Book Review-(Not That You Asked)

In keeping up my New Year's Resolutions, I am following the example of Beth's blog. She actually has a whole book review section. I don't think I'm going to go that far. But if you like my review enough let me know and i'll do more of these!

So this review is about this HILARIOUS book I was given by Matt, my co-worker, for Christmas. It's by guy named Steve Almond and is called (Not that You Asked): Rants, Exploits, and Obsessions. To answer your question, YES, half of the title is in parenthesis. But ALL of the book is freaking hilarious. Except for the Kurt Vonnegut part. But I'm getting too ahead of myself. Let me back up.

The book is just kind of a nice collection of short experiences, memoirs, essays and theories on life, love, kids and society in general. The book starts out with a series of letters to Oprah in the style of "Letters from a Nut." (If you don't know what I'm talking about, go to Borders or Barnes & Noble one of these days and just pick it up. All you need is about 2 minutes to read one of these letters to understand)

Well, in this book, the first letter is a pre-emptive rejection of Oprah. Yes, he rejects HER and says that he KNOWS she's thinking of choosing him to be her book of the month, but that he wants no part of it because Oprah is, as he puts it, "The Wal-Mart of hope."

The next letter is him realizing the mistake he's made, and he tries to make it up to her. He writes letter after letter becoming more and more desperate to recover from what he perceives as her coldness towards him because of his first letter. He doing everything possible to win her back doing crazy things like accusing Steadman (her boyfriend of too many years to count) of being "Snidely Whiplash-esque" and talking about how she got screwed out of the Oscar for the movie "The Color Purple".

The final letter says it's being accompanied with his 4 month old daughter, who he knows Oprah will raise with the same care she puts into her show. He even says that he's including along some breast milk because his daughter doesn't eat solid foods yet, and to please refrigerate it quickly.

After I read the first few pages of this book, I was SOOO excited to read the rest! This was going to be HILARIOUS!! Slams on Condoleezza Rice, blatant offending and then butt-kissing of Oprah? What could be better? But then the Vonnegut part begins.

I'm sorry, but I don't know who Kurt Vonnegut is. I've heard about his book "Slaughterhouse Five" but I've never read it. And after reading the first half of this little "Crushing on Vonnegut" diatribe, I didn't think I ever wanted to. Steve Almond talks about how he schemes and connives and finally scores a ticket to an author's forum with Vonnegut and other current authors. He talks about how the other authors are only interested in pimping their books, how they are too "naive" and "optimistic" about life, and how Vonnegut is the ONLY one that REALLY gets how life really is.

Honestly, it just seemed that Vonnegut was an old, crotchety, negative atheist. He readily admits that he is an atheist, and that the world is going to disintegrate and turn into dust in 12 years because we don't take care of it, and we don't take care of each other. Ok, maybe not as soon as 12 years, but he says it's DEFINITELY going that way, what with all these people's belief in GOD and what not. I didn't want to read about him and his negative theories on life anymore, and it was like this Vonnegut part was never going to end. So I stopped reading it back in January.

Anyway, It took me so long to finally pick up the book again and trudge through the rest of the Vonnegut pages. But I'm SOOOO glad I did. The rest of the book is back to being laugh out loud funny. He talks a lot about going through puberty and about the school and family humiliation that always seems to follow these horrible times. He talks about how he HATES the Red Sox based on the fact that they cost his beloved Oakland A's the championship back in the early 70's. He continues to hate them even though he's lived in Boston for years and even teaches at Boston College. He actually calls himself the "Red Sox Anti-Christ."

There is a huge part about how he almost became a VH1 reality show whore and an even BIGGER part about how he resigned from Boston College because they invited Condoleezza Rice to speak at the commencement ceremony. He actually was invited to the Hannity & Colmes show and he TOTALLY humiliated them by bringing up the Bill O'Reilly sexual harassment situation. As I've previously brought up, I detest Hannity and O'Reilly. I don't think I would consider myself a Democrat, but I HATE that if you call yourself a "Republican" you are immediately thought to align yourselves with scum like O'Reilly. So I don't know what I am. But I know who I don't like.

Anyway, the last part of this book is about the birth of his daughter and the many ways he could've killed her if someone wasn't there to supervise him. It makes me think that I am NOT READY to be a parent AT ALL. But his honest, true love for his daughter brought tears to my eyes in it's sincerity and truthfulness. I love my little gusano so much, but I know I will love it even more when I see it's little shining face. How can I possibly prepare for that? That's what the last chapter of the book tells me.

Anyway, most of my blog readers will like to know that while this book is wonderfully touching and true, it is NOT rated PG. Well, I would say that MOST of it is PG, but it has some DEFINITE rated "R" moments. Sadly, these moments were usually the ones that made me laugh out loud in quiet public places. I just wanted everyone to know that before they ran out and got the book.

You will LOVE this book, but don't say I didn't warn you. And what ever you do, DON'T be drinking anything when you read the story about when he was caught shoplifting or when he decides to have his girlfriend wax his chest. And especially when you read the last line of the book. Even to the end, hilarious.

Enjoy!

How bad it is

I forgot to post this funny story when I was talking about being sick. Last night I wanted to make sure I slept better than the night before. So I bought some VapoRub to spread all over my body at night. I've never bought VapoRub before, but from what I remember, it's pretty darn strong in the smell department. I mean, that's the point right? It's strong enough so that when you rub it on your neck, it still will reach your nose and your throat.

I stick my nose RIGHT DOWN into the jar and I get NOTHING. I can't smell anything. I rub it all over my neck and I can't smell it. I'm thinking somehow that I got the "non-smelly" kind. So then I proceed to put it all over my chest too. I'm like in a vacuum, and my body is telling me that there is nothing there.

But I walk over to my mom, and I'm like 5 feet away from her, and she's like "oh, you smell." So I guess it IS working! My sense of smell has always been so strong and I just feel hobbled without it. The other thing is that my nose is basically clear. I can breathe through it right now, it's not completely stuffed up. So I expect to be able to smell things because air is still moving through it. But it's not happening so much.

So here's to applying VapoRub nightly! Happy Rubbing!

Sick, Sick, SICKENING, Sick

Sunday night I started to get a sore throat. I was REALLY concerned that it was strep. That's because I spent about 3 hours in Reagan's house on Friday and her whole family had strep. Now, I don't think that Reagan is a dirty person, by any means. But all I had to do was touch ONE thing that hadn't been sanitized, and that would be the end of it.

However after I talked to her and compared symptoms, I decided it wasn't strep. And this was confirmed when the sore throat quickly gave way to congestion, a horrible PAINFUL cough with phlegm coming up, fever, chills, wheezing and my eyes being swollen with pain and pressure. I finally went to the doctor yesterday and they gave me an antibiotic prescription. I need to go pick it up at the pharmacy, but that involves like taking a shower, and maybe putting on clean underwear. And everyone KNOWS how overrated clean underwear is.

