"ADAM!!!"
"WHAT!"
"It isn't nice of you to destroy the bathroom when I have to pee! Now you need to hurry up so I can go at the grocery store!"
"Well, I didn't know you had to pee."
"I'm pregnant. YOU SHOULD JUST ASSUME."
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
BETTER THAN EVER (EXCEPT NOT REALLY)
I bet you're all pretty sick and tired of hearing about how sick and tired I've been feeling as of late, which is fine really because I'm pretty damn sick and tired of it myself. So, because I'm making an effort to be a better person - stronger, stoic, selfless - I'm not going to bitch and whine and moan (like I used to do, dear interwebs, you know, back before I was a better person) about the nauseous feeling that STILL, almost 14 weeks into this gig, seems to strike in the evening for no good reason that I can discern and leaves me writhing and moaning and, occasionally, crying and snotting my brains out because, for serious kid, I do not want to vomit again, do not make my vomit again, so help me God if you make me vomit again. And then the little bastard up and makes me vomit again and tosses in a headache and dehydration for good measure causing me to make idol threats about trading my wet, soggy pillow for Adam's clean, dry one and WHO THE HELL WOULD EVER DO THIS A SECOND TIME and you may never touch me again. And perhaps I cry a little more because damnit, I want to cry and it makes me feel better even while I still kinda feel badly about putting Adam through my irrational, frustrating tirade because of course he can't take over this burden for me and I'm being a huge, stupid sissy and oh my God woman. Just suck it up already. Pull yourself together before his patience runs out and you drive him insane with your brand of crazy and he leaves you alone with a baby to be with some video game character...
But I'm a better person now, so I won't mention all that.
But I'm a better person now, so I won't mention all that.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
PHOTOS TO FOLLOW
After much consideration and careful debate (and because we just happened upon that particular end cap at Target), Adam and I decided that since Guinness is our oldest and original "kid" and we don't have much time left with him as the one and only, we would do something special for him. Something that would create memories for years to come. Something that will involve pictures. And humiliation. And probably a lot of emotional scarring.
We're going to dress him up for Halloween.
And note when I say "we decided", what I really mean that I decided. And when I give you those flamboyant and silly excuses, I really mean I'm doing it because I'm mean. Very, very mean.
I'm not ashamed to admit that it was quite the long and drawn out process to pick out exactly which of the many, many costumes best represented the holy terror that is my dog, because, see, I wanted to dress him up like a skunk. But they didn't have his size. So then it became a debate between the hotdog, the pirate, or the chicken.
The hotdog was deemed inappropriate, not because he's not a wiener, but because it would be too easy for him to remove, thus ending our hilarity far too soon. The pirate outfit was then nixed because it was made of sub-par materials and didn't have a hat. (Guinness hates hats. This will be important later.) So, dear interwebs, we were left with the only logical choice. A chicken.
Now, I wasn't going to make any attempt to put him in said outfit until Halloween day when we would be handing out candy to the few ambitious trick-or-treaters that even bother to canvas Adam's neighborhood, but after work today Adam and I were both feeling a bit naughty and we decided to make Guinness try on the hat.
In case you missed it before, Guinness does not like hats. Or clothing at all for that matter.
I held him upright while Adam struggled to shove his ears through the tiny holes, his black body writhing about, teeth flaring idle threats, tossing his head.
Hehe. Halloween is gonna be awesome.
We're going to dress him up for Halloween.
And note when I say "we decided", what I really mean that I decided. And when I give you those flamboyant and silly excuses, I really mean I'm doing it because I'm mean. Very, very mean.
I'm not ashamed to admit that it was quite the long and drawn out process to pick out exactly which of the many, many costumes best represented the holy terror that is my dog, because, see, I wanted to dress him up like a skunk. But they didn't have his size. So then it became a debate between the hotdog, the pirate, or the chicken.
The hotdog was deemed inappropriate, not because he's not a wiener, but because it would be too easy for him to remove, thus ending our hilarity far too soon. The pirate outfit was then nixed because it was made of sub-par materials and didn't have a hat. (Guinness hates hats. This will be important later.) So, dear interwebs, we were left with the only logical choice. A chicken.
