Let it be known that I am not a cocktease

So I taunted you with the promise of a post about Saturday night's sex tradeshow excursion, but I've been kind of at odds about it. Blogging about sex and it's accoutrements is not really my bailiwick. I usually leave that up to the Petras of the writing world; they do it, and they do it well.

So to speak.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm very glad people share these things. Otherwise I might have been startled to find myself sipping a Cosmopolitan while surrounded by every shape, size, color and flavor of dildo ever created.

(As it was I could casually browse the merchandise and say things like, "Oohhh, this one is a DUAL vibe," without appearing like a complete idiot. I hope.)

I am going to point out here that I don't go out much anymore. It's not that I don't like to have a good time - it's just that I wrung the last drop of appeal out of the "loud bar and bad cover band" scene ages ago, and not a lot else happens around here. So when opportunities like this arise (heh - double entendre anyone?), you jump on them (and again! Okay, I'm done). Except that so does everybody else.

And it's a small city, folks. In a teeming crowd of drunks carrying bags of sex toys, I ran into at LEAST five people that I never wanted to have to picture having sex. Ever.

Because "Taboo - The Naughty But Nice Sex Show" was less of a tradeshow and more of an opportunity for many vendors to hawk their wares. Which is fine, I'm up for an evening of cocktails and shopping. But a couple of acquaintances were awfully proud of their purchases, and I'm cursed with a vivid imagination. Shudder.

There were lotions, potions, costumes, jewelry, supplements (including some super sketchy 'all natural party drug' that you 'sold to your friends who sold to THEIR friends'), piercing, hot tubbing, pole dancing classes, and every kind of sex toy you could possibly imagine.

And some you probably didn't want to. I'm looking at YOU, "J-Ho blow up doll".

A few stray thoughts:

"Oh, look, people in cages."

"Glass dildos? Really? I mean, it looks pretty sturdy, but still...I have had enough stitches down there thankyouverymuch."

"Oooh! Free glitter!"

"Is shopping at the "Five Dollar" rack a good idea?"

To be honest we were hoping for a bit more "entertainment". There was supposed to be a drag show, but I guess we missed it, as well as the belly dancing. There were seminars (including "Why Pyrex glass?" which might have been helpful), but...seminars? After 3 drinks? There was a stage show featuring a local vendor, which was okay and had some lovely physical specimens, but that was about it. There was body painting, but nothing groundbreaking, and the models just stood there.

FoN said, "I thought there'd be more wandering entertainment." I thought so, too, but would you really want to amble half-naked through a packed floor of semi-rednecks that had been drinking all night?

(The answer to that is a resounding, "How much liquor have I been plied with?").

So, it was a couple of hours of good entertainment before we headed off to the loud bar and cover band*. Here's the girls with their evenings purchase (ten bucks! with batteries! fits in your purse for emergencies! and waterproof. SOLID BUY, people):




Yes, I bought one too. And, much like the post about my uterus, this is probably the one and only time I'll mention THAT.

(Probably should have sprung for the latex Batgirl costume though).



*It was a GOOD cover band, so it was still fun.

♫These are the people in my neighbourhood, in my neighbourhood ♫: Wordless Wednesday

(This wasn't attached in anyway, so I can only assume this person's friends hate them. At lot.)

Drunken bacon zombies something something: Random Tuesday Thoughts

You know it, folks...it's that time again! If you're new here, it's pretty easy - just grab the button, post it on your own nonsensical, possibly wine-influenced post, and then skip back here to leave your link with Mr. Linky.

I kind of took a mini-blogging vacation over the weekend. You'd think that with an extra day or two off I would arrive back all refreshed and full of ideas, but no - mostly I slept. Well, on Saturday night FoN and I and a couple others went to a sex tradeshow, but that kind of warrants its own post so that's all I'm going to say about that.

(A sex TRADESHOW, not a SEX TRADE show. Although all the visual indicators said that demographic was represented.)

I usually jot down one or two ideas during the week for these posts, but because I slept a lot that didn't happen. So this is probably the first RTT post since it's inception where I'm going in cold. To aid the flow of ideas, I thought I'd go for a run first. I even took a pen and notebook.

Turns out, to make running tolerable I need to think about NOTHING. Or pretend I'm pushing a cart of supplies through zombie-infested territory, two swords strapped to my back, eye on the horizon for herds of shambling corpses. But, mostly nothing.

So I'm back to my faithful inspirational nectar of the gods, shiraz. Right now I'm drinking a recent discovery from Copper Moon. Nom.

