This particular post will mention poop. Please be warned. If you do not want to be reminded of the existence of poop (and who does?) then please go read some of the other, nicer blogs listed to the right, or some of the others that I am too lazy to put there, like Jen-n-Tonic or Dooce. Although, Dooce talks about poop a lot as well. Anyway, here's the story:

Being knocked up takes up an inordinate amount of your body's time, and as a result, some normal bodily functions take a back seat. As discussed before, your stomach acid likes to crawl into your esophagus, and there is no one there to stop it anymore. Also, your lower intestines get a little sluggish and aren't so much with the timely and efficient waste removal. This has never been one of my pet ailments, so I have no idea if I have extraordinary constipation or if this is just run of the mill poop difficulty, but let me tell you it's not comfortable. I prefer to think as little as possible about the pooping; it is my habit to get that funny feeling, get to a ladies room and be done with the whole sordid business as soon as possible. I never understood most male's predeliction for making a day of it, really. Just get in, get out, and be done, I say. Well, now that's just not always possible. Now there is effort involved.

Cut to me in TJ Maxx, stocking up on householdables for the incoming guests. That funny feeling has been happening for a while, and now it is becoming insistant and saying, "Now! Now is the time! I'll let you do it quickly if you do it now!" So off I go to the weird TJ Maxx public/employees restroom. I know precisely where it is, because I know where all the bathrooms in my vicinity are, what with the previous constant nausea and the current constant peeing. When I get there, there is someone in one of the stalls. Great. But I soldier on, albeit a little slowly to give them time to do their business and get the hell out so I don't have to poop in front of someone if I don't have to. By the time I get to the other stall, I realize that the other person has not made a sound. Oh shit, is she going to be all weird about someone else being in here? I then go on a whole diatribe in my head about what a goober this person is, and why the hell doesn't she just go pee and get it over with? I have done my best to make a little noise, in case this will soothe her- I ruffle the toilet seat paper cover and smooth it over the seat; I loudly and authoritatively get some tissue paper, in preparation for my own duties. Still, nothing. Not a peep. Now I am freaked out. What the hell is she doing??? I sit there in the gray/brown bathroom stall, and now we are both silent. I can't go now; I am too wound up about her not going. We sit there in silence for hours. I am the one to finally crack; it's just not going to happen for me, and I just don't know what the hell her problem is. Defiantly, and to prove that I am not, decidedly not, like her, I pee. I flush with abandon and gather my things. As I wash my hands, I finally hear her moving around, rustling toilet paper. Goddammit, she better not be leaving. If I have to hold my poo and go all the way home, she may as well sit here in her precious employees' bathroom and live it up.

I have no idea if she left or not. I grabbed my purchases that I had left outside the door and sort of browsed for a bit, but no one else went through that door while I was there.

Does it disturb anyone else that the longest post I have done in a while is about #2? It disturbs me a bit.

Olympics

You see, the gymnastics, they are just frikin' impressive. Really, all the sports are impressive in the "wow I would be in traction if I even attempted that" kind of way, but the gymnastics are cool. With, of course, the notable and annoying exception of the geeky, goofy little moves that they make the girls do in between hurling themselves around on a tiny plank of wood. These girls fling themselves backwards three times and land on that damn plank dead on each time in a row, and I'm supposed to care if they don't then flick their wrists up and look sideways while *standing still*? This is clearly not a good use of their skill. Who made that up? Why don't the men have to do it? I'd like to see these guys flip around on those impossibly high rings and then have to doodle their toes around in midair for a while. See how they like it.

And what the hell is up those commentators' butts? I have never heard such negative commentation in my life. Never a nice word from these people; it's always, "Oh did you see how her wrist flick was only at a 45 degree angle? At this level of training, there is no excuse for anything but a 90 degree wrist flick. I don't know why she doesn't just go kill herself right now for such a stunning lack of wrist flicking skill." Now, I'm all for standards, but lighten the fuck up, lady. Only a handful of people even noticed the wrist flick, the rest of the population were staring, jaws agape, at the 43 flips in the air she just did. I understand the judges have to look at that kind of thing, but how about some positive feedback for the rest of us, please?

