Soul searching. Intensive therapy. Groveling. That's what last night's Bachelor Show was all about. Does that sound fun to you? Mmmm....not so much. But surprisingly, not a terrible show. Then again, after the last season, the bar is rather low...
So we begin the show with Brad talking about alone he felt after leaving both girls standing at the alter last time. How he is "closed off" and spent three years in intensive therapy. In case you don't believe him, we get to meet his shrink. What?! Really? Is this engaging television? As if reading my mind, the producers begin what I call "the chest montage."
Now. I'm not saying they shouldn't. Brad has a great chest. And since he appears to be...well, vertically challenged, they may as well play up the chest. But it was starting to look like a Skinamax Late Night Feature. C'mon....the shot of him in the pool with the water glistening off him? Really? Is that necessary? And could his tattoo of a cross possibly be any bigger? Is he trying to ward off vampires? Or just Jewish girls? Anyway...
We also spend some time get a little glimpse of the girls that will be vying for his attentions this season. There is Ashley the Dentist who believes dentistry is an "art form and the mouth is my canvas." There is Shawntel the funeral director. There is Michelle the Man Eater from Utah who tells her five-year-old daughter "mommy needs to find a husband." Then there is Madison the Vampire. Now why do I think that any real vampire would not be named Madison? Oh wait...there aren't any real vampires. There are however, girls who have perhaps read a few too many Twilight books and think they will up their chances of hooking up with Robert Pattinson if they get their teeth carved into fangs. Yes, she did, my friends. Girlfriend's got fangs and they appear to be permanent.
There is also the sad story of Emily from Charlotte, a very blond Southern belle who looks a bit like Holly Madison without the implants. She got engaged at 19, her fiance died in a plane crash and she finds out the day after that she is pregnant with their daughter. This tale is just too sorrowful for ABC's supposed "happy ending" if you ask me but I wish the poor thing well.
Okay. In the meantime, Chris and Brad have a sit down about what he's been doing for the past three years. Brad spends a lot of time blaming his father for the way he is. Now. I do think it sounds like Brad had kind of d-bag of a father. However, I think at a certain point...like say in your mid-thirties perhaps....you need to start taking responsibility for your own actions. Not to quote Dr. Phil but "you've gotta rise above your raising." Okay, I just quoted Dr. Phil. So sue me. I promise, I really don't watch it on a regular basis. I get most of my real wisdom from Patti Stranger.
Now for some reason, ABC thought it would be a good idea to bring back Deanna and Jenny and have them "confront" Brad about leaving them at the altar. Why? They are both engaged to other people. And this is actually Deanna's second engagement...clearly, they have moved on. Brad is very humble and sweaty and says things like "you guys made me a better person." Jenny says "I'm hopeful for you." Deanna says "I'm skeptical it will work out for you." At least she is consistent.
Okay. It's limo time. Time to meet the ladies. These are just my initial first impressions so you can try to keep track of them all:
1. Chantal. This is the used car salesperson from Seattle. Dark hair, green dress, basically cute. Gets out of the limo and says "I have something for you from every woman in America, Brad." She then proceeds to slap him in the face. Brad looks honestly surprised so if this was a set-up, it was at least well-acted. It kinda made me like her. I think it scared the hell out of Brad.
2. Kimberly. A pretty blonde in sparkly purple. Kind of does weird stuff with her mouth.
3. Alli. A very tall brunette in green with huge boobs. And as she points out later, a big tush. The Kardashian of the group.
4. Ashley. Well, butter my biscuit...a real Southern belle living in NYC, working as a nanny. Very skinny and the camera adds ten pounds. She grabs Brad's butt. Or as we like to call it in our house "heiny." Or booty. Or tush. Or bum. We talk about that area of the body more than I would like, actually.
5. Meghan. A Girl in weird pink shoes. I'm all for weird pink shoes but these weren't even cute. Don't remember anything else about her.
6. Marissa. A cute brunette in a light pink prom dress. Asks Brad if he is okay being with someone whose whole life revolves around sports? Duh.
7. Lindsy. A redhead from Dallas wearing a red dress. I thought most redheads didn't wear red because it washed them out? Redheads, care to comment?