Also, because Jean is on a cruise this week, I haven't had the option of staying home those first few days I was getting sick. I've needed to be at work so I can train the new girls. But that will never help me get better, and so I decided to do something drastic today: I told a lie. I told them that my doctor said it was pneumonia and that I needed to do a 48 hour round of antibiotics before I come back to work. How bad is that of me? On a lie scale from 1 to 10, you know with the lowest being like when you tell a friend that her giant swollen ankles DON'T look like sausages about to pop out of their casings. That would be a 1. And a 10 is Jean and everything about her. So where does this little antibiotic lie fall on that scale?

So this is my current regimen: Halls, cough syrup (I checked with my OB to make sure it was ok to take) Vapo-rub, water and more Halls. I try not to do anything that will make me breathe too hard, because if I do that, my throat dries out and then I start coughing, and let me tell you, you do NOT want me to start coughing. I get going to hard that I puke, and then the things that come up are atrocious in color and consistency. Oh, it's not pretty.

I think that the WORST thing (well my worst thing anyway) is that my sense of smell is gone. That means that food is no longer appetizing because I can't taste it. So yesterday after Lisa and I went to the gym, I stopped at the Wal-Mart and got a GIANT King Sized Snickers Ice Cream Bar. (That was because Reagan always talked about how she ate them when she was pregnant, and I've been craving one for a few weeks now.)

I wasn't actually hungry, like I didn't really want to eat it, but my stomach was churning and telling me that I needed to eat something. So I inhaled the snickers, and then 2 packages of fruit snacks. But I really didn't want them. I also got a bunch of other junk food too, but I think it'll just sit in my car until I can smell it again and hence enjoy it. And that food thing is happening again right now. My stomach is telling me that it's empty, but I don't actually FEEL hungry. Maybe some toast. With jam. Raspberry

So why did Lisa and I go to the gym? Especially because I'm sick? Well, we went and just sat in the wet sauna. It was horrible at first because the walk to the gym from the car tore up my throat so badly with the freezing air, but the moment I got into that wet sauna, it was like a different person sitting there. My voice changed, my nose cleared, and it was HEAVENLY. I need to go do that every day. It's the only way to make myself feel better these days.

So, that is my goal for today: recover, go to the wet sauna, and try not to talk or even breathe too much. No one ever got anywhere by breathing.

Residual effects from the Temple

Do you notice how there are never any toilet seat protectors in the bathrooms of the temple? Apparently, not only can the Holy Ghost purify your heart, but it does a pretty good job on toilet seats too. I mean, the H.G. has to be more powerful than lye, what with all the old lady butts sitting on them. Just an observation.

For another great toilet story, click here. (This website is usually pretty PG-13, but this post is VERY much rated G.)

Happy Toliet times!!

What to post, What to post . . .

I'm in a posting rut. I don't know what to post. I think that I've exhausted the subject of my family, my pregnancy, hiding my pregnancy from my family, job, my horrible boss, my horrible co-workers and hiding my pregnancy from my my horrible job, boss and co-workers. And my dog. You have all heard plenty about my dog

Also, I start to feel that I'm whining about things. I do not want to be a whiner. I want to be refreshingly funny, whimsical and poignant. That's hard to do when you have no interesting topics to discuss.

What should I do? Should I tell you about what happened when I went to the bathroom in a hospital last night? Well, there was a drain in the floor in the middle of the room and every time I flushed the toilet (Yes, this was a MULTIPLE flush visit) I could see water swirl around the drain. That made me nervous. Was the water coming directly from my toilet and passing through the drain in the middle of the room before it went down to the place toilet water goes, but we don't talk about? I looked for particles in the swishing water, but I never saw any. It didn't do anything to calm my toilet fears.

Why would water be swishing around that drain for any reason? I mean, shouldn't that drain be an "exit only" situation? Why should I be seeing water coming up at all? Isn't it just there in case the toilet or sink floods? It's very upsetting when you flush the toilet and see water moving around your feet. I don't suggest you try it.

I don't think my blog readers would appreciate toilet talk. So I DEFINITELY won't be blogging about that. So should I blog again about how my feet look like little pork sausages? Should I maybe take a picture of my foot and post it here and show everyone how I no longer have any muscle or tendon definition in my foot? Should I talk about how when I wear my shoes my flesh balloons over the top of my foot before it is pushed into the front?

Should I point out that you should be sure to look at the nice little fat crinkle/crease at my ankle? And i'll for sure remind you to notice how the water retention causes BOTH sides of my ankle to be puffy, creased, and all together revolting.

I don't think that you want to be reminded again about how my ankles jiggle when I walk, how I can't bend my foot certain ways because the flesh backs up over itself and makes a nice little wall of water retention goodness. I think I've exhausted the topic of my fat feet, so I'll just have to find something else to talk about.

What about my job? I mean, I can only guess that of my nearly 30 posts, more than half of them talk about my job, my boss and the crap I have to put up with there. Do you really want to hear about that again? Do you really want to hear about how I get yelled at every day? About how I'm the only person doing everything in my office, and rather than my boss and co-workers being APPRECIATIVE towards me, the only one who knows how to do everything and run all the systems of the office, they instead are short tempered and quick to yell at me for not getting things done fast enough? Do you want to hear about that?

Heather and Alyssa will know that it's difficult to train someone, especially when you are all alone. It's better when an assistant is going to be leaving and we hire a new assistant and the one leaving can focus 100% on just training. When you are trying to train, and the phone keeps ringing, or the agents keep dropping things on your desk, or Jean keeps leaving voice mails telling you that she needs you to pick up her prescriptions at Costco, that's when things get bad. Should I talk about that? You probably don't want to hear about that, right? I didn't think so.

I'm officially stuck. Please let me know what the next topic of my post should be. Otherwise I might be forced to talk about one of the three topics above. And we know how bad THAT would be.

For the Slopes?

We have this great story in my family that involves my mom, a fanny pack and a phrase that is now legendary. One day, as we were cleaning out our attic, we found a box of old ski clothes and accessories. We looked through it and found the gloves that were mis-matched, things with holes and otherwise un-needed apparel. And then we came to the fanny pack.

Now I would like everyone to take a moment and stop and think about the last time you saw a fanny pack on a person. Strike that. When was the last time you saw a fanny pack on a person and it made them look cool? Or at the least it DIDN'T make them look like a total tool? Are you thinking 1982 like I am? Well, now imagine that the fanny pack that my mom has pulled out of this box is turquoise blue/green and has a black snap buckle. Did I mention the multiple zippers. Yeah, it also has multiple zippers.

My sisters, and brothers and I all say unanimously that it can be given away to charity. We actually think that it should just be thrown away immediately because there is no way we would want to inflict that turquoise monstrosity on anyone. However, my mom says, "Really?" and then proceeds to hold it up to her waist and turn her body to the side like she's modeling the latest swimsuit from France. She then says "Really? Get rid of it? But maybe we could use it. You know. . .for the Slopes?"

We of COURSE burst out laughing and immediately start mocking her for this. We continued to mock her all the rest of the day, and every chance we've gotten since. Whenever ANYONE talks about skiing, or snowboarding or ANYTHING, one of my siblings will INEVITABLY say, "For the slopes?" and we will all howl with laughter. My mom included, because she's the first to admit that she's crazy. Plus the fact that she actually does CALL them slopes. So there is plenty of mocking opportunity still to this day. (You want me to do an impression of this, I will be happy to do it. It's one of my fave impressions of my mom to do).