Now, I wasn't going to make any attempt to put him in said outfit until Halloween day when we would be handing out candy to the few ambitious trick-or-treaters that even bother to canvas Adam's neighborhood, but after work today Adam and I were both feeling a bit naughty and we decided to make Guinness try on the hat.
In case you missed it before, Guinness does not like hats. Or clothing at all for that matter.
I held him upright while Adam struggled to shove his ears through the tiny holes, his black body writhing about, teeth flaring idle threats, tossing his head.
Hehe. Halloween is gonna be awesome.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
MOVING TO THE SOUTHER, WEST-ISH SIDE
This weekend began the long and arduous process of Adam and I moving in together. (Like real adults! Because being pregnant with his child just wasn't quite adult enough.) A process that began the delicate packing up and shifting of my life, and the savage culling of his. (I say culling because, let's be honest, my decor is far superior. (I kid! Kinda!) Also, Mr. Pack Rat doesn't throw ANYTHING away.)
Now, to be fair, at this point it really is a balancing act to fit everything, not so much because we both have that much stuff. No, the space issue is really only an issue because Adam's roommate is not moving out immediately. In fact, he may be living with us for quite a while.
This means, that room we're planning on storing my (not so superior) bed and turning into a guest room? Shawn's room. And the media room we want to create so Adam can have all his major electronics and MILLIONS of gaming systems all in one handy dandy location, as well as making room for my couch and leather recliner? Shawn's other room. And the dining room where my awesome espresso colored table would fit PERFECTLY?! So sorry. It doesn't fit with Shawn's country bumpkin table already in there. Oh! And how about the baby's room where our precious, darling lemon will lay his (or her) little head? Storage for my junk in the interim (and by "junk", I of course mean "superior decor." Also, clothes.) OH THE TRAGEDY.
I know we'll make it work and I know it will be an adjustment, I just really hope we don't end up with all of Shawn's shit after I go bezerk from all the clutter and end up burying him behind the garage. The same garage we would then end up having a garage sale out of. FYI.
PS - Anyone in need of a lovely matching sofa/love seat combo in a lush and beautiful sage? $250. You remove the dog hair.
Now, to be fair, at this point it really is a balancing act to fit everything, not so much because we both have that much stuff. No, the space issue is really only an issue because Adam's roommate is not moving out immediately. In fact, he may be living with us for quite a while.
This means, that room we're planning on storing my (not so superior) bed and turning into a guest room? Shawn's room. And the media room we want to create so Adam can have all his major electronics and MILLIONS of gaming systems all in one handy dandy location, as well as making room for my couch and leather recliner? Shawn's other room. And the dining room where my awesome espresso colored table would fit PERFECTLY?! So sorry. It doesn't fit with Shawn's country bumpkin table already in there. Oh! And how about the baby's room where our precious, darling lemon will lay his (or her) little head? Storage for my junk in the interim (and by "junk", I of course mean "superior decor." Also, clothes.) OH THE TRAGEDY.
I know we'll make it work and I know it will be an adjustment, I just really hope we don't end up with all of Shawn's shit after I go bezerk from all the clutter and end up burying him behind the garage. The same garage we would then end up having a garage sale out of. FYI.
PS - Anyone in need of a lovely matching sofa/love seat combo in a lush and beautiful sage? $250. You remove the dog hair.
Monday, October 13, 2008
RELAXING
Sunday afternoon, in a rare instance of calm (unless he's being physically retrained--so not even kidding about that one), Guinness was curled up with me on the baby's future rocking chair/recliner, his fuzzy body pressed against the length of my leg, his head resting on my thigh, all while not making any attempts to bite my hands as I scratched his ears. The sight was so unusual, in fact, that I quickly alerted Adam.
"Lookit! My dog is behaving."
Adam turned from his computer (where he was playing World of Warcraft... our child has NO CHANCE of ever being cool) to gaze at the splendor of a not spazzy Guinness before reaching for his camera.
He lifted it to his face, lined up the shot, and stopped.
"I can't take your picture."
"Why the hell not?"
"You don't have any pants on."
"... Ah."
"Lookit! My dog is behaving."
Adam turned from his computer (where he was playing World of Warcraft... our child has NO CHANCE of ever being cool) to gaze at the splendor of a not spazzy Guinness before reaching for his camera.
He lifted it to his face, lined up the shot, and stopped.