8. Ashley the Dentist. Not to be confused with Southern Ashley. She is wearing a few too many sparkles for my taste.
9. Rachail. The Manscaper. This is what she calls herself. Trying to make waxing body hair sound more interesting than it is. She has the first really truly bad spray tan of the night. I think it makes her look kinda old.
10. Madison the Vampire. She purrs "you look delicious." She is a pretty blonde wearing red (GET IT??) so Brad seems not to notice her extended eye teeth. This is officially my pick for the ABC plant. No way this girl is for real.
11. Melissa. A blondey blonde who does a running leap into Brad's arms. Luckily, she is about the size of a ten-year-old boy so it isn't hard for him to catch her.
12. Renee. Another nanny, this time in a blue prom dress. Kind of annoying voice.
13. Christy. Bad posture girl. Needs a bra with better lift, if you know what I mean.
14. Jackie. An artist from New York. Kinda looks like Rachel on Glee. I think she is too New York-y (meaning she is either Jewish, Italian or Hispanic) for him.
15. Sarah P. Another blonde but this time in more of a debutante kind of way. A bit matronly. Makes him get on one knee and pretend to propose.
16. Lacy. Wearing lavender. That's all I got.
17. Lisa P. Another New York girl. Blonde in a black bubble skirt.
18. Shawntel the Funeral Director. A brunette wearing yellow.
19. A hand beckons from the limo. It is Britnee! No, not that Britnee. But Britnee with the Bump-It. If you don't know what a bump-it is, you are truly missing out. It is some sort of cone that you stick in your hair to give you "lift." If you are north of the Mason-Dixon line, you have no need for one of these things. Poor Britnee. The only thing worse than being named that is having it spelled with two ee's.
20. Stacy. A bartender from Boston. Has that scratchy, I've-spent-too-many-nights-in-a-bar-kinda-voice. Since Brad owns a couple of bars, I imagine they will get along just fine.
21. Jill. Shiny black hair wearing black. Kinda looks like a tall Morticia Adams. Tells Brad immediately she is looking to get married. Always a bad sign, if you ask me.
22. Lisa from Kansas. Comes out the limo wearing red ruby slippers. No, I'm not joking.
23. Rebecca from CA. Kisses Brad immediately. Good thing since we never see her again.
24. J. That's her whole name. Wow, maybe I don't need to think of a name for my unborn child, just an initial. It's very minimalist, that's for sure. She is so minimalist, she kind of just disappears and we never notice her again.
25. And lastly, we have Keltie. Who extends her leg up the length of the limo. Oh dear. But wait! She's a Rockette! Maybe she can Brad a discount at Radio City to see the phenomenally bad Christmas Show. Sorry, but it really sucks.
26. Next we have someone who think might be named Sarah L or Sam L, my notes are too messy. Anyway, it doesn't matter since we hardly ever see her again.
27. Emily. The sweet Southern belle with the sad sad tale. Brad is entranced by her thick as molasses accent.
28. Britt. A chef and food writer who looks like a mermaid. Seriously, totally Darryl Hannah from Splash.
29. Michelle the Maneater. Wearing a jungley-print dress, perfect for hunting husbands.
30. Oops. I've got one out of order here. Lauren in gold. Hair in some intricate twist. I forgot her because well...she seems kinda forgettable. Brad forgot about her too.
Next begins the cocktail party. Otherwise known as "Brad pleads his case." He has the same conversation with every girl there about how he has changed, soul-searched, blah, blah blah. Highlights included the Manscaper waxing Brad's wrist and talking about how she has waxed men's "under carriage". Jackie singing a made-up song in a kind of wanna-be Broadway voice. Alli asking Brad if he could handle her big booty. And Renee and Alli trying to steal Brad away from each other time and time again.
Emily tells Brad she is a "coal miner's daughter" and I am waiting for her to bust into some Loretta Lynn. No deal, though. The fun part is Brad asking Madison the Vampire if she is wearing fangs. She assures Brad she is here for "the right reasons." Bachelor blood, of course.