So my mom wanted to go to the slopes today. She invited me, Marcelo, Nate and Denisse to go with her. Marcelo decided that he would stay home and finish painting our bedroom. (I actually think that he was afraid to go because he was afraid of embarrassing himself, but he would never admit that.) And we all know that I am 6 months pregnant, so there would be very little skiing being done on my part.

We pack some food "for the slopes" (see, it's a VERY universal phrase!) because NO ONE wants to spend that kind of money for food. Buying food at the slopes is like buying food at the airport or at a movie theater. You KNOW you need it, but do you really want to spend $7 for a tub of popcorn or Frito pie? (Yes, Frito pie was there, and YES, they were charging $7 for it) So you inevitably sneak in food.

On a side note, there was a TIP jar at the little cafe/lodge there at the slopes. I thought that was the most IDIOTIC thing I had ever seen. I didn't look inside the jar, but I'm sure that there was nothing in it. I mean, who wants to leave $1 or $2 when they've just spent $34 on 2 eight inch pizzas and a water. (That was actually the tab of the woman right in front of me) It scared the crap out of me that I wouldn't have enough money for my little raspberry square and my hot chocolate. Luckily, (and this is a very SAD "luckily") my bill only came to $8. I considered myself blessed.

We gather our goods and talk to Nate and decide to meet at BYU at 10:30 to rent the skis, etc. Well, we get there at 10:30 and Nate is nowhere to be found. He calls at 10:36 and says, "we are running a little late. We'll be leaving in 5 min." We pick out some snowboard boots for Denisse, and then we sit and wait. Well, 20 minutes later, we get ANOTHER phone call and Nate says. "Ok, we are leaving Can you tell us how to get there?"

Now would be a great time to go into detail about how Nate and Denisse are late to everything!! My mom (of course) blames Denisse. But you have to understand that my mom is totally biased when it comes to her sons. She defends them to the death, and there is nothing they can do wrong. I think that Denisse wouldn't take that long if Nate didn't let her. But you can't say that to my mom. Her sons can do no wrong.

Like the time I complained about Nate putting down tile in our downstairs bathroom. Well, lets just say the job was LESS EFFECTIVE and we were left with a GIANT mess, a cracked toilet (we had to buy a new one) shoddy work, and a bathroom that we had to put back together. When my mom heard this, she was like "well, he DID help you!" Um, yeah, but if we had hired a professional, they would've put the toilet and sink back together. Or at the least, they would've NOT CRACKED IT. But I can't say anything about my mom's "boys." (Sadly, I think it's this mode of thinking and treating them this way that has let Jacob become the little a-hole that he is right now)

Anyway, back to the topic: My brother and sister in law are FREAKISHLY late to everything. Like when we had Sunday dinner 2 weeks ago, and they were 3 and a half hours late. We were waiting and waiting for them, and then when I could take it no longer, I told everyone that we were just going to eat without them. (Sadly, you should know that the point of me not being able to "take it" any longer came when they were only 1o min late. But it's a good thing we didn't wait for them, right? The point of the story is that we should always listen to my belly) But they never said why they were late. They just were.

So they FINALLY arrive at BYU at like 11:35. And then it is discovered that Denisse is going to ski, not snowboard. So the board that I've picked out for her and had fitted to her boots will have to go back. And she needs to try on some new boots. Oh, and she doesn't have any ski pants. So we try to rent those too. BYU does rent pants, but they only have 2 sizes currently available: Men's 4xl and youth size 14. SHE FITS INTO THE YOUTH SIZE!!!! I knew she would. My brother and my mother are very confused about her size. Nathan said she's a size 8. I know she's a 4-6. I've seen her little butt and her skinny Latino hips. But whatever, the point is that she fit into these ridiculously tiny pants.

Oh, my brother has all the snowboarding equipment he would need, but he decides that he's going to ski so that he can be next to his wife as she's learning. I try on my mother's boots and find that I can fit into them just fine. So if I decide that I want to go down the bunny slope a few times, I can.

Before everyone starts FREAKING OUT about me going skiing when I'm 6 months pregnant, please know that I've been skiing since I was 8 years old, and i was going to go down the BUNNY slope for crying out loud. I was actually thinking of switching jackets with my mom and doing a green trail (aka, the easiest) but then my mom reminded me how I had to rest while trying on clothes at Target on Saturday night (I was getting a bathing suit. Why did I think it was a good idea to get one of these in the dead of winter while I am huge and pregnant and HUGE? I tried one on, and with all the pulling to get it up, I had to sit down and rest between suit rounds. I finally found one that hides my belly well enough, but it shows every dimple in my thighs. BLECH. That's all I have to say about bathing suits: BLECH!) Yeah, but back to point, I don't think I would've made it down the mountain.

Anyway, Nathan ALSO has to get fitted for boots, skis and poles. We FINALLY get out of there at like 12:10 and head up to THE SLOPES. The day is nice and pretty. We walk down and I set myself up in the lodge/cafe with a big cup of hot chocolate, an awesome book and 2 very decadent pastry squares. I enjoy my book and my fattening substances for a few hours.

My mom comes back and tells me that Denisse is having a HORRIBLE time with the skiing. That she keeps falling down, that she's covered in snow, and she just can't get it. My mom decides to wait for them a little while. But then Nathan finally comes over to the lodge and tells us that Denisse had to be brought down by ski patrol because she snapped something in her knee. The day is over for her.

Because we have our own car, My mom decides to finish skiing the rest of the day (only 2 more hours or so) and then we head home. I never did get the chance to go down that bunny slope. Oh well, there will be other chances later. Bad day for Nate and Denisse: good day for me, hot chocolate and a book.

I know I may come down on my mom a lot in this blog. So I want to say something now so that you all don't think that my mom is a horrible person. I know I rag on her a lot, and she has her own problems and issues (One is that her boys never have to clean, so she never expects her daughter's husbands to clean. If I whine about Marcelo not helping me with the laundry, it falls on deaf ears. She had NO help with any housework from anyone but her girls. But that is her own fault. Another one is that she's trying to ingrain in her daughters' minds the need to always make your man happy, have dinner ready, etc. However, a very STRONG point can be made that she did that for nearly 40 years and it didn't make ANYONE happy. Not her, not my father. Why, therefore, is she trying to push the same agenda on her girls? Just a thought.)

I don't want to get going, because this was the part of the email where I was going to PRAISE my mother. (Real good start on that one, right?) Anyway, I am thankful for the things she does. Like she put a pregnancy panel in my work pants. They were being held up with a safety pin and 2 rubber bands. But the P.P. lets me have all the room I need and I don't have to keep hitching up my pants every time I stand up from my desk. Also, it keeps me from having to buy new pants. I am the CHEAPEST girl you will ever see, especially when it comes to clothes. So I hate the fact that I might have to buy another pair of pants that I will only wear for 3 months. I would rather just wear these pants out until they get a hole in the crotch and they have to be thrown away in a biohazard bag. But the panel saved me from needing to do this, so for that I'm thankful to her.