I am also conflicted about all the swimming. So much swimming. Some of the swimming is not even for a medal; it's to qualify to be in the race that gets you the medal. Didn't all of that already happen? Why the hell are we watching that? I don't need so much swimming back and forth. But then, the men get out of the water and they have lots of long muscles and broad chests and tiny little waists! Perhaps they could just show highlights of them all getting out of the water. That I would watch with much more interest.

Prenatal Visit

It's disconcerting when you go to your doctor's, and you give them your list of complaints, and they just nod sympathetically and say, "oh yeah, that part sucks. Mmm, right, yeah, pain, discomfort, swelling, sure sure, all part of the process. Good luck with that." These are not the words you want to hear. You want to hear, oh just eat some oranges and that will clear right up, or, here's a prescription, you will sleep more that 4 frikin' minutes at a time now.

But then, as she's trying to hear the baby's heartbeat and you both have to laugh because the baby won't sit still in utero long enough to get a clear reading, well, you just have to realize that you have the cutest. baby. ever.

Today

I will make cookies today. I haven't made cookies since Christmas, which is very unlike me. I have a new Alton Brown recipe, and we are having guests this weekend (yes, *again*) so I must impress them with my wifely prowess. Plus, I can't stop the eating, and cookies are convenient and portable. Mmmm, cookies.

...these are people who are around my age:

Sean Astin

Ewan McGregor

David Boreanaz ("Angel" to some folks)

Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes

Mark Wahlberg

Corey Feldman and Corey Haim

Tom Green

Fred Durst

Tyson Beckford

Shaquille O'Neil

The Rock

Busta Rhymes

Notorious B.I.G.

Marlon Wayans

Eminem

These people are technically younger than I am:

Oscar De La Hoya

David Blaine

Nomar Garciaparra

Dave Chappelle

Allyson Hannigan

These people were born on the day I was born in a different year:

Nick Lachey

Lou Ferrigno

Carl Sagan

HH was born on the same day as Sinbad and Martin Luther.

Note to Self: When someone offers you a free sample of their new blueberry coffee, made from fresh local blueberries, say, no thank you, that will taste like ass. Do not, under any circumstances, drink this coffee.

I purchased Doom3 for HH last week, because he is a very good boy and has been working his fool head off. Could we afford it? No, especially now that he is complaining we need more memory in order for the Doom experience to be completely cool. Does it really matter? Again, no. It is a very scary game that I can only watch for short periods of time until I have to go watch the Olympics (wooo!) to get my wholesomeness meter to read positive again. I do what I gotta to make my man happy.

Part of the reason we totally couldn't afford it is because we had to go do bachelor/ette parties this weekend (it's just not easy being us). Actually, us girls way overspent the guys, because we went to a spa and they just went and saw boobies. In retrospect, maybe we should have gone to see boobies, too, but then my toes would not be so pretty right now, complete with tiny flowers painted on each big toe. And boobies would not have included dessert, which was Triple Chocolate Meltdown Glucose Emergency. There was also lots of wine of which I obviously did not partake, being that I am in a motherly way at the moment. I was offically the designated driver, which is probably just as well judging from the size of the margaritas everyone was drinking at lunch.

Now I am home, attempting to teach myself Illustrator so I can be of some use to this family besides just maid and gestation machine. I am happy to make the babies, but I'm not as good at the cleaning or cooking, nor do I enjoy it as much. That's right, I would rather not be able to sleep, be constipated and nearly immobile, have heartburn, swollen fingers, and lug around 30 extra pounds than sweep the damn floor every once in a while. You got it, sister.

So, on that note, off to Illustrator Classroom in a Book!

I feel so much better today. I gave that old heartburn the one-two punch--a large mug of warm milk, 4, count 'em four pillows elevating my upper body, and 3 tums right before bed. That's really a one two three punch, but that's just not the saying, is it?

So now that I've slept a bit one would think I could string two sentances together, wouldn't one? Well, one would apparently be wrong, as I have been desperately attempting to submit a writing sample to apply for a job all morning, and I can't get anything to not sound stilted and boring. Sure, it's marketing, which always sounds like that, but dammit I have standards!

On the bright side, does everybody know what starts tonight???? That's right, it's the OLYMPICS!!!Woooo!!!