"I can't take your picture."
"Why the hell not?"
"You don't have any pants on."
"... Ah."
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
WHEREIN I LOSE MY SHIT
So this morning, rather than do work (because work is for sissies), I spent a good 10-20 minutes talking with coworkers about Lemon Baby and in the course of said conversation I poked my belly and, dear interwebs, that shit is getting hard, like genuinely pregnant hard and THAT means that I really do have a thing inside my belly.
OH MY EFFING GOD, THERE IS A THING INSIDE MY BELLY!
::Lip quiver::
::Whimper::
And then I promptly lost my shit and may or may not have been on the verge of having my own tiny, precious panic attack because I don't know if you heard me, dear interwebs, BUT THERE IS A T-H-I-N-G (a living, eventually breathing thing) INSIDE MAH BELLY!!!!!!!
Must. Find. Paper. Bag.
OH MY EFFING GOD, THERE IS A THING INSIDE MY BELLY!
::Lip quiver::
::Whimper::
And then I promptly lost my shit and may or may not have been on the verge of having my own tiny, precious panic attack because I don't know if you heard me, dear interwebs, BUT THERE IS A T-H-I-N-G (a living, eventually breathing thing) INSIDE MAH BELLY!!!!!!!
Must. Find. Paper. Bag.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
BABY NOTES, PART 1
Dear Lemon Baby (so called because, according to this, you are now about the size of a lemon, which, I know. It's substantial. In fact, I believe the proper response would be that you're freaking enormous):
Anyway. Dear Lemon Baby. Hi. This would be your incubator talking and speaking of enormous, you and I? We have several things I think we need to be discussing. First and foremost, you're about 3 months old now, give or take a few days, and due in large part to wonky pregnancy math, which had me pregnant 2 to 3 WHOLE WEEKS before The Deed, you know, was actually did. That's right. According to the crazy ass doctors and nurses, I was actually pregnant BEFORE I got pregnant. WTF, right? (Also, Kid Thing, with regards to The Deed, just remember that, until you're old enough to support your own damn self, the opposite sex is yucky AND, when you ignore that advise, you be sure that you/she is taking the pill AND using a condom. I'm just sayin'. It never hurts to double up.)
Anyway, the point I'm really trying to get at is that I was under the impression, and not unjustifiably, that the nausea and the vomiting and the general, all-around misery that is the first trimester would, you know, be OVER by the beginning of the second trimester, that magical, delightful, mystical 3 month mark I've heard oh, so much about. You know, WHERE WE ARE NOW.
You, dear child, must have failed to receive THAT particular memo.
It would also seem, according to the rather violent goings on of last night, that you are ADAMANTLY opposed to cheetos. THAT WAS UNFORTUNATE FOR ME.
And another thing. While I have yet to gain any weight, due in large part, I'm sure, to all the dinner time vomiting (and not that I'm seriously complaining about no weight gain. HELLZ no. In fact, if we could continue to keep that little symptom to a minimum (while still maintaining a healthy baby weight) I might just make you my favorite kid so far), I do already have two, TWO new, tiny, red stretch marks around my belly button. What the hell?! Now, I realize you're just utilizing my incubator status to it's fullest and to do that you must move you and your people sack higher into my abdomen to make some room (all while displacing my lungs and stomach), but, but, but! Stretch marks?! I've already gotten to the point where only TWO of my non-pregnancy pants fit and even those are a little tight! (Which is why I'm sitting here typing this without any pants on. I am so sexy.) I'm not understanding why you really need to be adding insult to injury here. AND!! Chipotle?! You had to take away Chipotle? Other than chips and guac, any thoughts and daydreams of rice-stuffed burritos is met with stomach churning resistance AND YOUR FATHER IS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.
WHY? WHY DO YOU HATE YOUR MAMA?! Seriously. You damn well better show me a SINGLE, solitary, healthy, strong heartbeat on Thursday to make up for all this shit or, so help me god, I will never let you have candy EVER!