(Some may say that a mother who criticizes her daughter for having 2 eggs and 2 pieces of toast for breakfast, but then approves of her going skiing 6 months pregnant is not a very good judge of what's right. I may agree with you.)

Well, at least my mom is good for a laugh. Right? For the slopes?

Happy Balentimes Day!

I hope all of you had a good Balentimes Day. Mine was ok. At about 3:30 I received a call from my mom and she told me that my brother had call her. He said, "Sooooo, what are you doing for Valentine's Day?" My mom told him that she, Marcelo and I were going to have a lasagna dinner together. And then he said, "Oh. Can we come over?"

So that's how he ended up over at my house last night eating my food and letting his dog run around my living room. The dinner was freaking awesome (because I made it, of course) but the desert was less effective. My mom was going to get Lofthouse cookies, but when she got to the store, they were all gone. At that point, I think that she should've bought some thing chocolate and/or ice cream like. She did not. She bought some un-frosted sugar cookies, a tub of low-sugar icing and 1 small bag of M&M's. Bastard.

Dessert was not great. I'm going to have to go make myself a sundae to help wash the memory of that horrible dessert from my mind.

Speaking of desserts, Lynn and I were talking about food today. (Reagan, you have a rival for food talk. You know I can't go more than 4 hours without talking about food) The conversation started my telling her that my hands smelled like bologna. The pre-molded kind where you have to remove the red tape around the outer rim before you eat it and you have to pick out suspicious little black things out of the nut meat.

She said that that kind is her FAVORITE and that growing up she was never allowed to have it. So she said that when she came to college she had at least 2 of those sandwiches a day. Did I mention that when she had those sandwiches they were fried. I think that is the best thing I've ever heard.

I said that my childhood decadence was Little Debbie snack cakes. And I never got to have them, so as soon as I came to school, I ate FAAAAAAR to many of them. I told her that 25 of the 40 pounds I put on my freshman year were due to these little fantastic pieces of sugared heaven. She said that she LOOOVES zebra cakes. She said that if she had a choice between zebra cakes and sleeping with Enrique Iglesias, she would most like choose the zebra cakes.

I had to agree with her. Who knows what kind of lover Enrique is. Yes, he's fantastically Latin and smarmy, but how quick is he? I mean, I'm going to be cheating on my husband and forfeiting 2 zebra cakes in the process. This is a big risk. I mean, with 2 zebra cakes, I know how long they will last, and how high my level of enjoyment will be with them. With Enrique, however, there is no such guarantee! That is a risk I don't think I'm willing to take!!

The morale of the story breaks down thusly; My knowledge of Zebra cakes:secure. My knowledge and trust in the lovin' skills of Enrique Iglesias:not so secure. It's really not a hard decision when you put colons in your sentence.

Guess what? I tricked Jean into giving me Monday off. How did I do that, might you wonder? Well, Martin Luther King Day was the first Monday that Lynn was gone. Everyone else was gone out of the office too. All the banks were closed, the title company was closed and so were all the mortgage companies. But I still had to come in and do nothing all day. And the Friday before, Jean said, "Oh, Monday is a holiday? But you don't get it off right?" I said, "Uhhhhh. . . " and she said, "I think you don't get this Monday off, but you get President's Day off, right?"

I knew for a FACT that we got neither of them off. So I quickly said, "Yeah, that sounds right." She said, "Go check the book" and I said "Oh I've seen it. That's right." And then guess what I did? I changed the book. (Heather, why didn't we think about this before? You KNOW that she has no idea what's going on unless she sees it in the book) I changed the book to give the assistants more days off. I forgot that the book actually says that you only get those days AFTER you have worked for a year. What a joke!

So, the next assistants can thank me. Even though Jean will probably try to change it later when she finds out what I did, but whatever, I'll be gone by then.

And finally, I was going to put this bacon flow chart on my blog, but I couldn't get it big enough to be clear. I really like bacon, and I think all of your do too, so you will totally be able to relate with me on this bacon-y turn of events. I'm just going to have to put the link. Please enjoy.

http://s7.photobucket.com/albums/y255/PinkRevival/lmao/?action=view&current=baconflowchart_700.jpg

List of things I did today at work

As I was reading Lynn's comment yesterday from my blog about how she was directed to order Dan's Thanksgiving turkey just so Jean could "hump her head" made me think about all the things I've recently had to do in order that Jean can show her dominance around the office. Honestly, it would just be easier if she copped a squat and took a deuce in the middle of the floor. Then we could know definitively that SHE'S the one in charge, and there wouldn't have to be so much head humping going on.

So her is just a partial list of things I've had to do TODAY for the a-holes in my office.

1. I asked Matt if he's taken down the sign at one of our listings. He replied by sending me this email.

“I installed a metal frame sign on the same day I listed the property, a Saturday. In fact, I’d asked Lynn the day before (Friday) to prepare the sign for me (He means the small sign that sticks in the ground that we have in the office. As opposed to the larger signs which we have to order up from a sign service), which she forgot to do; and then on Monday, when I turned in the listing—with the written instruction that I’d installed a stamp-it-yourself-in-the-ground (aka “metal frame”) sign and with the further instruction to create a voice ad for the 800# attached to that sign—despite all these instructions, Lynn nevertheless and still ordered a post-in-the-ground sign. The Circlepix shot in fact shows both signs in the ground. I de-installed the s-i-y-i-t-g (aka “mf”) sign, and now you need to order the post-in-the-ground sign to be de-installed. Already I’m conflating Lynn with Tracey, in terms of ineptitude. Sheesh."

(Just in case you were wondering, the word "conflating" means to mix or combine things: a transitive and intransitive verb to join or merge two or more things into a unified whole. i.e. "I'm afraid you've mistakenly conflated two separate sets of facts." Leave it to Matt to be more of a total asshole during a total asshole email)
Now, I would like everyone to know that Lynn is borderline genius and Tracey was a 45 year old (very likely) mentally challenged woman. Very nice, (as most mentally challenged are) but slower than a bag of turtles and dumber than a palate of rocks. To illustrate this, let me tell you that Lynn has a masters degree which she achieved in 6 years. (It took me 5 just to get my bachelors, which I guess isn’t saying TOO much. I’m a bad student) and she recently told me that she took the LSAT for "fun" and scored a 170 on it. 180 is the max, just in case you were wondering. (Sorry if you didn't want that info spread around Lynn. I just thought that people should know to whom Matt was comparing Tracey)

Tracey would have to write ads for the homes illustrated magazine, and it would take her a day and a half. 12 FULL hours, and get this: THE COMPUTER WRITES THEM FOR YOU!! There is a button you push and it creates new wording describing the house, features, etc. What a joke!! And then when she finally left, I looked at the ad that she completed in that time, and there was something wrong with EVERY AD! I couldn’t believe it!! 12 hours to do something that I had to fix anyway.

Lynn was actually really scared to do those ads because she watched Tracey struggle through them, and then when it was her chance, she just laughed and laughed because she realized Tracey is a moron.