I'm totally going to email them and tell them I pimped their stuff on my blog. Maybe they'll send me a crate bottle or two.

I had no zombie dreams while doing my copious amounts of sleeping this weekend. I did, however, have a terrible, terrible dream where I had to SLEEP AT MY PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT to get work done and the boss kept waking up my kid.

("Copious amount" is a very relative term, by the way. I had two full nights and a nap. I would have laughed at myself 5 years ago, I was a sleeping PRO. Napping was practically one of the major things Paul and I had in common).

My dog can Houdini her way out of her harness, if she's determined enough. She has no neck, so she can just back out of anything we put on her. So while I was picking up dog food this morning I thought I'd ask about more...restrictive...versions. I asked the store clerk if they had any kind of harness that went around the back end, as well. I'm positive I've seen that somewhere.

"No, sorry. We have these ones, that go around the narrowest part of their body, you know, the 'tuck'. That might work"

"Yeah, she doesn't really have a 'tuck' - she's a fatass. She's more what you'd call a 'sausage'. Do you have, like, a full body suit for dogs?"

"Um..."

"Like a Body Glove? Are there suits for surfing dogs that I could just attach a leash to?"

"I don't really think...I mean, the owner isn't in right now but he might know..."

"Or something in latex?"

Then my son distracted the clerk by pointing to the dog toys and shrieking, "Ball. Ball. BALL!!". So I bought him the dog a toy and left.

Pretty sure I can find the surfing dog suit online, anyway.

Prior to the dog store we had to go get X's 18-month immunization shots. That's always a fun time, huh? Holding your hysterical, screaming child while some vindictive bitch stabs him three times? I usually let Paul hold him and then I do the comforting afterward, but this time I was flying solo. Also, due to systemic procrastination a scheduling mishap, he only got the "12 month" ones a couple of months ago. So he totally remembered what the deal was.

He probably would have been okay, but he was already upset that the play area had a distinct shortage of BALLS.

I always feel like calling in sick after those little episodes, I'm pretty much traumatized for the day.

I didn't, though. I still went to work. Even though my boss made me sleep there and woke my kid up, that asshole.

Oh, no, wait. That part was a dream.

Anybody else feel their borders blurring lately? No? Just me then? Okay.

And now - Bacon Flavored Vodka.

So, Swine Flu = Zombie Apocalypse? You guys think? It's gotta be close. Fashionista texted me the other day to inform me she'd had her first zombie dream. She blamed me, but I think it's just the collective unconscious telling us that it's coming. Morphic resonance.

I know, you're thinking: how can someone know so much about so little and still be a complete fucking idiot?

It's a talent.

What's YOUR talent? We want pics.

Okay, no we don't, we - er, I - just want your Random Tuesday Thoughts. Grab the button, link up, and then visit your compatriots to see what THEY'RE thinking about!

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I'd probably be a better conspiracy theorist if I wasn't so weird: Friday Fill-Ins

I'm a little late today but...here we go!

1. Apparently there's some sort of conspiracy involving monkeys.

2. I'm suspicious of this sunny day. What does it want from me?

3. 2009 hasn't made any serious attempts to kill me so far.

4. For Y2K I hid under the blanket in the dark with a shotgun, but my home PC made one tiny burping noise and that was it.

5. For too long I've been locked in the darkness. Contemplating monkeys.

6. I am not obsessed with zombies; I am not! I think it's perfecting reasonable to assume that our government will soon lose control of an experimental drug that will convert 90% of the population into shambling, brain-eating corpses.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to staging a ninja style raid of several government agencies, tomorrow my plans include perusing the pictures I took and Sunday, I want to bust this monkey conspiracy thing wide open!

(Want more Friday Fill-Ins? Check it out)

Fuck you, Rent-a-Nerd: Funky Foto Flashback

I'm joining in Bex's Funky Foto Flashback meme again this week. It's the coolest new meme going - c'mon, share, you know you want to let us see you in all your corduroy and bowl-cut glory!

Back in high school, I had a pretty solid group of friends, and most of them are STILL my friends so that just speaks to how very tolerant they all are. I mean, for my 17th birthday they all pooled their cigarette money and hired an entertainer, a "Rent-a-Nerd", to arrive at a restaurant at a designated time and embarrass the shit out of me celebrate my birthday. And look how appreciative I was:

I was so truly touched that for FoN's stagette, I remembered their act of kindness and rented her a Kissing Bandit to embarass the shit out of her to make her feel pretty and loved:




He showed up early so the bar was deserted and she didn't get quite the attention I'd hoped. Dammit.

