday nights, my Brother and I would stay with friends or at home while my Mother went out to have a good time listening to good music with some good friends. The band (in any of it's carnations) was always a tight group where the "Band Wives" were either related or just acted like they were. The kids of these band members were all friends and when the band played where we could get in (Hart Plaza, Strawberry Festival, Street Fairs) we all felt connected to each other as if we had something none of our other school friends would ever share.

The evening went well. The band sounded great, people were having a good time. Some of my Mom's old friends (the band and their wives and a niece thrown in for good measure) were there and accepted her presence as if time had stood still. She drank, she danced, she chatted and it was like a time trip. They were a little more leary of my Brother, but friendly all the same and seemed to enjoy the fact that the four of us were in the same room. And then, someone had a smashing idea... one I wish I had thought of... how about a picture?



You see, these photos are something rare. As it turns out, the last time the four of us were in a picture together was 1990. NEARLY TWENTY YEARS since the last time we were all in a photo together. This blew my mind. It was surreal. I know for some people it doesn't seem like a big deal. But this is my family. Both of my parents have remarried. My Mother has taken in some kids from her Husbands family, my Dad has had another child (who is most awesome by the way) and gotten divorced again, but this? THIS is the family I grew up with. This was all I ever knew. This was a happy group while I was growing up. This was the quintessential one boy, one girl, one couple who openly loved each other and were envied by so many for their passion and commitment to each other. This is my history. And I didn't realize how much I missed it until this particular evening. I wouldn't trade my little sister in for the world and I had an incredible relationship with my Step-Mom who nearly made me forget the pain my real Mom has caused me and my Mother is married to a terrific man ... but if different choices had been made, these pics wouldn't have been so few and far between. These kinds of pictures would fill up all of the disk space on my computer. These pictures wouldn't carry such a magnitude of emotion with them. This particular post wouldn't even need to exist at all.

Saturday - Part Two

I know, I know... it's Saturday AGAIN and I'm still talking about last weekend... but seriously... WTF?

Last Saturday morning I was in high spirits (a little down about Bernie Mac, but maintaining a level head anyhow), when I decided I would get some shit done damn it!! Husband was intently focused on 45 degree angles on base boards and I was avoiding laundry... the plan: Go to Hardware store. Take back light bulb. Exchange for furnace filter. Go to National Retailer. Take back defective soap dispenser. Buy some great items for baby's room at great prices. Buy other stuff while I'm there that we will need before his arrival (things like bottles... thermometers... dressers...maybe toss in a diaper bag if I'm really feeling froggy). Fuck, this is going to be a looooooooong trip.

Armed with my list and some spare cash, I headed out with my shoulders back and my head held high, fully aware of the battle zone I was going to be entering. And owning it. Hardware store - CHECK! Furnace Filter - CHECK! National Retailer - where'd the fucking rain come from? Wow... think I'll wait it out a minute in my car - CHECK! Blue skies... begin trek into store... get the fuck out of my way people, I'm comin in! First step inside first door and down I went. That's right! All of my preparedness, all of my guts and glory, all of my spunk... all...slid...down...to...the...floor...with...the...first...step...in...UGH! Yes, I'm fine. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, I'm fine.... GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME AND FOR THE LOVE OF PETE DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING ME TO HELP ME UP! "What fuckin brain trust used painted concrete as an entrance floor?" <--- yep... at the top of my lungs I did shout this. Shake it off... head to Service desk. Inform them that I have a return and people are falling over there. Ignored.
"Do you have a Yellow Tag?"
"Umm, what?"
"I can't take this return without a Yellow Tag"
"No, I don't have a Yellow Tag"
"Didn't a greeter give you a Yellow Tag"
"NO, I was too busy FALLING for anyone to notice I had anything in my hand"
"You need to go get a Yellow Tag" (this is twice my falling reference has been ignored) "I need you to go get a Yellow Tag or I can't take this return"
Head to door, wait patiently for three minutes while a few employees ignore me. Shout at the top of my lungs: "Does anyone have a FUCKING YELLOW TAG for me?"
Yellow Tag provided promptly.
Head back to Service Desk. Moved to front of line.
"I'm sorry, but it's just our policy"
"I understand... can we move this along... I want to go home now"
"Did a greeter help you up?"
"I don't know... please take my return so I can GO HOME NOW"
"I'm just trying to help you"
"If you WANT to HELP me, you will GET this DONE so I can GO HOME!!!"
Exit store. Get in car. Drive home. Bust in back door. Sob uncontrollably from nerves and embarrassment. The fall wasn't enough to hurt the baby, but I'm nervous all the same. Counted kicks, everything's fine. I ended up calling the store and filing an incident report. There went my big plans for getting "shit done damnit!" so I napped.

Saturday

Bernie Mac died ... sad.
My Grandma doesn't understand the concept of snopes ... irritating.
Slept on the couch last night, in my jeans ... uncomfortable.
Our Dunkin Donuts pissed me off last week ... boycotting.
The new M.I.A. song is fucking awful ... disturbed.

Yes, these things are what plague my mind today. Oh sure, I could focus on the laundry, cleaning, shopping, starting on stuff I brought home from work or helping Husband finish The Room, but why? When other such monumental crises exist?

I guess it's better than stressing about money, mortgages, job security and maintaining relationships ... I'll save those for Tuesday.

Tickle the Piggy

See my Piggy? Click it! Blog the Recession!!!

Motherhood Uncensored has a great idea to help out some people who actually make money to blog (you know you wish you were one of them anyway, so CLICK IT, DAMMIT!)

Besides, there's some funny ass shit out there (Click through my Blog List to find out). I wish I could get paid for READING blogs all day...

CLICK THE PIGGY!!!!!! CLICK MY BLOG LIST!!!!!!

Vagina Knives

In an effort to put off the inevitability that this will become a Mommy Blog, I have refrained from posting too many stories about my pregnancy. But, I couldn't let this one go.