The first impression rose goes to Southern Ashley, who told him that no matter what, she was there to be his friend. Kind of lame in my opinion but the man is a sucker for a Southern drawl. Here is how the Rose Ceremony played out:
1. Michelle the Maneater.
2. Kimberly the blonde from NC
3. Madison the Vampire who pretends to bite him.
4. Emily the Sweet Southern belle.
5. Raichel the Manscaper
6. Keltie the rockette
7. Ashley the Dentist
8. Meghan the Morticia Look Alike
9. Lisa M the girl from Kansas with red slippers
10. Lindsy the Redhead from Texas
11. Alli....the Kardashian
12. Sarah P the Debutante
13. Marissa the Girl in the Prom Dress
14. Britt the Mermaid
15. Stacy the Barmaid
16. Shawntel the Mortician
17. Jackie the Glee Girl
18. Melissa the Skinny
19. Chantal the Slapper
Who's out? Do you really care? We hardly know these people at this point. Britnee the Bumpit is gone. So is Lisa P from NYC. We see scenes from this season and it appears they have decided Michelle will be the crazy one in the house. She also somehow gets a black eye.
That's all I got folks! We're off to an interesting start...I think. Thoughts? Anyone? Anyone?
Happy Tuesday,
N
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Sucker
Yes. That's me. Because I will attempt to watch The Bachelor tonight.
Do I have better things to do with my time? Well, yeah. Like sleep. Prepare for the baby that is set to show up in this house in about six weeks. Clean. Do work. Etc, etc.
But instead I will watch Brad the Bachelor, the finicky, kind-of-short, somewhat hickish Bachelor do his thing. And then write about it.
It's a sickness, I tell you.
Who's with me?
Do I have better things to do with my time? Well, yeah. Like sleep. Prepare for the baby that is set to show up in this house in about six weeks. Clean. Do work. Etc, etc.
But instead I will watch Brad the Bachelor, the finicky, kind-of-short, somewhat hickish Bachelor do his thing. And then write about it.
It's a sickness, I tell you.
Who's with me?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Name, name, what's your name?
This is the way A.'s ballet class starts out every week. I'm sure at some point they will just start with warm-up exercises but when you're four, you start with a song.
And the song is important because that way everyone knows everyone else's name. Plus it's helped me learn that if you are the type of parent who puts your daughter in ballet, you are also usually the type of parent who names your daughter with something that ends in the letter "a." I include myself in that category.
I will say when we named our daughter, I didn't know anyone else with that name. It also worked perfectly with the middle name we wanted for her, Jo, which was the name of my husband's mother. So it seemed perfect...an old-fashioned name that wasn't super popular but not something so obscure people looked at you funny.
Safe to say, lots of people must have felt the same way about that name because A's name is everywhere now. And on the rise. Sigh.
Now, I must tell you as someone named Nanette, I have strong opinions about names. I was usually the only Nanette in the room and I liked it that way. Even now, on the rare occasion I meet one, I tend not to like the person automatically. The name is mine...go away and be Nanette someplace else. I'm sorry if this sounds ridiculous but you can't possibly understand my situation if you have a name like Michael or Lisa or Jennifer. If your name runs to the unusual side, well, you tend to be a little protective of it and want to keep it that way.
Of course, as a kid, I totally wanted a name you could find on a light switch or a pencil or a bike license plate. But once I accepted the fact that was never going to happen, I started to feel a little superior and yes, smug that my name wasn't like anyone else's. At least it was memorable. And let's face it, light switches with your name on it are pretty lame anyway.
So imagine my dismay when I discovered that A's name is creeping up the name popularity list. And horror of horrors, she isn't the only one in her ballet class who has it. There are not 2 A's, but three. THREE.
And now, I'm pregnant with a boy. We do not have a name yet. We do have letters we would like to use as his first and middle initials but that is it. I have a few names I like. But. They are not terribly terribly unusual. Most unusual names for boys strike me as trying too hard. Or just hard to wear for a lifetime. So we are struggling. Do we go more common (but not trendy....nothing that rhymes with -aden since that makes me ill) or do we branch out? Do we dare to name him something like Atticus or does that also bear with it the annoyance of having every person he ever meets bring up "To Kill a Mockingbird?" I mean, I can't tell you how many people bring up the musical No, No, Nanette...which is a pretty mediocre musical at best. Do I want to do that to my son?
Here are my personal requirements:
Something simple
Something that starts with M, W, B or J
Nothing too ethnic...of any ethnicity
Nothing that ends in the "y" sound
Nothing that is unisex...since I think once it becomes a popular name for a girl, the girls own it.