But Lynn told me the truth about this “sign” incident. She said that he NEVER asked her to create a sign for him, and then he specifically asked her to ORDER UP a big sign. He even went so far as to ask her later in the day if the sign got ORDERED UP. She said yes, she ordered it up. He CONVENIENTLY didn’t mention that little fact when he was vilifying Lynn. Well, I know that he was confused, wasn’t communicating well, and then after Lynn left he felt totally justified in blaming her for the whole thing. (The day after she left, he actually sent an email to Jean telling her this and saying, “SEE!! Lynn checked out a long time ago.” Jean was kind enough to forward it to me, (presumably so I would start to hate Lynn too) and I sent it to Lynn, (whom I don’t hate and am very envious of right now)

Lynn, I miss you. This job sucks THAT MUCH MORE without you. Moving on.

2. Today, I also had to hunt down the phone number for Utah State Tax Commission. Jean forgot to pay her personal property taxes (How does she not learn? We JUST got audited for this last month). She told me she thinks she missed the deadline, and that I would have to go down to the county and get the new assessment form for her. So after an extensive search looking for the phone number AND address of the place, she calls out to me “Oh, I found it!!” Turns out she’s a horrible organizer and loses things on her desk all the time. She found the voucher on her desk under a giant stack of crap.

Here’s what I don’t get, where does she get off yelling at me about my drawer being open and nearly taking off Lynn’s hand one day when she slammed her door shut, and yet she loses things ALL THE TIME because she can’t get it together? I’m sure I would’ve been blamed for her losing it had it not turned up. You know, I didn’t put it in a red folder, or a blue folder, or I put it in her box but it only had a yellow post-it, and she needed it to have an orange post-it so she wouldn’t lose it. You know. My fault. Always.

3. I got a call from Larry H. Miller of Lexus. I could see Matt was on the other line, so I put her on hold. I then IM’s Matt and told him she was there. He sends back a message “Ask when they can pick me up.” But by that time she had hung up. I said, “Sorry, she’s gone. I guess you can just call her back” and then he says this, “801-224-3200” WHAT THE FUUUUUU!!!!!???? So, I’m to understand from that that you want ME to call your car dealership for you. Great. I am the office slave, so I’ll get right on that.

So I call, and the service guy starts saying that a) he doesn’t know what is going on with the car. He can’t get it to make the same sound Matt described. b) he wants to keep the car overnight c) he doesn’t have a car to give matt. After I hang up with Matt and give him this info, he says, “Well, what are they going to do about it?” Ummmm, I DON’T KNOW!!! WHY DON’T YOU DO YOUR OWN DAMN PERSONAL CALLS SO I DON’T HAVE TO KEEP UP WITH THIS INANE GAME OF MESSAGE TAG!”

That was it. That was my day. When you say your prayers tonight, thank H.F. that you aren’t living my life. I’m done now. I’m going home and all I want to do is eat fries and watch my TiVo. But my mom is there, and she’s going to try to knock the fries out of my hand and then pester me until I agree to go to the gym or go for a walk in this falling snow. But I’m not going to let her nag me today. Tonight is MY night. BACK OFF LADY.

Have a good Wednesday, everyone!

Lazy Tuesday

My mom is trying to get me to help her strip wallpaper but I'm doing a GREAT job of ignoring her. I actually helped her for a little while, but now I won't be doing any of it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the chemical they used to strip the glue has an agent in it known to cause cancer and birth defects in the state of California. But mostly I'm just lazy. And I have horrible acid reflux right now. I don't know what it was that I ate, but I'll have to remember to stay away from it in the future.

Next item of conversation: I have horrible Dandruff. This is due to many factors: I live in a horribly dry desert state, I have really sensitive skin, I have very fine hair, and lastly, I ran out of my dandruff shampoo.

Now, with just ONE of these things happening you can see how dandruff would sprout up from time to time. But all of them happened last week. It's like a full on bowl of corn flakes up there! Right around my hairline you can see the dry skin, and it almost looks like when you burn your scalp and it peels. That's how dry and crackly it is.

I don't wash my hair every day because it dries it out,(so I've been told) but on day #2, the flakes are so large, they require their own boarding pass on flights. It gets awkward when the TSA agents say, "And now we need to pat down your head and check those dandruff flakes for any liquids over 5 Oz."

But I ran out of my Head and Shoulders: Ocean Mist the other day, and the flakes became visible from space. I just got a new bottle of it, and my scalp skin is still trying to get back on schedule. You know what? I never did ask my OB/GYN if it was ok for me to use H&S while pregnant. That could be bad. . .

Next topic: Office birthday parties. Jeans' was last week. And guess what? She got stiffed. I'm sure I will somehow be blamed for this. But you know what? For years I watched Heather stress out for MONTHS about what to get her, and then Jean would whine anyway about what she got. There was NO WAY I was going to do that. And I love the fact that even though Matt has been there more than 10 years and Dan's been there more than 6, they always leave it up to the assistant to plan the party and pick out the gift.

This year, I wasn't playing. I was NOT going to give her another $300 pen that she really didn't need and she only wanted so she could pull it out and TELL people that it was worth $300. For her, the best presents are things that she doesn't really need, but are flashy so they impress the little peons who have never seen anything to LUXURIOUS in their lives. What a waste.

So I threw out some ideas, and we decided we would all go and do something fun as an office. (Lani, her roommate suggested we get her season 8 of Monk on DVD and maybe another pen. UHHHH) But we vetoed that and all decided on the fun activity. They picked the weekend to do it (March 22nd) and I think that I'm going to be mysteriously SICK that day. Or I'm going to sprain my ankle, or just something to get out of spending anymore time than necessary with these horrible people.

But here is the BEST part about Jean's birthday. She'll get cards in the mail, and she'll PROP THEM UP ON HER DESK LIKE LITTLE "FRIEND TROPHIES." It's as if she's trying to remind everyone that she DOES TOO have friends, cause look!! They sent her a card! Tomorrow will be 8 days after her birthday and she'll still have those cards up. And they aren't facing her!! Like I can understand if maybe she keeps up the pretty ones or all of them so she can see them and remember who sent them to her. But no!! they are facing AWAY from her. So that anyone that walks in her office sees them. They are CLEARLY on display not for her benefit, but for the enjoyment of OTHERS. Um, Jean? I don't care what other people think about you. I think that you are a turd.

Here's the thing: I don't see a card from any past assistants. Even her most precious Erin didn't send her a card or even STOP BY on her birthday. (Yeah, Heather, Erin moved back. Jean made sure to let me know that she offered her a job. I wanted to say, "did she let you know that she would rather stick needles in her eyes then come and work for you?" But I know she just wanted me to squirm and think that my job was in jeopardy. I never did. No one wants to come back and work for Jean) Anway, I wonder why there were no cards in there from past assistants. Hmmmm. . .

I mean Jean is always telling me what a great job I have, right? Why is it that she can't let me figure that out on my own? Like she doesn't trust that I'll be able to figure that one out? I DID graduate from college, Jean. I can figure things out! But for some reason, she feels the need to CONSTANTLY remind me about how GREAT my job is. After the 2nd reminder, I was suspicious, and then when I heard it the third time I knew the truth. But by then, it was too late. I was stuck, and she knew it. Bastard boss.