For the last month and a half, or so, I've been getting shooting pains in my cervix. I am currently 33 weeks pregnant, so there is no real likelihood that this has been any sort of labor indication.

When I first presented this "uncomfortable feeling" (read: feels like Freddy Krueger is knifing my cervix in a dark alley next to a dumpster, while tiny fingers and/or toes attempt to dislodge themselves from the comfort of my uterus and sneak out for a quick diddle), Doc checked that everything was closed up and told me not to worry. Two weeks later, when the pain was still hanging around, Doc told me it was typical pregnancy vaginal pain. I politely disagreed with her... I'm not new here... I have had my share of cervical pokes from multiple angles with multiple tools. This is CERVICAL pain. Ultimately she decided she hadn't really heard of such a thing, but that I probably have a very sensitive cervix and that the swoosh of amniotic fluid is irritating some nerves (I, at this point, feel compelled to jump to the conclusion that labor might be extra painful for someone with a "sensitive cervix" - For real... if I can feel the amniotic fluid, imagine what dilation is going to feel like!!! Can I get an epidural now?)

Fast forward to the previously mentioned trip to the ER. Julie, the lovely Midwife, asked about anything out of the ordinary and I mentioned the semi-regular rendezvous with Mr. Krueger. She said she has heard the complaint a few times in the last few months and the only thing she or any of the docs on the L&D floor can come up with is that it is a sensitive cervix. HOORAY!

I am still told this is nothing to worry about... but, me being me, had to find out what other people are experiencing... I'm not paranoid, I just want to be educated. So this evening, I Googled "Pregnant Cervical Pain" and quite a few postings came up. The one that is most intriguing to me is the name that some Doctors have given it....... you guessed it............ Vagina Knives. LAUGHED MY ASS OFF!!! Perfect name, really. So, I have Vagina Knives. I'm not sure if it sounds more like a Porn Star, a Tarantino character or a species on Star Trek, but I am DAMN amused.

Vagina Knives!! HA!

Sincerely,
Love,
Signing Off,
Vagina Knives

Multi-tasking

After a VERY lazy Sunday, yesterday, I fell asleep on the couch around midnight. Husband is not a fan of me missing from our bed, so he woke me up around 3:20am to finish my slumber in the comforts of our own room.

Before I went back to sleep, I stopped in the bathroom to pee and felt like there was a giant gas bubble right under the placenta. I ignored it, because at 3:20am, I want to ignore such things. But, alas, ignoring the bubble lead to movement of the bubble... to my back. To my lower right back to be specific. And then, it was all downhill from there...

For the next two hours, I moaned and groaned and shifted positions and tried to squeeze whatever pain this was OUT... I tried pooping, I tried massaging, I tried crying and throwing a tantrum, but nothing would move this pain... it was an excruciating pain... one I thought was probably not good for the baby. OH MY GOD, AM I IN LABOR???? No, I decided... I was not... but I probably oughta call my doctor. Two hours straight of writhing in pain cannot be normal.

I'm a considerate wife. I let Husband continue his sleep until his normal wake-up time of 5:30. At which point, I told him I was pretty sure he was going to have to call in so that we could take a trip to the Emergency Room. I had also come to the conclusion that this must be coming from my kidney. Pain radiating from my back around to the front rhythmically in waves... AND NOT BUDGING FROM THAT SPOT. I wanted to jab a crochet hook into my kidney in hopes that it would relieve some of the pressure I was feeling.

I called my Doctor, who was a little irritated that I was calling at 5:30 in the morning (I didn't mention that I could have called her at 3:30, but opted against it, on the off chance it was gas... how embarrassing would that have been?!?) She told me that she didn't know what it was and couldn't rule out a pregnancy complication and that, yes, it WOULD be a good idea to take a run to the ER. (I, of course, didn't know which ER to go to... she is affiliated with TWO hospitals, each 1/2 hour away, but I have three within 10 minutes of my house that she ISN'T affiliated with. If this was a complication... I needed to be at one of her two hospitals. She sent me to my lesser favorite. Ugh)

As I tried to convince Husband that this was NOT labor, while becoming less and less convinced myself, I took a shower and put on some pants (if anyone was going to be near my Private Bits, I thought they'd appreciate it). We headed to Royal Oak at 6:30. And, of course, had to stop for gas and something to drink. Husband also needed some Hostess mini-Donettes.

As we approached the hospital, the pain was more and more intense and I started fearing that our son was going to find a way to arrive today and I started panicking that the room isn't done! Nothing is put together! I don't even HAVE a bag packed yet! As we made the last turn toward the hospital, the pain was out of control, I wanted to throw up, I wanted to lie down, I want to scream, I wanted to cut a tiny hole in my side and reach in with my fingers to pinch whatever this God awful pain was just to make it stop... this...is...not...good...huff huff huff... and then, as we pulled into the drive toward emergency....... it stopped. Completely. And I breathed. For the first time in three and a half hours, I felt relief. Sweet, sweet, painless movement. And after the initial relief...my first thought was... MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???? A kidney stone? REALLY? Because being eight months pregnant isn't getting uncomfortable enough, let's throw in a FUCKING KIDNEY STONE! And on top of that, I'm about to walk into the ER with "some mild tenderness in my kidney area" - oh yeah, they love that in the ER of the biggest, busiest hospital in Oakland County. "Yes, ma'am, we'll see your mild tenderness right after we remove a bullet lodged in this gentleman's skull and resuscitate this elderly woman who fell and couldn't get up. Oops, Med-Flight just showed up from that REALLY bad 5 car pile up from the freeway... sure we'll get to your mild tenderness soon" FUCK! If the pain had wanted to cooperate AT ALL, it would have had the decency to subside AFTER I checked in, for crying out loud!