Nothing that sounds too harsh to the ear (for example the name Bram would be out since to me it sounds like a noise a goat would make).
Nothing too trendy
Nothing that sounds like it could possibly be the name of a serial killer.
So you see, my requirements are simple, really. Any suggestions? Send 'em my way. I'm sure you have an opinion, everybody does.
And the song is important because that way everyone knows everyone else's name. Plus it's helped me learn that if you are the type of parent who puts your daughter in ballet, you are also usually the type of parent who names your daughter with something that ends in the letter "a." I include myself in that category.
I will say when we named our daughter, I didn't know anyone else with that name. It also worked perfectly with the middle name we wanted for her, Jo, which was the name of my husband's mother. So it seemed perfect...an old-fashioned name that wasn't super popular but not something so obscure people looked at you funny.
Safe to say, lots of people must have felt the same way about that name because A's name is everywhere now. And on the rise. Sigh.
Now, I must tell you as someone named Nanette, I have strong opinions about names. I was usually the only Nanette in the room and I liked it that way. Even now, on the rare occasion I meet one, I tend not to like the person automatically. The name is mine...go away and be Nanette someplace else. I'm sorry if this sounds ridiculous but you can't possibly understand my situation if you have a name like Michael or Lisa or Jennifer. If your name runs to the unusual side, well, you tend to be a little protective of it and want to keep it that way.
Of course, as a kid, I totally wanted a name you could find on a light switch or a pencil or a bike license plate. But once I accepted the fact that was never going to happen, I started to feel a little superior and yes, smug that my name wasn't like anyone else's. At least it was memorable. And let's face it, light switches with your name on it are pretty lame anyway.
So imagine my dismay when I discovered that A's name is creeping up the name popularity list. And horror of horrors, she isn't the only one in her ballet class who has it. There are not 2 A's, but three. THREE.
And now, I'm pregnant with a boy. We do not have a name yet. We do have letters we would like to use as his first and middle initials but that is it. I have a few names I like. But. They are not terribly terribly unusual. Most unusual names for boys strike me as trying too hard. Or just hard to wear for a lifetime. So we are struggling. Do we go more common (but not trendy....nothing that rhymes with -aden since that makes me ill) or do we branch out? Do we dare to name him something like Atticus or does that also bear with it the annoyance of having every person he ever meets bring up "To Kill a Mockingbird?" I mean, I can't tell you how many people bring up the musical No, No, Nanette...which is a pretty mediocre musical at best. Do I want to do that to my son?
Here are my personal requirements:
Something simple
Something that starts with M, W, B or J
Nothing too ethnic...of any ethnicity
Nothing that ends in the "y" sound
Nothing that is unisex...since I think once it becomes a popular name for a girl, the girls own it.
Nothing that sounds too harsh to the ear (for example the name Bram would be out since to me it sounds like a noise a goat would make).
Nothing too trendy
Nothing that sounds like it could possibly be the name of a serial killer.
So you see, my requirements are simple, really. Any suggestions? Send 'em my way. I'm sure you have an opinion, everybody does.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Things I am not qualified to explain
There are a lot. Higher math, football special teams, the Tea Party, just to name a few. But it wasn't until a recent trip to Florida that I realized this also included the nativity scene.
I know what you're thinking. What's to explain? It's a baby, his parents, some kings and some sheep. Of course, there is way more significance to it but being a Jew, I can really only topline it. I don't know all the intricacies and to be honest, never really considered them. Until A. and I encountered a nativity scene in a mall in Florida.
A: Look Mommy! Dolls!
I looked around frantically for my husband. As the non-Jewish half of the parental unit, this was his job to explain. I had already covered Chanukah, Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Purim....even Tu Bishvat. This manger scene surely qualified as his territory. Alas, he was no where to be found, lost in the hateful labyrinth that is Sawgrass Mills mall. I sighed.
ME: Well....they aren't dolls exactly.
A: I want to touch them.
ME: Oh, no, you can't.
A: Why?
ME: They aren't meant to be touched.
A. rolled her eyes at me. A new thing she has learned in PreK. Thanks, PreK.
A: There are kings there. Why are there three? Who is the real king? And where is the queen. Why is that lady dressed as a bride?
ME: She isn't. She is the mommy of the little baby.
A: Is it a boy baby?
ME: Yes. His name is Jesus.