(I also made her that atrocious hat in an attempt to embarass the shit out of her garner her some attention, too. You can't see in the picture but it has a little plastic bride & groom on the front, obnoxious flowers, and "I'm the Bride" written all over it. Turns out, back in the day, it was actually pretty cool and she had people wanting to wear it. DAMMIT).

Conversations with Nana Mouskouri*

These past few days I've been inspired to blog conversations I've recently had with Paul. For the most part I've resisted, lest there be blood and fire and locusts. (In other words, he might be kind of annoyed if I start telling the internets).

But then I realized, holy shit. I've been having conversations. With my husband. That hasn't happened in, oh...about 18 months. A period roughly the shape and size of our son.

You see, our kid isn't in daycare right now - Paul works nights and I work days, and we juggle the jailkeeper duties between the two of us. So I see him for about 5 minutes in the morning when his son punches him in the face to wake him up, and then for about 5 more minutes in the evening when we're all cramming food into our collective maw and Paul is trying to shit and shower and shave at the same time. Our conversations pretty much consist of, "Hehasn'tpooped-YourMomcalled-Henappedforanhour-Pleasetakeoutthetrash-Whatdoyoumeanthedoghasn'tbeenoutallday?"

But for the past week Paul's restaurant has been closed for renovations and he's been at home. So I took a long weekend and we just had happy family time.

(It took about 3 days to adjust to that).

(Which left us one whole day to enjoy it).

And I was all, Oh YEAH. I remember you. You make me laugh and think. You're actually pretty fun to be around. I guess there's a reason I got knocked up in the first place, hey?

And then I thought, um...we're trying to add ANOTHER time suck bundle of joy into the fray? Is that a good idea? I might not even recognize him by the time we emerge. He might be all warty and shrunken. And I might be...all warty and shrunken.

But the conversations that WE have, I want us to have as a family. I want to all sit around the dinner table, all of us, and get opinions and stories and facts from all quarters, and laugh and talk and be friends for at least that one hour. And then dad will burp loudly and mom will roll her eyes and the kids will giggle when he winks at them. And everybody will go off to their busy lives, homework or housework or blogging hobbies, knowing that they're part of a fabulous thing.

I know that this ideal exists, because I had it, growing up. I'm almost positive it's still achievable.

So the chaos will roll back in this week, our conversations will return to their abbreviated state and half of them will end up as texts. But eventually Xander will go to daycare and we might take another vacation, and we'll have at least TEN minutes a day to talk to each other. Maybe X will even contribute more than "Baaall!" and "Woof!".

And my kids can grow up with the ideal, too.


*Nana Mouskouri has nothing, nothing at all, to do with this post. I'm just dying of curiousity to see if anybody remembers she exists and is googling her. So, if that's how you got here, HI! I know nothing about Nana either. Sorry to entangle you in my little experiment. Feel free to go here.

At least my vacation was fruity-smelling: Random Tuesday Thoughts

It's Tuesday, ya'll! You know what that means - pick up the fugly purple button, write a post with no transitional paragraphs whatsoever, and then leave a link so we can all get a peek at snippets of your life. Ready? Go!

I must not be blogging about zombies enough, because I've had a couple of nightmares about them again lately. I had one the other night about living in a post-Zombie Apocalypse world, trapped inside a beautifully airy, modern architecture house but having to dash out for supplies and avoid the undead. I woke up in the grey early dawn light, heart racing, one hand hovering over Paul sleeping soundly beside me. Part of me wanted to wake him up to comfort me (because apparently I'm six years old) but most of me was afraid to do so in case he rolled over and TRIED TO EAT MY FACE.

A conversation I'm still snickering about, on the way home from the grandparents this evening:

"He's pretty tired. Does he need a bath, or do you think we can just get away without it?"

"He should be fine. It's not like he was playing in mud."

"Huh? Did you say 'it's not like he was playing in blood'??"

"No, MUD. Not blood. He's a little young to be starting a Fight Club."

(pause)

"Although if he did, he couldn't tell us about it."

I'm sure you all have heard the phrase, "Part of this nutritious breakfast", right? When I was a kid I tried to use that to convince my Mom to buy me something like Count Chocula (we were pretty much only allowed our choice of Cheerios or Shreddies. Sometimes, if she was feeling frisky, Honey Nut Cheerios).

She then made a point of explaining to me that "part of this nutritious breakfast" does not equate "the nutritious part of this breakfast". It's all in the italics. You could serve up a bowl of broken glass and rusty bolts beside that toast and OJ and it would still be part of the nutritious breakfast, but it's not going to offer you much itself.