On the upside, when you're 33 weeks pregnant, they take you to Labor and Delivery instead of make you wait in the ER. Once they wheeled my ass through the gi-normous hospital and up two floors, I was immediately given the chance to pee into a cup, put into a curtain and hooked up to a monitor for a non-stress test. When the Nurse Midwife (Julie) came in to find out what was going on, I explained to her that, although I was pretty sure it was a kidney stone, could they double check that for me? Great, thanks!! So, no IV, no gown, a little apple juice and 40 minutes on the heart rate monitor later... I got to sleep for a little while waiting for the results of my urinalysis to HOPEFULLY show some blood, just so the morning wasn't a total waste. Great news! There was blood! Indicating, most likely, that it was, in fact, a kidney stone. Whew. By 9:30, we were discharged. So, we went to McDonalds. When we got home, I went pee just before I took a nap and as I was flushing the toilet, I am pretty sure I saw the stone, but didn't have time to reach in for it before it went down. So, I slept. Like a baby. From 11am to 4pm. And it felt good. And now, I have to go to the grocery store.

I am woman, hear my roar, I can carry a baby AND pass a kidney stone at the same time... what did YOU do today???

Ode To Riesling

Oh, my Riesling, you sweet, sweet wine
I've missed you terribly
The way you've always been there for me and my friends
The way you've never failed me
(except that one time I bought that one kind with a screw cap on accident)
Your role in foreplay
Your role in entertaining
Your role in making me funny and outgoing, if only until I fall asleep
Your availability
Your unique bottles
The beauty that is my Vinotemp
Loaded from top to bottom with you
And when used in a blend, you fulfill all of my wine fantasies

Only a few more months my sweet
And we can be alone
I won't share you
I won't waste you
But I will not need the Wine Saver either

Quote(s) Of The Month

A little something for everyone:

a) "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture - it's a really stupid thing to want to do." --Elvis Costello - 1983


b) You might be a DJ if (excerpt):
*You excitedly turn up the radio at the sound of "dead air" on the competitors station
*You have several old air-check cassettes in a cardboard box in your closet that you would never let anyone listen to...but, you'll never throw them out or record over them. NOT EVER!


c) A man once asked "How come we choose from just two people to run for president and 50 for Miss America?" - Author Unknown
My version of that query: Why do we start with less than 20 people running for President, but THOUSANDS running for American Idol? Also, shouldn't our President be the ORIGINAL American idol?


d) "I think I mentioned to Bob [Geldof - Live Aid organizer] I could make love for eight hours. What I didn't say was that this included four hours of begging and then dinner and a movie." -- Sting [on the story that he could last EIGHT HOURS using Tantric Sex techniques (thereby single-handedly increasing sales of all Tantra books worldwide and possibly being at fault for a large number of Emergency Room visits by men whose wives forced them into Tantric positions)...]


Happy Long Weekend!

Unless you live in another country

Today's Random Acts

What a day.

Woke up later than was practical if a shower was to fit into morning before 8:30 work meeting (the kind where they lock the doors to the office and you have to do the "I get here later than you" walk of shame into the meeting where everyone stares at you) - skipped shower, hair in bun.

Nearly nodded off REPEATEDLY at desk... ate to keep myself awake... didn't work (still waiting for someone to tell me how to start my website)

Have been brought to or nearly brought to tears over and over since Friday (please hold any trite comments regarding "prego" emotions - K? Thanks.) so I left work at 12:30 because I wanted to wallow and laze and be alone and work is conducive to NONE of those things.

Got in car, bawled, came home, ate leftover pizza, slept for four hours, woke up when Husband got home from work, chatted, cried, played online puzzles (cuz, evidently, I'm turning into my grandmother, with no other goals in life than to get hammered and finish the fucking Anacrostic! What's next? Wheel of Fortune and bed at 7:30p?? - God rest her soul...), went for Ice Cream with Husband (decided Baskin Robbins is a corporate Nazi and will no longer be spending my money there), came back home, watched The Baby Borrowers (decided a) it's my new favorite show and b) I already want to smother a few of the girls with my leopard print pillow, then slap their unconscious little faces until they wake up and I can shave their eyebrows off with a rusty razor, all in hopes that sense will come to them through torture), then ate dinner (cuz I'm an adult and can eat things in that order, so HA!) while watching Celebrity Circus (and hoping upon hope that there's no one I really like on the show because I do NOT need one more Celebreality show lined up on my Tivo).

So, here I am... a full day behind me... promising I'll only solve ONE MORE puzzle and then head off to bed with hopes that this day was a blip and I don't have to come up with some fake pregnancy disorder to avoid going to work tomorrow.

Tori And I Have More In Common Than Just Great Husbands

A vulnerable moment for me.

I heart Tori Spelling. I hated her when 90210 was on, but have a new found appreciation for her. She's smart and funny and pulled herself up by her (Chanel) boot strings and consciously decided that she would use her previous fame to make a living for herself. I heart strong women.

So, the new season of Tori and Dean has begun and I watched the first episode last night. She is pregnant again and there was a scene that struck close to home for me.

Without getting into the drama that is my relationship with my mother, I will just say that she and I haven't had the best of times. I have spent more than half of my life being the "grown-up" in the world that is she and I, and it has taken therapy, medication and the most wonderfully supportive man I've ever encountered to accept that it is what it is and I can't turn the clock back.

When I found out I was pregnant, I so so hoped for a girl. I considered a lot of things about why this was, all of them true, but none of them the all-encompassing truth.