A: Well, it looks like a girl to me.
ME: Trust me. It's a boy.
A: Why are there sheep there? That's funny.
ME: Everyone wanted to visit the baby.
A: Sheep don't visit babies.
ME: Well, in this case, they did. Lots of people thought he was a special baby.
A: Why?
Oh dear. Where is my HUSBAND??
A: Is that lady clapping?
ME: Who? Mary?
A: How do you know her name?
ME: Everyone knows her name. She is not clapping. She is praying.
At this point, A. attempts to leap over the fence surrounding the nativity scene.
ME: Hey. No.
A: I want to hold the baby.
ME: I told you. You can't.
A: But it's a baby doll. I want to hold her.
ME: It's a "he."
A: I think it's a girl. Ohhhh. Look over there.
ME: Santa Claus?
A: No. Ice cream.
ME: Let's go.
A: Can I pet the sheep?
ME: Not this sheep.
A: Bye Jesus! Hey, maybe that's what we should name Baby Brother.
ME: Hmmm. Maybe not.
I know what you're thinking. What's to explain? It's a baby, his parents, some kings and some sheep. Of course, there is way more significance to it but being a Jew, I can really only topline it. I don't know all the intricacies and to be honest, never really considered them. Until A. and I encountered a nativity scene in a mall in Florida.
A: Look Mommy! Dolls!
I looked around frantically for my husband. As the non-Jewish half of the parental unit, this was his job to explain. I had already covered Chanukah, Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Purim....even Tu Bishvat. This manger scene surely qualified as his territory. Alas, he was no where to be found, lost in the hateful labyrinth that is Sawgrass Mills mall. I sighed.
ME: Well....they aren't dolls exactly.
A: I want to touch them.
ME: Oh, no, you can't.
A: Why?
ME: They aren't meant to be touched.
A. rolled her eyes at me. A new thing she has learned in PreK. Thanks, PreK.
A: There are kings there. Why are there three? Who is the real king? And where is the queen. Why is that lady dressed as a bride?
ME: She isn't. She is the mommy of the little baby.
A: Is it a boy baby?
ME: Yes. His name is Jesus.
A: Well, it looks like a girl to me.
ME: Trust me. It's a boy.
A: Why are there sheep there? That's funny.
ME: Everyone wanted to visit the baby.
A: Sheep don't visit babies.
ME: Well, in this case, they did. Lots of people thought he was a special baby.
A: Why?
Oh dear. Where is my HUSBAND??
A: Is that lady clapping?
ME: Who? Mary?
A: How do you know her name?
ME: Everyone knows her name. She is not clapping. She is praying.
At this point, A. attempts to leap over the fence surrounding the nativity scene.
ME: Hey. No.
A: I want to hold the baby.
ME: I told you. You can't.
A: But it's a baby doll. I want to hold her.
ME: It's a "he."
A: I think it's a girl. Ohhhh. Look over there.
ME: Santa Claus?
A: No. Ice cream.
ME: Let's go.
A: Can I pet the sheep?
ME: Not this sheep.
A: Bye Jesus! Hey, maybe that's what we should name Baby Brother.
ME: Hmmm. Maybe not.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Author! Author!
It's not that I planned on my daughter becoming a writer or anything. It's just that I assumed, well, it might be a possibility. It being in her blood and all.
Dad and Mom, both writers. The girl was doomed.
And okay, so maybe, just maybe, when I was considering baby names, I thought about how hers might look on the cover of a book. The name would have some gravitas for it to work. I just didn't think anything too cutesy or sexy will set her up for a possible place on the best seller's list. Lacy was clearly out.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
So yesterday was our first parent-teacher conference at A's preschool. We got to view her art "portfolio" among other things. And then the teacher presented the book that A had written and illustrated.
"It's about a princess," The teacher said. Surprise, surprise. We nodded and smiled at the pink scribbles on the front cover. "Want to read it?"
Of course we did.
It went like this:
"Once there was a princess. She died."
Okay. But it continued.
"And then there was an airplane. It fell out of the sky and broke. The end."
We nodded.
"Well," I said to my husband later. "Clearly she is more of a plot-driven writer than a character-driven one."
"Should we be worried?"
"Nah. Maybe she's more of an action/adventure type writer."
He looked at me.