Well, maybe some roughage.

Anyway she taught me to listen for the omissions and the subtexts in advertising. So I thought of her this week when I saw an ad for Fruit Loops on TV, touting the Fruit Loops themselves as "the fruity-smelling part of this complete breakfast".

No kidding? I wasn't aware that my breakfast required part of it to be FRUITY SMELLING. I mean - I could put some Mr. Sketch smelly markers in there to meet THAT condition, but it wouldn't get me much else.

Well, maybe some roughage.

A haiku:

Vacation! Too short
Accomplished little, much like
haiku poetry

Dentists must be really good at charades, huh? I had a filling done this week and while I'm benumbed, have 4 different metal implements in my mouth and what is essentially a blue condom over my face he muses, "I don't know why you have a cavity there. You have good oral hygiene, there's no reason for you to get a cavity there."

I made a gesture with both hands in front of my stomach.

"No," he answers, "Pregnancy would have nothing to do with it."

I shrugged and pointed at the implement he was using, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," he said, "What is that? It's a liquid filling, because the cavity is at the bottom of the tooth and we want to make sure we get a good seal."

Amazing, huh? I mean, what I was actually saying was "You fat bastard" and "Get away from me with that fucking thing before I shove it up your ass", but he was REALLY CLOSE.

So you know what to do - get randomizing! And make sure to visit Kelly at Baby Boogers to leave your link with her, too! Happy Tuesday!

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The bacon probably isn't helping either

I promised I would 'fess up if I fell off the HASAY wagon, even though I decided to focus on being healthy rather than on pounds lost. So I kind of half fell off. Like, one leg dangling.

Easter kind of screwed me in the food front - quite a few cupcakes with butter cream icing and a chocolate bunny or two. But I was still working out, so I figured I'd be okay with a week of bad eating right?

I GAINED FOUR FUCKING POUNDS. In a week. That is not even remotely fair. Ya'll know how long it took me to lose four pounds - is it even physically possible that I got them back in 7 days?

Apparently it is, because they've stayed there all this week. I've tried to be good (hubby is off work which always messes with the healthy eating a little) and I've been working out like a maniac.

("Maybe you're pregnant already!" said FoN.

Yes. I'm 3 days pregnant, and I've gained 4 pounds. I'm really ahead of the curve, here.)

It's kind of frustrating to realize that despite the healthy role models I had growing up, the thousands of tasteless healthy meals and the many times my mother shoved us outdoors to play, the pattern that I'm going to end up following is the other one she showed me: my mother seemed to be chronically on a diet, continually trying to lose that last ten pounds. Constantly at war with food, even when - by all appearances - she was winning.

Anyway, I'm going to keep focusing on my workouts, because if I do manage to get pregnant I do NOT want to be as unhealthy as I was the first time around. That sucked. I want to be ready to run that marathon, ya'll.

Maybe the food thing will just fall into place, right?

Right? Guys?

Drunken superheros need tofu love too: Friday Fill-Ins

And...here we go!

1. Join me in a toast. Oh, whoops, I started without you. Several hours ago. The bottle seems to be empty.

2. Put a little spandex in your day! Or at least a fanny pack. C'mon, you know you want to.

3. Happiness is some warm tofu. No, not to eat. I like to sit in it.*

4. I woke up pierced, tattooed, and confused.

5. I'm waiting for some kind of revelation as to what I should be when I grow up. What's that? A superhero? Okay, if you insist.

6.Tofu is hard to resist. Sitting in.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to sewing my superhero outfit, tomorrow my plans include wandering around downtown looking for crime to fight and Sunday, I want to explain to my therapist why "The Tofu Avenger" sounded like a good idea at the time!


*You know, I keep waiting for an email from the creator of Friday Fill-Ins, Janet, asking me if I wouldn't mine please NOT PARTICIPATING. But it hasn't happened yet. I should probably check my spam box, I bet it's in there.

Spin Cycle: Celebrity

The topic over at Jen's Spin Cycle this week is "Celebrity". I wish I had some fantastic story of fondling Simon Cowell's abs or telling George Clooney to fuck off, but I've come to believe that I possess an anti-celebrity aura.

I mean, I spent years living in Vancouver, "North Hollywood", during a time when they were constantly filming all kinds of exciting things like the X-Files and Jumanji. And the whole time I was working in theatre, no, living and breathing theatre, and drinking associating with theatre and film type people. And not once - ever - did I meet someone that I could casually say, "Oh, I met so-and-so", and you'd know who the hell I was talking about.