Hugs & Kisses,
The Incubator
Anyway. Dear Lemon Baby. Hi. This would be your incubator talking and speaking of enormous, you and I? We have several things I think we need to be discussing. First and foremost, you're about 3 months old now, give or take a few days, and due in large part to wonky pregnancy math, which had me pregnant 2 to 3 WHOLE WEEKS before The Deed, you know, was actually did. That's right. According to the crazy ass doctors and nurses, I was actually pregnant BEFORE I got pregnant. WTF, right? (Also, Kid Thing, with regards to The Deed, just remember that, until you're old enough to support your own damn self, the opposite sex is yucky AND, when you ignore that advise, you be sure that you/she is taking the pill AND using a condom. I'm just sayin'. It never hurts to double up.)
Anyway, the point I'm really trying to get at is that I was under the impression, and not unjustifiably, that the nausea and the vomiting and the general, all-around misery that is the first trimester would, you know, be OVER by the beginning of the second trimester, that magical, delightful, mystical 3 month mark I've heard oh, so much about. You know, WHERE WE ARE NOW.
You, dear child, must have failed to receive THAT particular memo.
It would also seem, according to the rather violent goings on of last night, that you are ADAMANTLY opposed to cheetos. THAT WAS UNFORTUNATE FOR ME.
And another thing. While I have yet to gain any weight, due in large part, I'm sure, to all the dinner time vomiting (and not that I'm seriously complaining about no weight gain. HELLZ no. In fact, if we could continue to keep that little symptom to a minimum (while still maintaining a healthy baby weight) I might just make you my favorite kid so far), I do already have two, TWO new, tiny, red stretch marks around my belly button. What the hell?! Now, I realize you're just utilizing my incubator status to it's fullest and to do that you must move you and your people sack higher into my abdomen to make some room (all while displacing my lungs and stomach), but, but, but! Stretch marks?! I've already gotten to the point where only TWO of my non-pregnancy pants fit and even those are a little tight! (Which is why I'm sitting here typing this without any pants on. I am so sexy.) I'm not understanding why you really need to be adding insult to injury here. AND!! Chipotle?! You had to take away Chipotle? Other than chips and guac, any thoughts and daydreams of rice-stuffed burritos is met with stomach churning resistance AND YOUR FATHER IS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.
WHY? WHY DO YOU HATE YOUR MAMA?! Seriously. You damn well better show me a SINGLE, solitary, healthy, strong heartbeat on Thursday to make up for all this shit or, so help me god, I will never let you have candy EVER!
Hugs & Kisses,
The Incubator
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
FREE SAMPLES
"So along with my shit ton of paper work and reading material I also got a bunch of maternity magazines. Oh! And look! With this one I even got a free sample."
"Um. What is that?"
"Disposable nursing pads."
"Why?"
"So that I don't go leaking all over everything."
"Oh. So it's a boobie diaper."
"... Yes."
"Um. What is that?"
"Disposable nursing pads."
"Why?"
"So that I don't go leaking all over everything."
"Oh. So it's a boobie diaper."
"... Yes."
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
ONLY IF HE VOMITS AS MUCH AS I HAVE
"That crock of shit birthing class is $200 per 'birthing team.' That's right. You and I are a 'birthing team.'"
"I'm team captain!"
"I'm team captain!"
Monday, September 29, 2008
BEING STUPID
A few nights ago, after a Saturday night spent with Adam's friends, we were laying in bed and I was just fuming about something that had happened earlier, AND through my hot, angry tears I demanded to know if Adam thought I was being stupid.
He reached over silently, put his arms around me, and hugged me to him. I tolerated this for a few moments before turning to him and wailing, "That isn't 'you're not being stupid!' That's 'I'll support you WHILE you're being stupid!'"
"You aren't being stupid," he said affectionately, "just emotional."
I glared. "Men think that's the SAME THING."
He reached over silently, put his arms around me, and hugged me to him. I tolerated this for a few moments before turning to him and wailing, "That isn't 'you're not being stupid!' That's 'I'll support you WHILE you're being stupid!'"
"You aren't being stupid," he said affectionately, "just emotional."
I glared. "Men think that's the SAME THING."
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
TRAVELING FAST
Over the weekend, Adam and I traveled north with the express purpose of sharing some news with his parents, news I had already shared with my parents a whole damn month ago.
We arrived around 10:30 on Friday night after four hours of driving and traffic and boredom and had barely made it through the front door when Adam, without much introduction, draped his arm across his mother's shoulders and announced the the real reason we made the trip was because we had news.