So that's my random info for the day. And here is my random picture. It's a picture of my 6 year old niece being patted down at the airport in Texas. Apparently 6 year -olds are the newest terror threat. Watch out! Your 5 year olds are next! You can't pull anything over on us!

HAPPY NATIONAL PANCAKE DAY!!

Today is National Pancake day. Mom and I woke up at 6:30 so we could be out the door at 6:45 so we could be at the IHOP at 7:00 pm. And why did we do this? BECAUSE IHOP IS GIVING AWAY FREE PANCAKES!!!

That's right. All day today, until 10 pm, they are giving away a "short stack" of 3 pancakes with a GIANT dollop of butter. (I think I should've asked for another scoop of it on top of my short stack)

I think that I should go there after work today for another fine helping of free pancakes. My only lament is that I didn't get to post this until nearly 1 pm today, thus cutting out 5 hours of everyone's pancake enjoyment. (well, everyone who stalks my blog and reads it religiously, that is).

So, if you are reading this before 10 pm on Tuesday, Feb 12 GO GET YOURSELF SOME PANCAKES!! You may have to fight your way through a crowd of bums, hippies and or poor college students, but those pancakes are AWESOME.

And don't forget to tip your waitresses.

Papa was a Rollin' (Republican) Stone

This post may be a little old. Super Tuesday WAS nearly a week ago. But anyway, here it is.

I know this won't come as a shock, but my family has been republican for many many years. However, it may surprise you that this is due mostly to my MOTHER'S side of the family. I have no idea what my father's family believes politically. I do know that my father loves Rush and Sean Hannity-Two of the people I most despise in this world. It's not so much WHAT they say that pisses me off, but how they say it with total arrogance. They speak as if they have done all the investigation and have come to the conclusion of what RIGHT is and then they mock and belittle those that don't agree with them. I hate that. I can't listen to them without total rage boiling up in my veins.

But this post is about my mom's family's political feelings. My mom was born and raised in California, a state that many people consider to be STAUNCHLY Democrat. Add to that the fact that she has many hippie siblings who when we get together at our family reunions do nothing but drink coffee, smoke pot and talk about what the word "jihad" really means when those radicals declare it on us.

But it all started with my grandma. She's a R-E-P-U-B-L-I C-A-N till the day she dies. Oh wait, she already died, and on that day, she was holding her little ceramic elephant and talking about President Bush. I kid. She was doing neither. But she was still a devoted Republican and let me tell you why: Her husband ran for U.S. Senate in the state of California as a Republican.

That's right, my grandfather vied for a seat in Congress. He didn't win. If he did, I probably wouldn't be here today. But I need to get a copy of a greeting card the family sent out the year that he was running and scan it into the computer for y'all to see. It has a picture of him and his family sitting around the tree and my mom has to be 8 years old. They are the perfect model of family unity and what everyone should aspire to become. Of course, it was all a lie.

It would only be 7 years later when my grandfather would take my grandmother on a FABULOUS trip to the Virgin Islands and tell her that he no longer wanted to be with her. He would say that he didn't actually want to divorce her, but he did want to move to a million dollar home overlooking the golf course with his secretary/mistress while she stayed in her crappy home down in town. He said that he would be living with and having sex with someone else, but he would still stay married to her on paper. Makes sense right?

As a side note, it was always REALLY awkward when we had to go visit him and his lady. Her name was Lydia, and we called her just that. Not grandma, not grammie, not anything endearing. Just Lydia. It was weird and very confusing for a child of 5 or 6 to comprehend. I like to think that he didn't win because Providence knew 7 years before hand that he would be a bastard towards his family really soon.

Anyway, I think that my mother's older brother and her youngest sister rebelled against their father, the Republican, and hence became the BIGGEST hippies you'll ever see. But that didn't stop my grandma from continuing her strong support of the Republican party. And she would go to all the rallies and donate to the Republican Party. She was WAY in, like the mafia. I'm pretty sure G-ma had the elephant tattooed on her lower back. A conservative tramp stamp, so to speak. I just always thought it was funny that in a very blue state, my grandma is royally screwed by my red grandpa, and yet still defends his political party to the very end.

And truth be told, I just found out that my mother is more like her hippie siblings than she lets on. (Did I mention my mom is in town? She'll be here for 3 weeks. Yikes. A horror story follows at the end of this post) So I'm watching "A Baby Story" on TLC, and we happen to be watching this one episode where a woman decides to go the natural route. All other episodes of A Baby Story, when the women do it naturally, they are all really calm and it looks no different than the other births with an epidural. But this lady was TWEAKING. She was convulsing and moaning and just all together HIGH DRAMA.

I mentioned to my mother that most women weren't like that on this show, and she said, "Did you know I delivered all of you naturally? All except my first" WHAT THE WHHAAAAAT?? I just stared at her open mouthed. I said, "You are such a hippie!!!" She continued. "With my first one, I was knocked out completely. After 36 hours of labor, they had to put me out. That's what converted me. After that I swore to myself that I would never do that again."

You have to remember that my mom delivered her first baby 9 days after her 18th birthday. This was way back in 1968 when they still didn't know what was going on with drugs and better birthing methods. I don't know HOW they knocked her out, but I could see it being ether or some other primitive substance. In later years she would say the same about birth control, always calling it "NASTY birth control". She took it for 5 or 6 years and then couldn't get pregnant. Again, I'm sure that this was due to the fact that back then hormone levels were jacked to the sky.

But back to the point: my mother is a hippie. She used to make fun of my aunt's La Leche League practices (like those of nursing your kid till they are old enough to go to kindergarten) and her crazy hippie practices of not shaving her legs, arms or anything else. But she is one of those herself. I mean, who else besides hippies have 5 kids naturally? Let me tell you that the last baby was born in 1989. I'm sure medicine had improved enough in those years to make it safe for you to get an epidural. But nope, she did that one naturally too.

Here's the craziest one: She held off having my sister Julie for nearly an hour while she waited for my brother Jeff to arrive. He was her birthing coach, and was there for all the classes from the start. They couldn't find Jeff (this is in 1985, before cell phones) and he was missing. And so while they tried to track him down, she stopped pushing and stopped everything. She said that was the worst, but she made it. She also said that was the one birth where they didn't give her an episiotomy. She tore a shape of what she called "Lord Voldemort." I think she meant a zig zag like on Harry's forheard, because that's the line she drew with her finger when she told me. Anyway, it was a bad tear, and she had to go back 2 days later to get re-stitched because she ripped her stitches out. Ripped out. Just say those words a few times. I think that is the most pleasant thought I've heard all day.

Anyway, I still don't know what I'm going to do about my birth. Do I want to do it naturally? Not really. Do i want an epidural? Not really. Isn't there a good medium? I guess my current plan is to see how bad the pain gets and go from there. Maybe that's foolish of me. It probably is. I've never had a baby before.

Here is my post summed up: My mother is a hippie, My grandfather was a cheating bastard, and I don't want to tear like Lord Voldemort.