One time, I elected to not attend an opening night party (probably for some really sensible reason like "It's all the way downtown and the beer here is cheap and plentiful") and I discovered later that David Duchovny had showed up at said party and hobnobbed.*

I think I died a little that day.

I mean, I did drink a lot in those days so it's entirely possible I met a celebrity and don't remember. (It's also entirely possible that my behaviour resulted in a memo to all the other celebrities, which is why I now possess this anti-celebrity aura).

The closest I got to a real life star was going on two dates with a guy that had a bit part in the X-Files, as a lab nerd that was in love with Scully. He got shot.

In the show, I mean. I didn't SHOOT him. He just wasn't that attractive.

Also, he was short.

So I guess the moral of the story is, it's true - celebrities ARE shorter and less attractive in person!


*I don't even know what 'hobnobbed' means, but it sounds kinky. Fuck, I could have had hot kinky sex with David Duchovny. I think I just died a little more.

Maybe if she got a job or cleaned up once in a while, y'know?

This afternoon someone walked their medium-sized punt dog past our house and our dog, as per usual, lost her shit. She leapt up on the ottoman that sits under the living room window like she was some kind of hound from hell and barked her fierce bark mindlessly. The window shook. There were hackles.

I try not to yell at her when she does this but it was the end of the day and my patience was wearing thin. So I grabbed her nose in the "mother correction" and glared at her sternly, my "there must be silence" finger pointed skyward.

And she growled at me. SHE GROWLED AT ME.

So I growled right the fuck back.

We're cool now, but still. That was probably one of the 3 times EVER my dog has growled at, or around, me. It worries me. I have a rather short person living in my house who is unconcerned with teeth or growling, who thinks it's freaking hilarious to poke the resident canine in the eye and tease her mercilessly with carrot sticks. (I keep telling him that he's going to lose a finger doing that, but I'm not sure he gets it).

I get it. I get that the poor dog is ignored and underexercised, and there's probably some spring fever mixed in there. I think I'd be doing a lot more than growling if someone only let ME out of the house twice a day to piss, and yelled at me every time I tried to eat something.

(Maybe I should get someone to do that. It might help the diet).

I get it that mostly, this is my fault, but still. The growling is not cool. There were many things about our dog that I took issue with BEFORE we had a kid, and pretty much the instant I gave birth the dog fell to the bottom of the priority list. I feel guilty every goddamn day for that, but there it is.

Next time, I'm getting a fucking basset hound.

Or an iguana.

Bunnies, more spiders, and huge bazongas: Random Tuesday Thoughts

It's Tuesday again! I'm starting to think that all my blogging genius goes into Tuesdays. There's like, this huge spike in my Google Analytics chart once a week. Then the rest of the week people are all, "Oh, well...I guess I could stop by...but she's not as funny on WEDNESDAYS".

That's okay. I'll take that.

So - let's begin! If you're new here (yay!), it's pretty simple - grab the button, write your rather random post, and then leave your link with Mr. Linky so we can all visit.

So after my post yesterday (the one where I basically told the whole interwubs that I was planning to have tons of rabid bunny sex), I immediately felt better. And then you people started commenting, and some people sent me emails, and I felt AWESOME. Seriously, why did I wait so long to start blogging? I could have written many, many more "woe is me" posts.

Also, FoN called me to check that I wasn't wallowing in my sorrows too badly (which I wasn't - it was only about mid-shin deep wallowing), and offered me one of HER kids if things don't work out, because she's pretty much the best friend ever.

Although, she's been trying to pawn one off on me for years now, but still. My statement stands.

I didn't post a HASAY update yesterday because I was busy wallowing. But there isn't much to report. I've had a really, really hard time convincing myself to work out, but I've been doing it anyway. Which is good, because "you should probably devour that Lindt chocolate bunny and then have waffles and bacon" has NOT been that hard to sell. The bunny (and possibly a few friends) haven't shown up on the scale yet, but I think they're conspiring with the glazed croissant from today and are going to attack like a fucking ninja.

On a related note, I was working out earlier with Maya the Wii Fitness Trainer, and I really had to pee. There's nothing worse than doing a bunch of jumping jacks when you're threatening to leak all over the basement carpet. So when Maya called a "water break" (which, now that I think about it, I've never seen that pixeled hussy drink any H20 herself. Man, she's a terrible trainer), I dashed to the downstairs toilet.

Now, the downstairs toilet is pretty much just that. A toilet. Downstairs. Oh, sure, it has some walls around it, and at SOME POINT it was probably considered a bathroom, but right now it's a gross, water-stained hole with a concrete floor, containing a rusty-looking porcelain seat. But whatever, I was in a hurry (if there's a way to pause Maya, I haven't figured it out yet). So I was doing my thing, and I reached for the roll of toilet paper.