His mother seemed apprehensive as she asked what that news might possibly be.
He told them I'm pregnant. (SURPRISE! Yeah, to us too!)
And the very first words out of his mother's mouth: "Whose is it?"
. . .
Now, I laughed because it was funny and because I'm about 60% sure she was kidding and because the woman has been in shock ever since but really?
Adam, ever the quick witted jester, told her we were waiting for Maury to find out. Because we're classy like that.
And while his parents are still coping with the idea, mine could not be more thrilled. Hell, even my grandparents are excited. My grandma never called me a hussy, not even once. I think she might be saving that one for Thanksgiving.
We arrived around 10:30 on Friday night after four hours of driving and traffic and boredom and had barely made it through the front door when Adam, without much introduction, draped his arm across his mother's shoulders and announced the the real reason we made the trip was because we had news.
His mother seemed apprehensive as she asked what that news might possibly be.
He told them I'm pregnant. (SURPRISE! Yeah, to us too!)
And the very first words out of his mother's mouth: "Whose is it?"
. . .
Now, I laughed because it was funny and because I'm about 60% sure she was kidding and because the woman has been in shock ever since but really?
Adam, ever the quick witted jester, told her we were waiting for Maury to find out. Because we're classy like that.
And while his parents are still coping with the idea, mine could not be more thrilled. Hell, even my grandparents are excited. My grandma never called me a hussy, not even once. I think she might be saving that one for Thanksgiving.
Monday, September 15, 2008
THE ROMANCE ISN'T DEAD, IT JUST NEEDS A KICK IN THE ASS
"Hey, Adam?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember that charming thing you used to do?"
"What was that?"
"The dishes."
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember that charming thing you used to do?"
"What was that?"
"The dishes."
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
SPIKE
Last week while jogging, Adam found a small miniature dachshund wondering around who was much the worse for wear. We believe his owners abandoned him some time ago because not only can you count ALL of his ribs, but (we believe) he has an infected anal gland because his butt is puffy and swollen o the point he will not sit down (only lay) and his little teeth are rotting out of his head.
He is certainly a pathetic case.
BUT! He is eating soggy food like it's a feast fit for a king, and even had a pee war with Guinness Friday night. In the house. While we were asleep.
Charming little bastards.
But it was while this potential new family member (who the vet told us is named Spike)(he had a vet tag on him and we've been trying to call the old owners for 5+ days) was curled up napping on Adam's lap that I decided to further inspect his various maladies.
I lifted his tail to inspect his butt. It was swollen.
I poked his puffy, swollen butt. It was squishy.
I then poked a lump on his still attached boy parts. Adam was irate.
Ed Note: Yes, I realize just how demented we both are. IT'S LIKE WE WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER!! It's S-C-A-R-Y!
He is certainly a pathetic case.
BUT! He is eating soggy food like it's a feast fit for a king, and even had a pee war with Guinness Friday night. In the house. While we were asleep.
Charming little bastards.
But it was while this potential new family member (who the vet told us is named Spike)(he had a vet tag on him and we've been trying to call the old owners for 5+ days) was curled up napping on Adam's lap that I decided to further inspect his various maladies.
I lifted his tail to inspect his butt. It was swollen.
I poked his puffy, swollen butt. It was squishy.
I then poked a lump on his still attached boy parts. Adam was irate.
"YOU DO NOT POKE THE TESTICLES!"
"But! I wanted to see if it was squishy like his butt."
"You do. not. poke. the testicles."
"But he has a lump!"
"No. I don't care. You don't poke his testicles and you don't poke my testicles."
"Wha?! I.. but.. I have NEVER poked your testicles!"
"But you would if given the chance!"
"... I.. no..."
"..."
"ALRIGHT! You're probably right."
"Damn right I am, woman."
Ed Note: Yes, I realize just how demented we both are. IT'S LIKE WE WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER!! It's S-C-A-R-Y!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
GULLIBLE
I will be leaving for Guatemala in a week.
I am not prepared.