"It's fine. So she'll appeal to more commercial markets that way."
He sighed.
A writer is born.
Dad and Mom, both writers. The girl was doomed.
And okay, so maybe, just maybe, when I was considering baby names, I thought about how hers might look on the cover of a book. The name would have some gravitas for it to work. I just didn't think anything too cutesy or sexy will set her up for a possible place on the best seller's list. Lacy was clearly out.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
So yesterday was our first parent-teacher conference at A's preschool. We got to view her art "portfolio" among other things. And then the teacher presented the book that A had written and illustrated.
"It's about a princess," The teacher said. Surprise, surprise. We nodded and smiled at the pink scribbles on the front cover. "Want to read it?"
Of course we did.
It went like this:
"Once there was a princess. She died."
Okay. But it continued.
"And then there was an airplane. It fell out of the sky and broke. The end."
We nodded.
"Well," I said to my husband later. "Clearly she is more of a plot-driven writer than a character-driven one."
"Should we be worried?"
"Nah. Maybe she's more of an action/adventure type writer."
He looked at me.
"It's fine. So she'll appeal to more commercial markets that way."
He sighed.
A writer is born.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Please stand clear of the huge stomach that's about to hit you in the face
Seriously, I was hoping I wasn't going to have to write this. Really, I was.
I am always the first to defend New Yorkers and their manners. All kinds of random acts of kindness have befallen me through the years. And some random acts of not-much-kindness but still. The good clearly outweighs the bad.
And then I got pregnant.
Now, this is obviously not my first time as a pregnant mama in NYC. I made it through 8 months of subway commutes last go around, made even worse by a super hot summer and extremely puffy feet. And while I didn't get a seat every time, I did get a lot of offers. Yes, we could talk about who usually offered the seats (generally youngish African American men or Latino men) or what lines were better for getting seats (the F is very mama friendly, the 6 forget about it)...but the point is, I got offers.
This time, I've been offered a seat exactly twice. I might add that I ride the subway at least twice a day during the week, usually more.
There is the old avert-the-eyes trick. This is particularly lame when my stomach is practically smacking you in the face. There is the I've-seen-you-and-now-I-am-suddenly asleep. Oh yes, you clearly deserve an Oscar. The worst is, I've-seen-you-and-it-is-your-fault-for-getting-pregnant look. This usually comes from some 20-something woman who cannot fathom letting themselves get fat enough to get preg. Sort of a you-brought-it-on-yourself-now-deal look.
Now. I am not an invalid. There are clearly people who deserve a seat more than me. But. My back really really hurts. Sometimes I feel a bit queasy. Sometimes, weird pains hit me at odd times, like the little homie inside is trying to make a break for it. A seat would be awfully, awfully nice.
So all I have to say to those of you pretending not to see or pretending to sleep or judging my condition, karma is a bitch, man. One day you will be pregnant or someone you love might be. And I'm telling you, what comes around, goes around.
Come on, New Yorkers, I'm rooting for you. Don't let me down. Help a sister out, why don't you. I don't want to have to take back all the nice things I've said about you.
I am always the first to defend New Yorkers and their manners. All kinds of random acts of kindness have befallen me through the years. And some random acts of not-much-kindness but still. The good clearly outweighs the bad.
And then I got pregnant.
Now, this is obviously not my first time as a pregnant mama in NYC. I made it through 8 months of subway commutes last go around, made even worse by a super hot summer and extremely puffy feet. And while I didn't get a seat every time, I did get a lot of offers. Yes, we could talk about who usually offered the seats (generally youngish African American men or Latino men) or what lines were better for getting seats (the F is very mama friendly, the 6 forget about it)...but the point is, I got offers.
This time, I've been offered a seat exactly twice. I might add that I ride the subway at least twice a day during the week, usually more.
There is the old avert-the-eyes trick. This is particularly lame when my stomach is practically smacking you in the face. There is the I've-seen-you-and-now-I-am-suddenly asleep. Oh yes, you clearly deserve an Oscar. The worst is, I've-seen-you-and-it-is-your-fault-for-getting-pregnant look. This usually comes from some 20-something woman who cannot fathom letting themselves get fat enough to get preg. Sort of a you-brought-it-on-yourself-now-deal look.