Turns out, if you leave those unattended, sometimes spiders use them for a lair.

So I shrieked and jumped off my throne. Mid stream.

Good thing that bathroom is already gross hey?

I posted last week about how I was all into the virtual piracy, but I TOTALLY LIED. The very next day my usual gaming addiction, the superhero MMO City of Heroes, went live with its Issue 14. CoH is pretty awesome in that it regularly releases new content for subscribers and doesn't ask anything in return except your undying fealty and $15 a month. Anyway, the new Issue includes a "Mission Architect", where you can write your own story lines and other people can play them.

Are you kidding? I can write goofy awesome comic book stories and publish them for other people? It's kind of like blogging, but with spandex. And punching things.

So I've given up on the pirates. They have a bad rap these days anyway. Plus, in CoH I can make my characters' bazongas even BIGGER.

The restaurant that Paul manages is closed for two weeks while renovating. He gets one of those weeks off, but the rest of the time his schedule is totally messed up. Normally he works nights, but suddenly he's working days. So we had to call in the troops (his parents), who drove 2-1/2 hours to hang out with their grandson all day today. Turns out, we didn't need them today, but thanks to an informative text message at 8PM TONIGHT we could have used them TOMORROW. Fuuuuucccckkk.

Which brings me to a regular rant of mine, that I have entitled "OMG ya'll am I the first person to notice that juggling child care SUCKS?".

I mean, REALLY. We have it good here in Canada - we get a year for maternity leave, and the government pays us 55% of our previous wage during that time. Except, most daycares don't take children until they're 18 months old. So everybody - EVERYBODY - has to fucking fake it somehow for 6 months. And like 6 years ago, mat leave was only 6 months, which brings your time spent "faking it" up to a year. There are no supports in place to cover this - everybody just has to work part-time, or find a (elusive) sitter, or not go back to work and then find a whole new job in 6 months, or ask their mother, or SOMETHING. It's fucking ridiculous.

And what the hell do you Americans do? What do you get - 12 weeks, if you're super lucky?

Anyway. That has nothing to do with the fact that my husbands employers can't get their poop in a group, but it sent my brain in that direction.

What directions is YOUR brain going in this week? Let us know - grab zee button, slap it up there, and randomize! Happy Tuesday!

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Probably the one and only post where I talk about my uterus. You've been warned.

I've been a little distracted lately, not really blogging angst but I'm having a hard time coming up with things to post. Mostly because I'm thinking about just this ONE thing.

I've had some issues with the, uh, plumbing for a few months. Things are not, shall we say, regular.

Oh, fuck it. I haven't had a period since January. There.

(Apologies to my two male readers. Hi Captain! Hi Cameron! You're allowed to go watch the game now, have a beer and ignore the rest of this post. Although, you're both parents so you must have SOME idea of how this works).

I've also had some weird hot flashes and various other goings-on, so at my physical this week I mentioned all this to my doctor. And she decided to test me for a) premature menopause and b) polycystic ovarian syndrome.

Yeah. Sounds fun, right? Both of those present problems, should I ever want to provide my son with a sibling.

I said, "Um," and my doctor said (in an annoyingly cheerful, I'm-done-having-all-my-children kind of way) "Good thing you guys are done, right? Aren't you done?"

And in that instant, months of waffling and humming and gawd-do-I-never-want-to-be-pregnant-again turned into OMG I TOTALLY WANT ANOTHER BABY YOU CAN'T TELL ME I CAN'T XANDER NEEDS A LITTLE BROTHER WAAAAAHHHH!!

I managed to not say that though. I said, weakly, "Um, we weren't sure." But I sure as hell am now.

I cried in the car and then went home and hugged the son I'm lucky enough to have already fiercely, and then I presented my case to Paul. He's been spending the same months voicing vague arguments such as, "Can we afford another one?", and "Ah...hm. I don't know. We just started getting some sleep."

I cried on his shoulder about my potential barrenness, and sudden and overwhelming urge to have another baby and he said, "Sure, let's have another one."

"Really? But you never seem like you think it's a good idea."

"I've been talking myself into it for a few months," he replied. "You're just never there for the conversations."

Hm. Well, then. Whatever the testing verdict comes back as, I guess we're giving this a shot. So to speak.

Happy Good Friday Fill-ins!

And...here we go!