When we went for the ultrasound that confirmed our baby has a winkie, Husband was elated, but I could barely speak. I made it to the car with as much decorum as possible and then, I began sobbing uncontrollably without end. Through my tears (and hiccups), I tried explaining to him that OF COURSE I was glad he was healthy, OF COURSE this won't make a difference in how I bond with him, OF COURSE I was happy for Husband that he was getting what he so desperately wanted, BUT IT DOESN'T MEAN I'M HAPPY RIGHT THIS MINUTE. After the sobfest ended, we made the calls that we needed to make to let everyone on the planet know that it was a boy. Most of the people we called knew our desires were split and a couple of them asked me if I was alright with it. What do you say? "No, I'm not okay with it... I'm either going to abort and start over or I'm scheduling his reassignment surgery NOW" I admitted to a few that it was "a little difficult at first, but I'm okay with it now". This was, of course, an understatement, but how do you tell the truth without being judged? By the end of a very late dinner, I had come to terms with it, at best. I was not stoked, but had had my moment and accepted it. My new concern was my behavior. Husband is the LEAST judgmental person I know, ESPECIALLY when it comes to my thoughts and irrational behavior, but I was afraid I had crossed a line, because this was HIS baby too and he felt like I had totally stifled his joy and he felt he couldn't comfortably be happy about it in my presence. Then, given my history of varying mental instabilities, I was afraid that I had, for the FIRST TIME EVER, begun to alienate him and make him question ME! After he went to bed, I settled in with Google. I discovered that "Gender Disappointment" was completely normal and that there are people out there FAR crazier than me. There ARE people who will abort... there ARE people who wish so badly for one gender that they put themselves through some of the most ridiculous practices to ensure they get the one their looking for. You want to discuss Gender Disappointment? Try taking your temperature, wrapping strings around your husbands nut sac, making sure he comes at exactly 6:05 Eastern Time during the Half Moon in February with a Shaman present AND THEN finding out you STILL didn't get the one you were looking for. OMG! Now THAT is Gender Disappointment! I felt pretty normal at this point and had a very nice heart to heart with Husband the next day.

But here's what I learned about myself that weekend: My desire to have a girl was nothing more than my desire to have a SUCCESSFUL Mother-Daughter relationship. For years I have been trying to find a replacement Mommy, someone who I could call when I was crying, someone who would come over and help me plant flowers, someone who I would trust to baby-sit my child while I went away for a weekend. And I've failed. All of the pseudo-Mommies I found had one glitch - they were already Mommies and already had that relationship I was so desperate to experience. To have my own daughter would put ME in control of the relationship. I thought I would be more fulfilled as a girl.

Once I realized this, it was much easier to accept that my first born will have a penis and that we will just have to have more children. We were planning on it anyway, so BFD! I would not trade this boy in for the world. I hope for nothing more than his health and his happiness and I hope people like him when he grows up. I love him and can't wait to hold him and watch him sleep.

My insight to myself was just that, insight... Google and Yahoo and Support Boards did NOT tell me this was my problem. It was what I needed to discover in exactly the way I needed to discover it. I've told few people about this because, frankly, I feel a bit embarrassed to have reacted in such a way. Add to that, the depths of some of my closest friends can be measured with a shot glass and I didn't want to hear trite little attempts at comfort that would sound more like a "Chicken Soup for the Mom of a Boy's Soul" book.

Months have passed and I had forgotten about this. I am focusing on my son and preparing for his arrival. I know we will have more children and don't feel but a very vague twinge of envy to those around me with daughters, I know my time will come and it will be special, as will my relationship with my son.

Enter Tori Spelling - On last night's Season Three premiere of the Tori and Dean show, she finds out she's having a girl this time around and begins to cry out of happiness. She later confides to her girlfriend (and all of us who watch the show) that she wanted a daughter, in part, to compensate for her own Mother-Daughter relationship shortcomings. That she wants to prove that it CAN be done right. That she wants that "Best Friend" all Mothers and Daughters are supposed to have in each other. And I cried too. Because I totally get it.

Sex: The Revolution

If you haven't seen this on VH1, find it and watch it.

It's in four one-hour parts and I want to marry it. It takes a journey through time showing the evolution of sex in America. From the ground breaking Kinsey reports about the Human Male and the Human Female bodies to Viagra commercials every half an hour. From a time when gays would be arrested, just for being gay, to the current ability of gays to marry. From the underground sex scene to the in your face sex scene. From the modest Playboy to the version it had to become if it wanted to compete with Hustler and Penthouse to maintain a market share. From women's belief that sex was for men to women who believe in friends with benefits. And the people who were integral in the evolution and the ones who have been criticizing it all along the way. There are interviews with Gloria Steinem and Susan Brownmiller (who BOTH pissed me off) and some great stories and classic footage documenting the Free Love movement of the 60's and 70's that make me wish I had been around to join in the fun. The relationship of Abortion and AIDS with the Sexual Revolution and how they each evolved as a part of the Revolution, BUT impacted its path too.

The most interesting story of STR, to me, is that of the assassination of Harvey Milk. If you have a chance, click here for Harvey's Wiki page. The page doesn't do him any justice, but the STR does very well with it, showing clips and footage. The special does NOT, however, tell you what happened to his murderer, but Wiki does.

Sex: The Revolution is, by far, the BEST thing I've seen on TV in a LONG time. I haven't seen a mini-series since "The 60's" that made me so thankful and grateful to those who came before me. Watching STR made me come to appreciate and admire the women who endured the attempted suppression's of sexual freedom and liberation so that I may screw whomever I want whenever I want with any Birth Control I want and have 6 orgasms without any shame or feelings of guilt for my selfishness (barring the whole "oh, wait, I'm married" thing). That I may have "Letters to Penthouse" sex with my husband and openly chat about it the next day. That I may openly be friends with the gays and stand up in their weddings, too.

I thank all of these pioneers for paving my way and the way of all of the people I know who enjoy the hell out of sex and don't have to hide it like our forepersons had to.

So, find it. Watch it. Enjoy it. Appreciate it.

Award Winning Meat

On a very part time basis, I work on the air at a small radio station. I just aired a spot for a Meat Market that opened like this:

'Nothing says "I LOVE YOU, DAD" like award winning meat'

Ahem.

My head is always in the gutter. Really. and I'm okay with it. One of the times this gutter mentality can be a problem is when the microphone is on while airing the above commercial and I can't hold back my "pffft...with a snort" after hearing it. I think I just alienated half of the soccer moms in my audience. I don't feel bad about it though, I'm still chuckling inside. And hoping I don't have to play the spot again while I'm here. Or ever.

