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.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, June 16, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
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.
'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.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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).
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).
Saturday, June 7, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
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... :)
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... :)
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