P.S. Sometimes I feel guilty that I'm not inviting my mom into the delivery room with me. But then she makes a comment and I don't feel so badly about it anymore. Like last night, we were going grocery shopping and I was talking about how I love to use these little 4 inch plates for my breakfast. I usually have 2 eggs on top of 2 pieces of toast. And I put each one on an individual plate and it's fantastic because I don't have to wash a single thing. And as I'm telling her about how the plates aren't big enough for both my pieces of toast, she says, "Well, have you thought about only having 1 egg and 1 piece of toast?"

While I know that I may not look it, please do try to remember that I am 6 months pregnant. And I don't think that 1 egg and 1 piece of toast will hold me over from 7:30 am to 12:30 pm when I can come home and eat again. I started to say this and my mom is like "oh yeah, one egg wouldn't fill you up". Like it's MY fault I can't be satisfied by one egg and 1 toast for 5 hours! And did I detect a hint of the suggestion that I should somehow TRAIN my 6 month pregnant body to be satisfied with that amount of food? It pissed me off, and I'm still pissed about it. I changed the subject because I didn't want to go off on her in the middle of Macey's. Sometimes my mom just doesn't get it.

Odds and Ends

Just a few tidbits to make you all realize how just absolutely ROCKING my life is:

* I just did a "no cost" refinance of my home. My mortgage broker said it would be free and it would lower my monthly rate nearly $100 bucks a month. Guess how much this "free" refinance costs? $1818.92. Which I don't think we really have right now. I should be fair. I have to pay $1818.92 up front and then I'll get back more than $1300 in a few weeks. So it really IS saving us money this month, but I just have to bring in the initial money to close it tomorrow. THEY ARE VERY LUCKY THAT MARCELO AND I ARE FREAKING RICH AND WE CAN AFFORD THEIR LITTLE "NO COST" FEE OF $1818.92!! They are lucky we use $100 bills to wipe our butts every night. I'll just grab a few of those next time I'm by the toilet.

* Marcelo is OBSESSED with the elections. This also happened 4 years ago right after we were first married when we lived in that horrible little apartment in the ghetto of Provo. He would watch the presidential debates (sometimes on the Spanish channel becuase his English wasn't so good at that point) and he would comment on them continuously, asking me what they were trying to say. He had lived in this country for about 2 months, but he LOVED every minute of it. He's in FULL election mode now. As I type, he's watching and getting excited for "Super Tuesday." I LOVE the fact that he doesn't try to talk about crap that he doesn't know anything about. He just loves to listen and take in the whole experience. I think that his happiest day will be when he gets his citizenship and can vote for himself.

* My dog smells like corn chips when she wakes up in the morning. Like FULL ON smells like Fritos. And not just when she wakes up in the morning. When I come home in the evening she's been in her little cage in our pantry closet and that WHOLE room smells like Frito Pie. (FYI Frito pie is made up of Fritos, a layer of chili and cheese on top. I know you were all wondering) It's not a good smell. Sometimes Marcelo will wake up really early at go to the gym at like 4 am and then come home and walk in our bedroom and immediately have to leave becuase the Frito smell is over powering. We WOULD leave the door open, but she might run down and start pawing through the trash in the middle of the night. (I think that sometimes my pregnancy gas contributes to the horrible smell, but we'll just go on letting Marcelo think it's all the dog)

* I love TiVo. It's like the greatest thing since, well, since TELEVISION. The funny thing about TiVo is that it's like Big Brother. It tracks your watching habits and then records things that it THINKS you will like. The problem is that if you record something ONCE you can never get that memory out of TiVo's mind. It's like a resentful spouse. For example, Marcelo recorded something on QVC the other day. Yes, you read that correctly. QVC. What must've happened is that he was flipping through the list of shows, and he liked the title. He didn't happen to notice that it was flipping QVC. (Well, maybe he DID see that it was QVC, but he didn't know what that meant) Anyway, when I showed it to him (laughing at him in the process, of course) he said that he didn't mean to do it and we recorded it immediately. But TiVo still continues to torment me and record at least one show from QVC every day. CURSE YOU RESENTFUL TIVO MEMORY!

* Marcelo has the best/worst stories from growing up in Ecuador. I'm pretty sure that I've told you the story about how his oldest brother was stolen from the hospital just hours after he was born, right? If not, let me know and I'll retell it the best I can. I know I've told you all about the "worm" that attacked him and almost killed him when he was like 8. Anyway, if given reign over the remote, Marcelo will IMMEDIATELY turn it to the crappy Spanish channels. We used to not be able to watch ANYTHING together because I couldn't stand his shows and he felt the same about mine. Well, that has changed because there are now several shows we can watch together. But that doesn't change the fact that he will go RIGHT to those channels if given the chance.

So last night, that's what he does. He starts watching this show on "Univision" called "Los Cinco Magnificos". I don't get the ENTIRE premise, but from what I understand and from what he tells me (but who knows; he could be BSing me) there are several groups of circus performers and one of the group is a novice who they are teaching. Almost like Dancing With the Stars. But with elephants. And trapeze artists. And leotards with sequins where men's packages are VERY well displayed. Anyway, all of a sudden Marcelo starts to tell me about how he used to take care of the animals when the circus would come to town.

You should know that I am pretty gullible. But when Marcelo tells me something and I want to make sure that he's not lying to me, I say "jurame" which means "Swear to me." If he answers "te prometo" I will repeat "jurame." If he STILL won't "Jurar" then I know he's trying to BS me.
But he didn't do it this time. I didn't even have to ask him if he was being honest: you could SEE it in his eyes. He said that he was 9 or 10 when the circus came to town, and one of the workers asked him if he wanted to make a little money for the week. He was in charge of getting a hold of all the food the animals would need while they were there. Straw and hay for the elephants; raw chicken for the lions and tigers and so on. He said he got to help feed them every day, he got to ride the elephant and he even got some free tickets to the show. (He said they were really good seats, and he actually sold one of them for even more money. That's my boy) He was all excited talking to me about it and I could just see the excitement in his eyes to remember it. Good times in Ecuador.

I wish I would've known him when he was that age. I bet he was fun to hang out with. I will just say it again: I think Marcelo had the craziest, saddest, happiest, best, worst and greatest childhood ever. I hope that our kids have HALF the experiences (the good experiences that is) that Marcelo has had.

*Last item. Marcelo commented today on how he's sad that his family is missing out on all the big experiences in his life. No one was here for our marriage, and now no one will be here for the birth of our first child. It really made him sad to verbalize that. I think that no matter what, we HAVE to get his mother here for the birth of at least ONE of our kids. My mother in law is awesome (I think. I don't really know her that well. But what I know of her is awesome) But guys aren't supposed to miss their families. And to know that Marcelo was lamenting that loss, that thought made me a sad panda.

Here's to Super Tuesday!!

Rolly Polley-Oh No-y!!

As anyone who has slept with me will tell you(And I'm sure MANY of you fall into that category, right?), I am a roller when I sleep. In the immortal words of Derek Zoolander: I'm not an ambi-turner. I don't turn left when I roll. Always to the right and ALWAYS taking the blankets with me.