P.S. I called my dad and asked him if he wanted award winning meat for Fathers Day. For the record, he doesn't. And he wants you to know that he's not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Boredom Breeds Ingenuity ... Film at Eleven

I don't think I have ever been as bored at work as I have been the last few months. In case you haven't heard, the Real Estate Market SUCKS. I don't sell Real Estate and I don't try to help you Mortgage your Real Estate. I don't appraise Real Estate and I'm not a Telemarketer. Suffice it to say, even though I don't do any of those four things, my job is ENTIRELY dependent on the Real Estate Market. The Company I work for, over all, hasn't had any threats of shutting down or having mass layoffs, but we are s..l..o..w.. in my department. So slow that my brain cannot comprehend the lack of stimulation and chooses to, sometimes, shut down and fall asleep, at my desk (I usually catch it before it actually HITS the desk). So slow that I've run out of shit to Google (and I do LOVE to Google).

So slow, that I have been giving serious consideration to creating a website that would include an auction area, a message board area, a product review area and an article reference area. All targeted at a specific demographic.

The problem is, I don't have an IT or Marketing background. (I'm halfway to a Communications degree though!! It's only been 7 years since my last class!! I'm sure I can pick it right back up....... I should probably mention it's an Associates Degree..... aw hell....) I also understand legal documents, but can't figure out where to find them. (I really don't want to be sued).

SO, if you or someone you know will let me pay them in Beer and Pizza, and is willing to give me advice and links and research tools and software, please let me know as soon as humanly possible... I'm starting to get funny looks with as many times as I go to the bathroom to splash water on my face (or close my eyes for ten minutes - I'm not saying which I do more frequently).

Complaint department

A couple of random notes:

a) Had a bit of a scare today. I noticed around 8:30p that Lord of the Dance on My Bladder hadn't done a jig in a few hours. I was trying to remember and determined that he hadn't made a move since 2p, just prior to a little marital frolicking. This freaked me out a bit. I was trying to surmise just how rambunctious we may have been and ponder whether we crushed him and then started to panic a little. So, as any good mother would do... I tried to make him as uncomfortable as possible: I filled up my bladder until I thought I was going to burst, I pulled the band of my pants around where I thought he'd be and sat in a position that would force him to move if he wanted to continue to thrive. It worked!! And now he hasn't stopped. It's been three hours. Some sense of humor he has. I'm so proud...

b) I'm a chunky girl. I own it. I am also cheap. I own that, too. Why, oh why, must it be so difficult to buy a pair of fucking maternity pants? Not hard, per se.. but expensive... and inconvenient. I don't want to go all the way to Motherhood Maternity and spend $45 everytime I decide I need something IMMEDIATELY. I went to Target to check out the Liz Lange selection. I had assumed her stuff ran small, just because she's such a bitch. I was right. I ended up having to buy a pair of regular pants two sizes too big, just so I would have something to wear tonight that was DIFFERENT from the ONE outfit I have been sporting for the past three weekends. Let me tell you... My thigh and ass size haven't changed, so a pair of pants that are two sizes bigger all the way around (except my belly, of course, is, most definitely, the least attractive thing I have had to do in the last six months. And I've had to do some pretty unattractive things. I sense strongly worded emails to certain retail chains in my future.

Another Fucking Dog

No lie. Fourth dog. No tags. Do I smell like rawhide?

As Husband and I were enjoying a local band (cough, cough - insert shameless plug here) on the outdoor patio of a not-even-close-to-local bar/restaurant, I was spontaneously greeted by a lovely Black Lab, who had been walking along the shoreline of the lake below the outdoor patio. We weren't on the shoreline, we were up a flight of stairs. Poor puppy was soaking wet from the rain and seemed to be hungry. Feeling pity for any creature that doesn't have the ability to run through a drive thru for their supper, I promptly stole some bread from my friends leftovers container and gave it to him. Someone pointed out he was barely hungry (he had a huge ass), but I continued to give all of my friends bread to him. I made a friend for life in that dog within moments (and lost the friend whose bread I stole). He laid down at my feet until a waiter came by and dragged him out to find out who he belonged to (no one in the place claimed him by the time we left).

I don't know where he came from and I don't know what happened to him, but for the love of fucking Pete people!!! TAGS!!! Are they so hard??? PetSmart has a machine where you can make one for, like, 4 bucks, and, barring that, take a Sharpie, write your phone number on a fucking piece of paper and paper clip it to your dog's collar!!!

Seriously.

Is it the Orgasm or the Mountain Dew?

There are a couple of things I have learned in the last 6 months. Okay, there's a shit ton of stuff I have learned, but among them are that:
1) Mountain Dew only has 55mg of caffeine per 12oz AND
2) Pregnant Orgasms are even better than Married Orgasms (which were previously above Engaged Orgasms, Been Together For 7 Years Orgasms and We're Young and Very Into Each Other Four Times A Day Orgasms - in that order)

There is not much "they" want you to consume during pregnancy aside from water and fruits and vegetables. Much of it is based in science, some based in happenstance and coincidence. For example, during a drug trial, if Subject A is taking the real medication and happens to develop a headache, perhaps just due to being hungry, "Headache" must be listed as a possible side effect of the medication. "Experts" have agreed that up to 150mg of caffeine seems to be safe for baby and it doesn't surprise me that they disagree beyond that. Finding out that Mountain Dew ONLY has 55mg per 12oz was the best news ever (that day). So, once a week, usually Thursdays, Husband goes and gets me and Lord of the Dance on My Bladder some good ole fashioned Taco Bell. We don't plan it, it just happens that by Thursday neither one of us have any desire to eat at home and, either we both really like the way our sphincters loosen up on Fridays or Taco Bell puts crack in their "seasoned meat". Either way, on this glorious day of the week, I consume 32oz of my favorite radioactive soda (because nothing goes with Taco Bell like Mountain Dew, except a drunken evening with good friends and great music). The thing I have learned about Mountain Dew is that I may talk faster, type faster and generally move faster, but my brain actually works better too, I swear!