BUT I am attempted to prepare and that included running to Walgreens for the THIRD FREAKING TIME (because they hadn't processed the prescription I had dropped off two hours prior and I'm sorry ma'am can you wait 15 more minutes? I couldn't. I went home for a few more hours to stew.. and watch Hairspray.. and I owe Adam an apology and probably a kidney for THAT little monstrosity). Ahem. Anyway, we ran to Walgreens to pick up my malaria medication. I paid. Adam picked up several other things. He paid. With a card. And felt the need to peck at the touchpad without the use of the styllus.
I pointed out this error.
We continued walking across the parking lot and the conversation naturally turned to my impending leaving and said lack of preparations (except, you know, the one.)
I am not prepared.
BUT I am attempted to prepare and that included running to Walgreens for the THIRD FREAKING TIME (because they hadn't processed the prescription I had dropped off two hours prior and I'm sorry ma'am can you wait 15 more minutes? I couldn't. I went home for a few more hours to stew.. and watch Hairspray.. and I owe Adam an apology and probably a kidney for THAT little monstrosity). Ahem. Anyway, we ran to Walgreens to pick up my malaria medication. I paid. Adam picked up several other things. He paid. With a card. And felt the need to peck at the touchpad without the use of the styllus.
I pointed out this error.
"I don't need a styllus! I am a technological genius. I actually took a class in college on using a keypad without needing a styllus."
"You what? Really?"
"No! I can't believe you feel for that!"
We continued walking across the parking lot and the conversation naturally turned to my impending leaving and said lack of preparations (except, you know, the one.)
"You know, the bad thing about this malaria medication is it's a suppository."
"Oh my God. That's AWESOME! Is it really?"
"No. And by the way, you are a sick, sick bastard for being excited by that."
Friday, August 22, 2008
THWARTED (BUT I LOVE YOU MORE)
Adam, silly, crazy boy that he is, revealed to me last night that when I call him at work and end the phone conversation with an "I love you," he feels obligated to repeat it lest he deal with my wrath (DESPITE ME TELLING HIM A "YOU TOO" WOULD SUFFICE). This was unfortunate yesterday because a coworker overheard him and oh. The shit, it was copious (as well it should have been).
And because I am evil, this made me giggle.
Also because I'm evil and because I leave for lunch earlier than he does, I decided to call him as I was making my way to my car.
"Hello?"
"I was just calling to say I love you."
"Oh. Well in that case, I love you, too."
"You're not in the office, are you?"
"Nope!"
"DAMNIT!!!"
And because I am evil, this made me giggle.
Also because I'm evil and because I leave for lunch earlier than he does, I decided to call him as I was making my way to my car.
"Hello?"
"I was just calling to say I love you."
"Oh. Well in that case, I love you, too."
"You're not in the office, are you?"
"Nope!"
"DAMNIT!!!"
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
HERE I AM
Hi.
Look, I know i haven't written (or called or texted or IMd and I totally blew you off when I saw you in the grocery store the other day) but I've been busy! What with the stress! And the personal issues! And just a general lack of will to write or be entertaining and I AM NOT YOUR MONKEY!
But fret not, dear interwebs. We are back together again (for now), and my love for you grows stronger with each passing minute (now take off your pants). I won't soon leave your side again (except, you know, when I'm in a third world country and, let's be totally honest here, probably before that, too).
But I've come to a conclusion about you, dear interwebs, that you're sort of slutty and you'll get the attention you so desperately desire from anyone. Even from that guy over there if you've had a few, but your first choice (obviously) is me so I'll do what I can with my limited resources to be your everything, even if only for a little while (but if you give me the clap, so help me God, we're through).
XOXO,
The Management
Look, I know i haven't written (or called or texted or IMd and I totally blew you off when I saw you in the grocery store the other day) but I've been busy! What with the stress! And the personal issues! And just a general lack of will to write or be entertaining and I AM NOT YOUR MONKEY!
But fret not, dear interwebs. We are back together again (for now), and my love for you grows stronger with each passing minute (now take off your pants). I won't soon leave your side again (except, you know, when I'm in a third world country and, let's be totally honest here, probably before that, too).
But I've come to a conclusion about you, dear interwebs, that you're sort of slutty and you'll get the attention you so desperately desire from anyone. Even from that guy over there if you've had a few, but your first choice (obviously) is me so I'll do what I can with my limited resources to be your everything, even if only for a little while (but if you give me the clap, so help me God, we're through).