I get so excited about the Olympics. I am so not a sports person, I don't watch anything else sports related, except the occasional Jumprope Championships, just for the freak factor, but for some reason the Olympics just chokes me up. I love watching people win and get all teary as their national anthem plays. Gets me every time. I don't even get especially choked up when the US wins, I just like patriotism no matter the country. I hope the Iraqi team does well, goodness knows they deserve to feel good about something. Quick Aside: Isn't it weird that we are at war *in* Iraq, but not *with* Iraq? Iraq is our buddy, even though we continue to blow stuff up in their country a lot. It's a complicated relationship. We should be on Springer.

Anyway, back to the OLYMPICS!!! I love the non competition of most Olympic sports. In, say, football, your team is actively trying to make the other team lose. It doesn't seem very sportsmanlike. In gymnastics, you go out there and do your best and hope that your best is the best. There is nothing you can do to the other team to make them lose (except of course go after their knees with a lead pipe, but that's a different story). I am not a conflict person, so it sort of bugs me to have to compete in any way, because it assumes that I really want the other team or person to lose. I don't; I just want to win, naturally. If we could both win, that would be swell. (this trait of mine make me really irritating to play cards with, I am told. I simply don't care who wins.) I know that some Olympics sports are one on one competitions, but overall the focus is on doing your best, not beating the pants off your rival. You see the subtle difference? So if you need me, I will be parked in front of the TV at 8pm tonight for the Opening Ceremonies. Wooo, Olympics!!! (HH is getting really sick of me saying that)

On a stranger note, we just found out that a girl we met at our dance class is married to the local weather man. It really cracks me up for some reason, and every time I see him on TV now, I yell out, "Hey, it's Brian Lapis!" I am insane.

but then there's this:

The cool cowboy flicks his cigarette butt into the street. But he lives in an old movie.

via mimi smartypants

Hey, remember that fantastically productive day I had yesterday? I did all kinds of stuff! It was great! Will today be a repeat of yesterday?

Hell, No! Why? Because stomach acid would not stop eroding my esophagus all. night. long. I was in bed at 10 like a good girl, then up at 12:30, when I constructed an elaborate fort of pillows to elevate all the parts of my body which now need elevating, including my legs and my upper torso. This doesn't sound too bad until you realize I can not sleep on my back, so instead I look like a large bloated boomerang. This startlingly uncomfortable position lasted until 3 a.m., when the stomach acid formed tiny legs and learned to crawl uphill, thus eroding the tender mucous membranes all over my body simultaneously (or so it seemed). I finally gave up at this point and came downstairs to try eating. Mental note: 3 heaping spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream, a cup of tea, toast, and finally Wheat Thins with cheese does not alleviate heartburn in the slightest. Several hours of BBC America later, I hauled my ass up to bed again, just in time for HH to get up for work. Sigh.

To sum up: This blog will make little sense. I will not likely learn much of Illustrator today. I will probably just go check out that maternity consignment store I just heard about, but I will have to hope that my sleep deprived brain won't spend all our money on something really stupid and crappy.

I suppose this is good training for after the baby is born; it's best to learn to drive on 3 hours sleep without a newborn in the car; although, technically, she already is in the car, and she's not even in a carseat.

According to the internet, I have been pregnant for 216 days, and have 64 days remaining. I am not sure which one freaks me out more. Currently I am at this stage: I can't wait to get my hands on my baby, but I am apprehensive about the insane changes that are about to occur, but I am getting uncomfortable, but I am going to sorely miss being pregnant because I love it so.

It's a fun stage.

Today is my first day off. Plans for the day consist of:

1. Returning videos and getting a couple more.

2. Learning Illustrator enough to make a small yet significant change in someone's website.

3. Laundry

4. Emptying the dishwasher and filling it back up with all the damn dishes we accumulate.

5. Mailing a package.

6. Possibly making a banana split.

7. Getting some coherent writing together to send to editors for publication in their esteemed rags.

8. Yoga

9. Calling Pam

I will start, though, with another bowl of 1/3 less sugar Frosted Flakes!

In other news, I had a dream last night that I was invited to senator Rick Santorum's birthday dinner.

Bastard sunsabitches. Salon article about how temps were hired to get Nader on the ballot to help Bush win.