Being pregnant has taught me that my ability to retrieve certain vocabulary words is completely out of my control. I find myself needing to ask people to help me find the word(s) I'm looking for. I find myself stopping in the middle of a sentence because something shiny caught my eye and I can no longer speak and look at the same time. I find myself actually having to close my eyes many times to articulately convey my sentence, just so I don't get distracted. This is new to me. I have always prided myself in being "one of the smartest people I know" and frequently "the smartest person in the room" (one might think this has to do with the company I keep, but frankly, I'm just that damn good... and if I'm not, I say it with enough confidence to convince people it's fact) So, all of these years I've heard lame-ass excuses from people about "Pregnancy Brain" and disregarded it as a cover-up for their ineptitude. But, I finally have to concede ... sigh... it's real. And it's painful. And it's embarrassing. But I own it. And my good friend Terri has been able to ease my troubled mind with this phenomenon by a) always lending a helping vocabulary word when it escapes me and b) soothing my fear that this is a permanent disability with her quick wit and intelligent conversation, even after she's had two babies and admits that she, too, was subjected to the misery of "Pregnancy Brain" - TWICE

So, where does the Orgasm come in to play?

The last few months, I can pretty much stay on top of my game at work ... quick, accurate, intelligent responses to any problem posed to me (and there are A LOT, everyday) - but this tends to wipe me out so that by the time I get home from my job, I find myself in a semi-vegetative state, watching mindless programming while uttering Beavis and Butthead-like "he-he"'s at potty humor. BUT, throw in a Pregnant Orgasm and I manage to snap out of it, usually long enough to have an actual conversation for at least 15 minutes. Couple it with 32oz of Mountain Dew and it's not just for a moment, but for HOURS! Here it is, 1:15a Eastern and I have regained enough brain activity to not only form a complete sentence, but also engage in this witty banter with my friend:

Ponder this text exchange - it's a little game we like to play, sometimes via email, sometimes in person, but always the same topic - piss poor grammar and pronunciation:

Me: Irregardless
Terri: Anyways
Me: Mkay
Terri: Supposably
Me: Pacifically
Terri: Cousint
Me: Melk
Terri: Should of
Me: Whole nother
Terri: (No fair, you have my Mortal Syntax ) book. Pellow!
Me: It don't mean I used it. I seen it on my shelf. I gots to try to get to bed earlier, but probally I'll still be up late.
Terri: Ohh you nasty girl!
Me: Yeah I thought I would give the equivalent of the 4th of July Grand Finale on that one. I can almost hear your head explode all the way over here.
Terri: Nice. See you tomorrow.

I am confident that, someday, I will get my "words" back, but, until then, I guess I will have to suffer the cocktail of Orgasms and Mountain Dew when necessary. This will only be awkward if I ever have to take my medicine at work.

The serotonin levels in my brain are out of fucking control right now, so this post may read more like an A.D.H.D. Kid's How I Spent My Summer Vacation essay. Sorry! It's a side effect of the medication... :)

Quote of the Month

"I like to engage in astral perversion, and my fondness is to be sucked off by ring-tailed fruit bats, while engaging in oral-erotic relationships with homosexual aardvarks and bathtubs full of lukewarm jello and late-night motel plate jobs, slurp circles and jello orgies."

- Ed Sanders (American poet, singer, social activist, environmentalist, author and publisher. He has been called a bridge between the Beat and Hippie generations- also a founding member of The Fugs: A satirical and self-satirizing rock band with a political slant, they have performed at various war protests — against the Vietnam War and since the 1980s at events around other US-involved wars. The band's often frank and almost always humorous lyrics about sex, drugs, and politics have caused a sometimes hostile reaction in some quarters.)

Thank you VH-1 and Wiki!!

Road Trip Quandary

I have a dilemma. It involves my favorite Band, my favorite Husband, my favorite Friend, my favorite Unborn Son and a trip to one of my favorite States. It goes like this:

Last year I had the Orgasmic experience of seeing my favorite Band at a Minor League Ballpark about two and a half hours from where I live. Because of the cost of the tickets and the cost of the room we had for the night, Husband and I called it "His Birthday Present". Never mind it's MY favorite band and never mind that it just happened to coincide with his birthday weekend, he was gracious enough to accept it as his gift... The Orgasmic part was "general-admission-standing-near-the-stage-once-I-navigated-my-bountiful-bottom-through-the-crowd-of-barely-legal-hotties". It was the best time ever. We both enjoyed the concert so much (he really is a fan in his own right). It was the closest I've ever been and I think Ed may have even noticed when I mouthed "You Complete Me" (complete with air drawn heart). We had a terrific time and vowed if they ever played that venue again, we would go. Well, I got an e-mail from the fan club (yeah, I still pay my dues, what's it to you?) telling me tickets were available for advance purchase this coming weekend to see them in a smaller-than-your-average-outdoor-theater-but-not-quite-as-small-as-last-years venue on July 24 about an hour from my house. When I jumped over to their site to see if they were playing at the Ballpark again, I discovered they are not, but they are scheduled for a FREE show in Hammond, Indiana on July 18. Hmmmm, can I fit them both in?? Should I consider just the FREE show since, um, my Mortgage payment is going up $200 that same week????? And then, it all came dawning on me: The Baby Shower ("TBS") is July 20. Favorite Friend Kateaken is coming in for it on July 16-July 23. Most of July 19 would be spent preparing for it. Do I wait until after TBS and go on the 24th? Or, do I propose a Road Trip? The last time Kateaken and I took a Road Trip of any distance beyond Pine Knob was to Caseville...wowzer, how freaking long ago was that???? Herein lies my quandary:
1) Husband must come too;
2) Kateaken may be bringing Aken-fam;
3) The return leg of Road Trip would have to happen early Saturday morning so as not to piss off CJX, who will, no doubt, be in no mood to hear of our Fantastic Voyage as she will be in "Eleventh Hour Planning Mode" (which equated to Bride-fucking-zilla the day before her own wedding -- EEK!!);
4) We'd still have to get a room in Hammond, add to that the cost of gas, and the Road Trip will undoubtedly cost more than the two tickets to the show that's close enough to get me, Husband and Lord of the Dance on My Bladder into our own bed for the night;
5) Kateaken and I haven't been to a concert together since that GOD-AWFUL Holiday Hoot-Nanny in 1998 (we were so far from the stage, we had a convo at "inside voice decibel level" and then left... we didn't even stay for Barenaked Ladies - I think we ended up at Denny's instead);
6) I want to pack as much BFF time in as possible while she's here and this would be an awesome trip.
7) Given the date of the shows, I might, once again, have to convince Husband this is what he wants for his birthday...