1. Anonymous...the ultimate cover name for internet asshattery.

2. "Asshattery" is a WORD, Blogger. Stop underlining it like it's not.

3. Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, I think you might taste like Jolly Ranchers.

4.Remembering what concrete looks like is what I look forward to most about Spring.

5. Who needs therapy when you've got wine?

6. Those two bottles of shiraz MUST go into the Easter Basket! (What? It's my Easter Basket to myself. You don't do that?)

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to making more Easter baskets, tomorrow my plans include "coloring" some eggs (it's a euphemism, figure it out) and Sunday, I want to gorge on half-price chocolate!

Fashion has failed me

I'm posting this Funky Foto Flashback a little late because I'm lazy like that, but I just had to share. I went shopping today (don't tell my boss) and, while I've been a little disturbed by all the 'retro' and '80s inspired' crap they've been marketing lately, I haven't reeeaaally paid a lot of attention. But then I saw the scarves. And the colored jeans. And the BOOTS, oh dear gawd the boots.

And I thought: Hm. I've seen this, before, somewhere.

Oh, right. I think it was called 1987.

It didn't look good on me THEN, ya'll.

(Also, Fashion, please explain THIS to me. Really. WHAT THE FUCK.)



(Do you just take really teeny tiny steps, or what? Is it so you can discreetly crap your pants and still continue your harem duties?)

I've been kidnapped by pirates

Okay, not really. That was a really dorky intro. To tell you I'm not here right now, I'm off pillaging and plundering and swashing my buckle.

Flying Labs is giving away 14-day trials to their pirate MMORPG, Pirates of the Burning Sea. It's got pretty graphics and swords and boats, er, ships you can sail. So I'll be...preoccupied.

Unless you'd care to join me? Tempest Mexia, here, is currently stabbing and shooting, pillaging and plundering, and trying not to steer her boat, er, ship into anything rocky, all on Antigua server.

Yaar!

I have the Discovery Channel now, and it's terrifying: Random Tuesday Thoughts

It's that time again, kids! And it almost snuck up on me AGAIN. One of these weeks I'm going to be blithely looking through my reader, thinking, "Why does everybody have these old RTT posts up?", and then going, oooohhhhhhhhh.

(I'm thinking that will be some time in June. Does that work for you guys?)

Let us begin!

This morning I thought I should start my week out right by scaring the crap out of someone, so I sent this link to Steenky Bee. You know how everyone keeps sending me zombie stuff? Yeah, that's what I did there. If you're afraid of the impending robot attack too, I wouldn't click on it. It's like HAL and that girl from The Ring got together and had a kid. And then stuffed it into a Chuckie doll.

Anyway, she retaliated by telling me about how the Japanese (Honda, to be specific) have invented a device that you attach to your head and it reads your thoughts. And then bosses a human-shaped robot into doing what you thought about. So you can like, close the trunk of your car with YOUR MIND.

Is this really necessary?

I mean, how long until someone (*cough*therobot*cough*) hacks the technology and uses it to control your mind?

...I'm sorry, I had something else important to say, but I have this overwhelming urge to go and buy a Civic.

I wonder what ever happened to that atom smasher they built under Switzerland? You know, the one they were trying to use to recreate the Big Bang that had the potential to suck us all into a black hole instead? A bunch of nuclear physicists stated their concerns and then we never heard any more about it. I mean, I think we'd notice if we were suddenly BAMF'D into an alternate dimension.

Or maybe not. Maybe there are some alien beings in our old galaxy wondering, "Hey, what happened to that nice little blue planet? You know, the one full of apes with cell phones?".

Chocolate you huff. Can it be that good?

They should invent alcohol you huff, too.

Oh, wait...Lysol.

Why aren't the inventors of huffable chocolate, mind control devices, and Snuggies all working on a cure for cancer?

Do they not have the space? I'm planning to clean out my garage, they can come here. Seriously. I have wine, and some Oreos.

That bag I posted about yesterday? It was this one. I was sad I didn't win it, too, but uh - I'm pretty sure it's not very "me". Or something. If I chant that long enough I could almost believe it.

Oh well, next fashion show.

(I love how the site suggests I pair it with a $300 wedge sandal and a $1600 satchel. Oooh, yes, why don't I pick up TWO? You know, for emergencies).

And this week there is no segue. How random. So! You know what to do! Or, if you're new here, in brief: grab the button. Put it on your random-style post. Leave your deets with Mr. Linky. And then visit some of your fellow bloggers for a peek inside their brain!

Um, well their thoughts. Not their brain. That might be icky.

And always, don't forget to go visit co-host Kelly at Baby Boogers and leave your link too! Happy Tuesday!