Now. I am not an invalid. There are clearly people who deserve a seat more than me. But. My back really really hurts. Sometimes I feel a bit queasy. Sometimes, weird pains hit me at odd times, like the little homie inside is trying to make a break for it. A seat would be awfully, awfully nice.
So all I have to say to those of you pretending not to see or pretending to sleep or judging my condition, karma is a bitch, man. One day you will be pregnant or someone you love might be. And I'm telling you, what comes around, goes around.
Come on, New Yorkers, I'm rooting for you. Don't let me down. Help a sister out, why don't you. I don't want to have to take back all the nice things I've said about you.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
My new boyfriend
In case you're wondering, his name is Jay. In case you're wondering, yes, my husband does know about him. And he totally approves.
Jay is really tall and slim and we spend a lot of time in bed together. That's because Jay is my new body pillow. He is as long as a king size bed, which is quite impressive, really. Mostly, he lies there smugly, waiting to be snuggled, which he knows will happen since I need serious comfort. He is also shaped like the letter "J." Hence, his name.
Why do I need Jay in my life?
Simple. I am pregs.
If you're reading this, you probably already know this information because I announced it to all 408 of my Facebook friends last week. Yes, perhaps kind of cheesy to declare it to the whole world that way. But I've spent a lot of time worrying about this situation. So finally, it was a relief to sort of shout from the electronic rooftops.
And now you know why I haven't been blogging. Hard to share things about yourself when the biggest thing happening in your life you can't talk about. But I'm back. And I promise not to be pregnancy girl talk all the time. Because let's face it...if you are a male, you do not care. And if you are a female, you've already been there...done that. Or if you haven't done that, you might be completely horrified by the gory details. So I'll keep that talk to a dull roar.
Meanwhile, our girl is super excited about the prospect of a baby brother. We'll see how girlfriend feels about it when he starts waking her up in the middle of the night. Currently, she is kind of pissed off that he hasn't shown up yet. She still claims to like the name Cream Cheese but has opened up her options to include Mango, Butter or Zack.
My current hopes are that Baby Boy doesn't show up early like Baby Girl did, that he never dates a Kardashian and that he stops forcing me to eat things like Sprees, Smarties and slices of lemon. Oh, and that he stops leaning on that part of my back that I believe the doctor called the sciatic nerve. I thought only old people had sciatica. Apparently either this isn't true or I am old.
Anyway, that's where my boyfriend Jay comes in. A snuggle from Jay keeps the sciatica away. After all, he's got to earn his keep. Boyfriend kinda hogs the bed.
Jay is really tall and slim and we spend a lot of time in bed together. That's because Jay is my new body pillow. He is as long as a king size bed, which is quite impressive, really. Mostly, he lies there smugly, waiting to be snuggled, which he knows will happen since I need serious comfort. He is also shaped like the letter "J." Hence, his name.
Why do I need Jay in my life?
Simple. I am pregs.
If you're reading this, you probably already know this information because I announced it to all 408 of my Facebook friends last week. Yes, perhaps kind of cheesy to declare it to the whole world that way. But I've spent a lot of time worrying about this situation. So finally, it was a relief to sort of shout from the electronic rooftops.
And now you know why I haven't been blogging. Hard to share things about yourself when the biggest thing happening in your life you can't talk about. But I'm back. And I promise not to be pregnancy girl talk all the time. Because let's face it...if you are a male, you do not care. And if you are a female, you've already been there...done that. Or if you haven't done that, you might be completely horrified by the gory details. So I'll keep that talk to a dull roar.
Meanwhile, our girl is super excited about the prospect of a baby brother. We'll see how girlfriend feels about it when he starts waking her up in the middle of the night. Currently, she is kind of pissed off that he hasn't shown up yet. She still claims to like the name Cream Cheese but has opened up her options to include Mango, Butter or Zack.
My current hopes are that Baby Boy doesn't show up early like Baby Girl did, that he never dates a Kardashian and that he stops forcing me to eat things like Sprees, Smarties and slices of lemon. Oh, and that he stops leaning on that part of my back that I believe the doctor called the sciatic nerve. I thought only old people had sciatica. Apparently either this isn't true or I am old.
Anyway, that's where my boyfriend Jay comes in. A snuggle from Jay keeps the sciatica away. After all, he's got to earn his keep. Boyfriend kinda hogs the bed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)