And, for the record, no, I don't have any fears of taking a Road Trip pregnant. Music has always been in the top five "Things I Deem Important In My Life" and I wish to impart this to my son. He's currently getting a lesson on the Beatles Blue Album and, frequently, I take him to bars to hear my Dad's band - Fuck classical music, the Beatles are more important to modern society than Beethoven. Next, I'm going to teach him to 'Just Say No' while we listen to The Doors Greatest Hits.

Sigh. I do believe it's likely that my "Responsible Mortgage Paying Adult Self" will overrule my "But I Wanna " self. Pfft...Adulthood...WTF?

Intermission on M-153

Sometimes I leave my office building around lunchtime just to get away (sometimes it's just so I can do things in my car that no one will judge me for). As I was travelling down the five lane road, I ran a yellow light, only to have to slam on my brakes on the other side of the intersection because there was a confused looking German Shepherd in front of me (I'll call him Volkswagen). Poor skittish VW started BACK across the road. I had my window down and tried to convince him in a sweet voice that he should follow my car and try not to get hurt doing so... I considered seeing how far down the road I could get him to follow me, but thought it unsafe for VW, so I immediately turned right into the parking lot of a party store. VW FOLLOWED ME! I opened my door and then had a panicking thought: Oh My God, What If This Dog Wants To Eat My Face For Lunch???? So I mustered up my most trusting, come to me and I'll pet you, you sweet little stupid dog that just came close to being roadkill voice, while keeping my back against my car and one hand on the door in the event that I had to make a quick get away before Cujo came lurching. I think I was sending mixed signals. VW came toward me (no rabid foam near mouth, no baring of teeth) and then jerked away as if I were only half in it. So, I stooped down, pretty confident at this point that he would not charge at me and he came over, I got a hold of his collar and oh, great, no tag. Four or five different people came up to check on him, but none to claim him. So, I'm sitting there with my hand on his collar, lest VW get away, and I hear shouting from the Walgreens across the road. I can't hear shit... there are FIVE LANES OF TRAFFIC WHIZZING BY! One kind girl, who must have taken a course in understanding chaotic shouting across long distances and through barriers of Detroit and Japanese steel, says that there is another dog at Walgreens, but that none of the chaotic screamers appear to belong to him. I think "The Others" thought he was my dog and wanted me to come get the other one. I was NOT crossing that crazy ass road!! Apparently, both dogs had strutted in to Walgreens (I think they read the same sale paper I did, Walgreens has EXCELLENT coupons) and they managed to hold on to one of them. During all of this, I have decided the best thing to do is to call the police department to come get these dogs, but one of the people on my side of the road (who was on a bike) said he would go over to "The Others" and make sure VW didn't belong to any of them and that the other dog didn't have a tag. It took him 7 minutes to cross the road... during which time VW exhibited an incredibly inappropriate response to all of the attention. Oh, how there is nothing I love seeing more than the aroused pink tip of an animal's package. And JUST as I was starting to feel like I should give VW a blanket to cover himself with, a Silver Hummer pulled up and out jumped a barefoot man who CLEARLY was not planning on leaving the house today. He looked over at VW and said "DUKE!!" and Duke, briefly known as VW, ran into the arms of his owner. It was almost as sweet as an Iams commercial, minus the sad "Someday your dog is going to die" undertones. We informed Mr. Hummer that his other beloved pet was across the street hunting for deals on potato chips and batteries and off they went, Duke and the Barefoot Man in the Hummer...

Sidebar:
1) Please do not lay on your horn in an attempt to clear an animal from the road. It does not work with ducks, nor deer, nor dogs. Sorry for your inconvenience.
2) This is the third lost dog I've found... help me out... if you want your pet back, give me an address or a phone number to work with.
3) It dawned on me after the fact that no one gives this much attention to a cat crossing a busy road. Ha.

Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis? (or Fired Up, Schmired Up)

In an effort to stray away from others perception that I get fired up too easily over unimportant shit, I am going to name a few things from the last couple of days that are only mildly disruptive to the traffic flow in my head. Ahem:

1) The new Allstate Insurance commercial referring to retirement as "the third half of your life" - I'm not a mathematician, but relatively certain that one can only have two halves. If I am incorrect, I need to send a strongly worded email to the administration at RCHS.

2) People who Google something and then recite it back to you, nearly verbatim, within five minutes, pretending they have known this all their lives. If I would have known that I have a living, breathing search engine in my midst, I wouldn't bother to pay for Internet service.

3) The use of the word "irregardless" in a professional meeting, TWICE, even after you were called out on your usage the first time.

4) Being so focused on one's task that one forgets where one is and one belches loudly. One was hoping for some cheering. One received a look of abhorrence and quickly had to apologize to the abhorred, even though she and the abhorred have engaged in conversations about other co-workers breasts AND dildos. Don't those topics pretty much leave everything else in limits? Except poo convos. Poo convos are only acceptable after permission has specifically been granted and agreed upon by both parties.

5) Persons who are inclined to believe everything that lands in their INBOX. Listen -I know it's difficult to accept that some people truly have nothing better to do all day than fabricate stories and email them around the world, but they do. It just is. I could sit here and rant about the stupidity of those people and get all worked up over something I can't control.... or I could simply thank Barbara Mikkelson and her devotion to setting the world straight, always. Snopes.com: Google It, Click On It, Use It, Love It... and for crying out loud, why do people ask me to Snopes things for them??? If you know what it's called, then you know the freaking website... or at least the freaking key word. Sigh. Whatever.