<a href="http://www.theunmom.com"><img src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" alt="randomtuesday" /></a>

Some thoughts on a fashion show

A local boutique clothing store, coincidentally the one that my friend Fashionista runs, held a fashion show recently to benefit summer school programs for autistic children. I'd never been to a fashion show, and it was a good cause, and oooh! fabulous clothes! ...so I went. Aren't you wondering what I thought?

Well, too bad and shut up.


1. It doesn't matter how dressed up you are, at a fashion show you're underdressed. I should have just cut my losses and worn sweatpants. I could have eaten more of those little cupcakes they're serving.

2. OMG, I love that bag.

3. OMG, that bag is SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS.

4. OMG! They're raffling it off! Buy buy buy!

5. Yeah, serving wine was probably a sound business decision here.

6. Okay, I know that I actually KNOW those people in real life, but they're skinny and beautiful and wearing fabulous clothes so I HATE THEM.

7. If that shirt weren't being worn by someone tall and blonde and gorgeous (WHO I HATE), she would look like Mrs. Roper.

8. Why does men's fashion usually consist mostly of things actual men won't wear?

9. Oh, right. That's the case with women too.

10. Sitting here heckling the models with a group of friends is so high school. I LOVE IT.

11. Okay, I want that.

12. That too.

13. That is HOW MUCH? BwahhahhahhahHAHHAHAH!!! Okay, never mind. I could make several mortgage payments instead.

14. Oooh, more cupcakes!

15. Okay, I didn't win the bag. I can go home now.

16. After one more cupcake. Nom.

Even though compliments make me itchy

This is where I would normally post a HASAY update, except last week I renounced my weight loss goal and decided to just focus on being fit and healthy.

This was also the week that I got the most comments & compliments regarding my appearance EVER.

Coincidence? I think not.



(While basking in the lavish praise, I managed to squeeze in two trips to the gym, two workouts with Maya, and a game of squash. So I'm keeping up with the plan.)

I'm classy like that: Friday Fill-Ins

And...here we go!

1. Angel or not, I will smite you where you stand! Oh, wait. That says 'angel or NOT'. I thought it said 'Angel of GOD'. Alright, never mind with the smiting then.

2.You can prepare me any way you want me. After you've killed me and stuffed me in your freezer to eat later. Which, y'know, good luck with that, because I can scream really loud and SOMEBODY is bound to notice. Also I still haven't lost enough weight to fit in a conventional freezer.

3. As my mother used to say, you're full of date pits and camel shit. *

4. I like to spit after I'm done working out or doing something strenuous. It's not really attractive after having sex.

5. Even in the most crowded of rooms silence will fall just as you announce that you're scheduled for a colonoscopy.

6. Mother's Day is a day fraught with peril. Now that I have a mother-in-LAW.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to offending co-workers, tomorrow my plans include some socially awkward moments and Sunday, I want to schedule that colonoscopy!


* Actually, what she used to say was just "you're full of shit". But she DID announce, "We're off! In a cloud of date pits and camel shit!" at the beginning of each family trip. She also used to say, "We're off like a herd of turtles". She's whacky like that.

Zombie Roundup

I'm having a busy week and I don't really have my poop in a group to pull together a REAL post, so I thought I would share with you the things that people share with me.

That's right, the zombie things. That people send me. Because obviously they all really hate me.

For instance, did you know there is an entire organization dedicated to zombie preparedness? That's right, I'm not the ONLY whack job out there. Other people think dead things are coming to get them, too, and they're even going so far as to put together task forces. With tanks. And face shields, for the ones that like to nibble.

Peggy knows I like to read, I mean who could miss my rave review of World War Z? So she sent me this link to Pride and Prejudice (and zombies). Didn't think Jane Austen did zombies? Oh yeah, you were wrong. So very wrong. I think I'd seen that before but this time I actually read a few pages and...d'oh. I may have to buy it.

I'll be sending Peggy a bill for the therapy required after that.

Robin at Cinnamon & Honey figures me for a stiletto girl, so she sent me a link to these: Zombie high heels. Possibly she also thinks I'm a drag queen?

A while back Erin, the Head Bag Lady at Durtbagz, sent me a link to her new 'zombie crossing' t-shirts. Because obviously, zombies have the right of way. Unless you're driving the tank. Then I think you win.

And, just in case you thought this was all getting too silly, here are 5 Scientific Reasons a Zombie Apocalypse Could Actually Happen. Because that kind of information is EXACTLY what someone with my fear and rabid imagination needs.

You're welcome.