This always results in both of us awakening in the morning with the blankets decidedly on my side and Marcelo freezing his little nuts off with only the sheet to keep him warm. However, for the past 2 months, this has changed. At night I'll start on my right side, and then maybe try to roll to the right and lay on my stomach before I go to bed. But it's not a smooth roll now. I have to make sure that my belly and boobs aren't trapped underneath me. But I'll always go back (turning to the left now! YES, Believe it!) and fall asleep on my right side. Where before I would make a continuous circle to the right and then end up on my right side again, this no longer happens.

Well, I JUST figured out why. Last night was especially bad. We went to bed at 10 pm, and I woke up at 12, 1:30, 3, 5:30 and finally for good at 7. Most of the time I woke up becuase I had to pee, but twice I woke up because I was FREEZING. I somehow had clung to the sheet on top of me, but the two blankets on our bed were nowhere to be found. I now know EXACTLY how Marcelo feels.

It was at my 5:30 wakening when I pulled the blankets from off Marcelo, bundled up and tried to turn over on my stomach. Well, seeing is how I was half asleep, I didn't plan my turn all the way through. I rolled to the right and I almost died. My belly and baby got trapped on the left side of my body while the rest of my body went right. THE PAIN!!! The most excruciating pain stabbed my belly and let me know that neither my body NOR my baby were happy with the decision I made. I had to roll back on my side and breathe through the pain for about 30 seconds.

And then I realized that I'm no longer turning all the way around in bed at night. I start on my side, roll to my back and push the covers to Marcelo's side. Then back on my side, but this time I don't take the blankets with me. Repeat over and over again. This explains why I keep waking up freezing MY nuts off, and why I no longer keep rolling around all the way. It's like my body instinctively knows what it can't do and when I try to override that instinct, it punishes me. AS WELL IT SHOULD!! It seems my instinct is the only thing that's keeping my baby safe.

Anyway, another funny story from last night: When I got up at 3 to go pee, I was sitting there and I heard Marcelo get up. I finished, then he went pee and climbed back in bed. He laid on his back, and I was on my left side curled up next to him. He goes "UGH! YOUR BREATH. Turn over!" and I was pissed!! and I was like "YOU TURN OVER!" And then I realized that he wanted to snuggle with me! I will turn over to snuggle ANY DAY. So I flipped onto my right side and he spooned right up against me with his hand on my belly.

If any of you haven't had a chance to sleep like that in a while. I HIGHLY recommend it. My only regret is that I didn't stay awake longer and enjoy it. I literally fell asleep in 20 seconds. BOOO! Who knows where spooning could've led. . .

Finally, I would like to say that I am thankful I haven't had anyone come over to my house for well over 6 weeks now. Wanna know why? Because my Christmas tree is still up!! Yup, that's what laziness, no children and a separate living room will do for you. I know that lots of you had to take down your tree or face the possibility of your kids eating the ornaments. But I don't have kids yet, and my dog is very well behaved. I think she's actually kind of a afraid of the tree, seeing is how if you get too close it will poke you. And I come in the back door, so I don't see it every day until I go up to bed. And by that time, I'm not going to take it down. I'm on my way to bed, pues!

Anyway, please continue to not come to my house. At least until I take down my tree. And who knows when that will be at this rate. Anyone want to make a bet?

Oh, one other fun pregnancy yet somewhat inappropriate story. When I woke up at 5:30, before I went to the bathroom, I realized that I couldn't breathe. I sucked in through my nose sharply and felt a nice, dry, BIG crusty booger hit the back of my throat. I immediately coughed and SWALLOWED it. In good news I could instantly breathe, but in bad news, I can now be considered a booger eater. Officially I eat my nose jewels. FANTASTIC. Let's pass that info around, shall we?

Another Ultrasound

I had to go in for a second ultrasound yesterday. When I went in for my first one 4 weeks ago, they couldn't see the heart very well. The doctor said that she wanted me to come back again so they could see the heart clearer.

I was excited because that meant more pictures. (Well, not all the way excited becuase it would mean making up another excuse to get out of work.) But I was excited to see the baby again. I was excited to see that it had grown. 4 weeks ago it was less than a pound. I think they said it was like 12 oz. But yesterday they told me it was 1 pound 7 oz. That's it? They why have I put on 40 pounds. CRAP. Anyway, that weight is right on track for where it should be at 24/25 weeks.

BUUUUUUUUUUUT there was a problem! They couldn't see the baby's face. They poked at me for about 3 minutes trying to get it to rotate and face the camera. But my little gusano was perfectly happy to stay nestled with its head facing my kidney in the back. I thought that maybe they were just trying to get a face shot so that we had another good photo. Like maybe they were doing it for MY benefit. I mean, the first set of photos had a nice profile view, so I thought they just wanted a better one of those for me. I should've known better given the surly attitude of the tech.

When the doctor came in to review the pictures, she told me that the heart looked good, and strong I was happy that I wouldn't have to come back again. BUT THEN SHE SAID SHE WANTED ME TO COME BACK AGAIN IN 8 WEEKS!!! WHAT THE WHAT?!?! She said they wanted to check the growth and some other things. I didn't question her, because, well, she's a doctor.

But then Reagan asked me how it went, and when I told her that the lady wants me to come back again, she said, "A THIRD one? Usually you only have one! Did they say why?" And then I felt dumb for not asking more questions about why I should come back again. Reagan suggested I ask her sister in law, who is an X-ray tech too. I thought that was a good idea

I called her on the way home, and she said that I shouldn't be worried. She said there is a list of things they have to see on the baby, and if they can't see them, then they ask you to come back again. She thought that maybe they wanted me to come back because they couldn't see the face and hence they couldn't see if the baby had a cleft palate or some other deformity. That made me feel better and yet nervous at the same time. Well, no use in getting worried just yet.

So here are the three pictures I got from yesterday. The only one that rocks is the first one. It's obviously a foot. (Well, mostly it's obvious because she wrote "FOOT" on it) The others I think they are pretty crappy. Like I said, tThe tech who took them was kind of a dill hole. Whatever.















A good example of her dill hole-ness is obvious in this next photo.


What is that? What was she thinking? I think she was pissed at me that I asked her for two sets of photos. Anyway, she gives me this horrible shot that she doesn't even label or tell me what it's *supposed* to be. A foot? The heart? My cervix? Who knows!! Thanks dill-hole X-ray tech!

Maybe she gave me a shot of the kid's crotch because she knew that I didn't want to know the sex. Like she did it just to piss me off. I wouldn't put it past her. Did I mention she was pretty much a horrible person? Yeah, I think that idea was pretty accurately conveyed.

Well, at least the third ultrasound gives me a chance for one more set of pictures, right? But it will mean making up another excuse. Well, maybe not. My job might know by then. We'll see. I might not be able to make it till then. But who knows. I really just look BIG. Not pregnant, just big.

Oh, that makes me remember. Will some of you ladies that have previously been pregnant tell my husband that while my face IS fat right now, it's just water? I tried to tell him that, I BEGGED him to believe me, but he's never seen a pregnant lady up close (let alone lived with one) so he just thinks it's fat. IT'S NOT FAT!!! I PROMISE!! (Well, maybe some of it is) I just need someone to tell him the truth. I think that I'm going to have my doctor tell him the next time I have an appt.

Let's see how he handles the truth, baby! Have a good Saturday everyone!