6) Blogger.com: Thank you, Dearest Orange B, for the ability to entertain myself and feed my self-indulgent nature... however, I do have one tiny request... please oh please stop timing out and creating errors, especially when I am at, what I perceive to be, my funniest. I do not like to repeat myself and so, will not bother retyping. The humor is then lost forever...

7) Tripping in my own shoes THREE times in one day.

8) Lord of the Dance on my bladder, incessantly.




See? No f-bombs! I'm not worked up at all :)

Eating better than many

Let me dwell for a moment on a story from Alabama. One where the writer of the news story seems to be trying to evoke an emotion of pity from me toward inmates who are forced to eat for $1.75 a day. Perhaps the author wishes for me to be disgusted that Sheriff's in certain Alabama counties are turning profit by taking shortcuts to feed the inmates. It goes a little something like this:

-Back in the day of chain gangs, Alabama passed a law that gave sheriffs $1.75 a day to feed each prisoner in their jails, and the sheriffs got to pocket anything that was left over. More than 80 years later, most Alabama counties still operate under this system, with the same $1.75-a-day allowance, and some sheriffs are actually making money on top of their salaries.

"It's a bad system, and it ought not be that way," said Buddy Sharpless, executive director of the Association of County Commissions of Alabama.

A prisoner advocate said he constantly hears complaints about jail food.

By comparison, the government pays schools $2.47 for serving a single free meal under the National School Lunch Program for low-income students.-

Let me ponder this:
a) I have had occasion to eat for an entire day on less. Heard of Ramen? Ten cents a meal (eight at Wal-Mart)
b) Complaining about jail food? I am personally familiar with a number of people who not only have to feed their entire FAMILY on less, but sacrifice their own meals to do so. I have recently been to the home of a family member who will feed anyone who happens to be in her home at the time she makes dinner, regardless of the fact that she has bounced her rent check twice in the last two months and has to hide her car most days from Chrysler Financial. No one complains about the food at her house.
c) Fuck you, you fucking sociopath inmate bitch! You have it better than the tens of thousands who have lost their jobs recently because the economy took a dump in the tuba of America. Explain to me what sacrifices you have had to make? Oh, that's right... the prison system forced you to go work in the kitchen instead of paying for someone to come in, so they could cut some corners so you could still get your three hots and a cot.

Here are my favorite parts of the story

-[One sheriff is always on the] lookout for good deals on food, pays two cooks and supplements their work with trusty labor, and wastes nothing, turning today's leftovers tomorrow's soup. -

I think I've had to use leftovers once or twice. What's wrong #2779856? Are you opposed to day old bread? Sorry about that, but the local Panera shut down due to lack of business and your Jewish Rye was made yesterday at a bakery in another county who's owner is going without a paycheck just to keep his business afloat

-The menu on a recent day in the Limestone County Jail was two pancakes and syrup, sausage and milk for breakfast; peanut butter sandwiches, chips and Kool-Aid for lunch; and white beans, turnip greens, fried squash, cornbread and sweet tea for dinner.-

HOLY SHIT! Seriously, go back to the comment about Ramen... sometimes I add butter and garlic just to change it up a bit. I get bored bouncing between Beef and Chicken and I'm quite hesitant to even try the Shrimp flavor.

-Inmate William Howell said state prisons offer more food than [some county jails]. But he said the food in state prison isn't nearly as good.

"It's not like they go down to the bread store and catch it coming out of the oven, but it's good," Howell said. "We've got it good here."-

GOOD FOR YOU BILL! Finally, some fucking humility.

To the rest of you - Dude, YOU'RE IN PRISON! You lost the right to bitch about food the moment the judge handed down your sentence, so please, do all of us struggling, hard-working, law-abiding citizens a favor and go back to your day of nothingness and contemplate why you're fucking incarcerated to begin with. After that, think of ways to keep yourself from getting shived in the shower so that when you make it out on the other side, you can be like the rest of us and have a voice. I earned my right by ignoring the urge to rob a bank to pay my Mortgage and refusing to let the desire to stab someones eyes out with a pencil come to fruition, you couldn't do the same, so go eat your fucking day old bread... and consider that mine is three days old and I'm giving half of it to the Soup Kitchen!

Kali and Kwame

I am all for California's Supreme Court ruling today. I think it's terrific that the highest court in that state chooses to support Gay Marriage. It makes me wish I was gay. And living in California. I don't like avocado though...

On another newsworthy note, Kwame has decided to implement a privacy policy regarding text messages sent or received on City-owned devices. Oh thank Jesus!! I was beginning to think that big brother had taken away my constitutional right to fire someone and then lie about it! I almost believed there was no more room for having a sexual affair while in office! I nearly hyperventilated at the remote possibility that I would have to resort back to ACTUAL phone sex and Googling porn for my jollies! Whew, that was a close one. I'm wondering how many other "policies" he'll put into place to cover his own ass in the future... so many to choose from. You see, this is probably the first instance of the Kraziness that's Kwame's administration to make national news. What you may not realize is that he has been found to have been abusing his power all along: His wife's primary source of transportation was a vehicle that the City was paying the lease on; His "bodyguards" are all guys he grew up with; He has taken numerous vacations on the City's dime; He awarded millions of dollars in City contracts to one single person without any apparent regard for the bidding process; He physically assaults one particular reporter whenever he can and oh, yes, the grand finale was the Sext Scandal... but the truth is, he isn't in trouble for kinky T9, he's in trouble for spending millions of City dollars to settle a wrongful termination suit that was, as proved by his texts, a wrongful termination. And then he essentially lied to City Council about it. So, for all of you who want the media to "Leave Kwame ALONE" and think he's allowed to have sex with whomever, whenever by any electronic means he wishes, please take a few moments out of your day to Google the news stories that DIDN'T make national headlines. And for the people of the City of Detroit who still think he's the best Mayor ever, I can only presume he's texting you too.

Under Construction

Traffic is at a standstill until the moron in the Honda moves her disabled vehicle from the middle lane. Gawker delay... pfft.