If there is anyone out there who is even thinking about contemplating about a Nader vote, just let me assure you that you are, not to put too fine a point on it, a dumbass. Ralph Nader is a fine person and a tireless advocate. I do believe the US is better off having him around, except for the whole Presidential thing. Even if by some bizzare, will-never-occur happenstance he got elected, none of his policies would ever get through, because as the current president is apparently unaware, there is a system of checks and balances in our political system, part of which is known as Congress. You may have heard of it. Change just doesn't happen quickly, especially when in the context of something as large as governmental policies. Yes, it's frustrating, and if we can think of a different system we'll do it, but for now this is what we have. I am so sick of people carping on about how things aren't "good enough". Yes, sure, we made strides, but not enough! Things aren't absolutely perfect according to my view of the world, so it sucks! It's just irritating and adolescent. There are a lot of policies out there that make absolutely no sense to me and to a lot of people, and it would be good if they were changed (I'm looking at you, Patriot Act and gay marriage bans). But, as with religion, you have to take into account that there are other people in the world, and these other people may have differing viewpoints that are just as valid as your own (no matter how incorrect and misguided). So we all have to work together, and Nader in no way will work together with big business. Again, not that I think he or anyone else should, but that is simply my opinion. Nader would accomodate big business around the same time GW would fund huge new grants to Greenpeace. Different sides of the same coin, I'm afraid.

More importantly, this is no time to be making a stand. This is the time to take baby steps, as long as they are forward. A vote for Nader is a vote for Bush, and since this is not fantasy idealistic world but unfortunately is harsh reality world, it is important to choose the lesser of two evils. If we diligently continue to do this, we will eventually end up with tiny, little evils that are small and pocketsized.

We do this each election, for we all know that all politicians are liars and will say anything to get elected. Is there someone out there who will disagree with me? Please let me know if so. It amuses me when people accuse one candidate of these traits, as if their opponent does not possess them in spades as well.

For my last act of politicalisming (it's sort of like pointillism, but less dots) I will direct you to MoveOn to view really great pre-ads that feature Republicans that are voting for Kerry. You go witcher bad self, MoveOn.

WARNING: This first part is about a dream I had--Very Boring. It's my Blog and I'll write it, But don't feel obligated to read. Instead, hum quietly to yourself until you can scroll down to the rest of the post. Thank you.

I just had the weirdest full-on REM sleep dream, ending with me in a pullout couch bed with the woman who plays Ms. Sprout in the Harry Potter movies, chewing on a bottlecap and saying, "we have to go!" (we each had a bottlecap-they were a talisman that would transport us out of the place we were in. Really.) I woke up and indeed, it was time to go. My alarm went off seconds later.

This dream started with a recurrent theme of mine: attempting to get on a plane out of Las Vegas. Why in Frank Sinatra's name I would be having recurring dreams about missing flights out of Las Vegas is beyond me. And it's always Las Vegas. I like Las Vegas, I have never had a really bad time there, it's lovely, in a loud and always-on kind of way. This time, I couldn't leave Las Vegas because I had too much luggage, and I got lost in this enormous co-ed rest room, and my cell phone wouldn't work in the hotel so I couldn't call my friends. A man tried to help me, but got distracted by a banquet room, so somehow I ended up in a boarding house (as one does). This led to me tucking in a very old friend whom I haven't seen in years into a couch and rubbing his head until he fell asleep. My second attempt to leave was thwarted, as it was suddenly very snowy and the fabric on the roof of the car kept falling down over the window. Then the plow guy came and plowed the car in. Also, another friend from NM was in the backseat, drunk and needing a ride. We all got out (because now there were about 8 of us) and through a bizzare series of "The Ring"-like events, the bottlecaps came into play. And something about 62 Locust Street being the superintendant's office for each stranger at the table. ( I looked it up just now-it's not.) So doc, am I nuts, or am I just not allowed any more chocolate ice cream before bed? Sheesh.

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For those of you who have not taken my blog off your reading list forever for talking about my dreams, today is the last day I work for the crazy lawyer lady! Yay! She's nuts!

In other good news, HH and I went blueberry picking on Saturday, and then had blueberry French Toast for dinner, with blueberry maple syrup. Again, I say Yay!

Off I go to transfer power to some poor luckless girl who must take my place at Crazy Lawyer's Crazy Law Firm! One last time, kids--Yay!