XOXO,
The Management
Thursday, August 07, 2008
IT'S GONNA BE A GOOD DAY, TATOR
This morning, I filled Guinness' water dish... and then spilt the majority of the contents down my pants leg.
This morning, as I walked Guinness, he lunged at a truck and as I attempted to calm him, I accidentally unhooked his leash. He started towards traffic and I yelled an explicit and started after him, and I'm pretty sure he smelled my fear because he sat his ass down and looked at me like he was very, very sorry.
And it isn't even 8 o'clock yet.
This morning, as I walked Guinness, he lunged at a truck and as I attempted to calm him, I accidentally unhooked his leash. He started towards traffic and I yelled an explicit and started after him, and I'm pretty sure he smelled my fear because he sat his ass down and looked at me like he was very, very sorry.
And it isn't even 8 o'clock yet.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
DON'T RUSH ME
Adam and I went home this weekend to attend my cousin's wedding and I'm a bit disappointed to report only one of my uncles put Adam on the spot by demanding to know what his intentions were with me.
Luckily, my aunts and my mother (mostly my mother) made up for it. Oh yes. They did. And while no one (to my knowledge) came right out and demanded to know a date, they each in their own way made inquiries... to the point where my mother felt obligated to apologize the next day and announced that what she may or may not have said was to in no way be interpreted as her trying to rush anyone.
And while I tease my mother (because it is my God-given right and duty as her daughter), I am thrilled to see Adam so accepted by the three matriarchs of the family, because you remember my snarky, snippy attitude from Friday?
I got that from my mother.
And you know how tact often suffers in my almost crippling drive to be blunt and honest?
I got that from her, too.
And do you know how anyone in my family celebrates any sort of accomplishment or event?
By drinking. In the case of this wedding, drinking heavily. I only bring this up to show just how much my mother must like Adam because I caught her not once but twice whispering conspiratorially with him (presumably about me because <- narcissistic), a drunken gleam in her eye. And she would not presume to be nice with that much alcohol in her system. (Case in point: my mother dropped and/or caused someone else to drop THREE different drinks that night.) So no, my mother was not doing well at hiding any sort of malice at that reception and when pressed about it, all Adam is willing to tell me about what transpired is, "drunk S is funny."
Luckily, my aunts and my mother (mostly my mother) made up for it. Oh yes. They did. And while no one (to my knowledge) came right out and demanded to know a date, they each in their own way made inquiries... to the point where my mother felt obligated to apologize the next day and announced that what she may or may not have said was to in no way be interpreted as her trying to rush anyone.
And while I tease my mother (because it is my God-given right and duty as her daughter), I am thrilled to see Adam so accepted by the three matriarchs of the family, because you remember my snarky, snippy attitude from Friday?
I got that from my mother.
And you know how tact often suffers in my almost crippling drive to be blunt and honest?
I got that from her, too.
And do you know how anyone in my family celebrates any sort of accomplishment or event?
By drinking. In the case of this wedding, drinking heavily. I only bring this up to show just how much my mother must like Adam because I caught her not once but twice whispering conspiratorially with him (presumably about me because <- narcissistic), a drunken gleam in her eye. And she would not presume to be nice with that much alcohol in her system. (Case in point: my mother dropped and/or caused someone else to drop THREE different drinks that night.) So no, my mother was not doing well at hiding any sort of malice at that reception and when pressed about it, all Adam is willing to tell me about what transpired is, "drunk S is funny."
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
EXCUSES
Um... so yesterday I was all prepared to write you a brilliant and provocative and FUNNY post about the goings on over the weekend, including wedding! And... well, actually only the wedding. BUT THEN! 4 of the o'clock variety came about and the "ehh" I'd been feeling all day turned into "way worse than ehh." More like "cannot move lest I void my warranty." So I stoically texted Adam asking for soup and crackers and pity in general and, being the wonderful boyfriend that he is, he also brought tea and movies and walked my dog and did my dishes.
Because he is the Awesome.
Anyway, the stupid, neurotic receptionist has called off AGAIN, so chances are very good I'll write up a post for your delight and enjoyment for later tonight while I'm covering her phones.
Because he is the Awesome.
Anyway, the stupid, neurotic receptionist has called off AGAIN, so chances are very good I'll write up a post for your delight and enjoyment for later tonight while I'm covering her phones.
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