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Showing posts from June 21, 2009

Which reminds me...

I used a word in a recent post that got me thinking....

Years ago I started dating this guy. It was relatively early in our relationship when I accompanied him to a game night one of his friends was hosting. It would be the first time meeting this friend, and all other friends that were going to be there. I was nervous, but friendly, and was able to relax and enjoy the evening.

We started playing Catch Phrase... a game where you use words and examples to get your team to describe a particular word. It was my new boyfriend's turn. While I was not on his team, I was able to listen firsthand to every thing said and suggested.

"... uh, Phoenix has these... uh.... they're small... uh, not big.... "

(oh yes, the guessing went straight to boobs.)

"... uh, you know, they're small - not big..."

(yeah, yeah, we get it. I have small tits. Do we really need to do this?)

I was getting more and more red... the guests starting to look more and more uncomfortable...

Meanwhile …

Money brings you THIS?!

Sometimes I wish I was wealthy and had as much money as the majority of the people have that live in this municipality in which I work... but then I see something on one of those really nice, expensive estates and it makes me realize if I was wealthy, I might have to spend my money on things like this:

And I just can't be doing that.

27 dresses... that won't fit until I lose this baby weight...

So, twenty-seven it is. Weeks, that is. That means I have thirteen left. Thirteen doesn't sound too bad, but then I do that thing where I multiply it by seven, because that's how many days are in each one of those thirteen weeks I still have to endure, and I come up with ninety-one. Ninety-one: now, that's downright rediculous.

I'm told Cletus the Fetus is now about the size of a 2-pound pot roast. Knowing this disturbs me because when I look down at my Baby Mound (we surpassed 'Baby Bump' quite awhile ago) I know there is no possible way this could fit into any crockpot.

As tempted as I am to issue an eviction notice to the hyper rockstar that's constantly jamming out in my womb, I guess I'm committed to my original 40-week lease. (Cletus has the option of vacating the premises earlier, but must give at least seven days notice so I can prepare. And my internal organs best be in the same shape they were when s/he arrived!)

Too Hot to Handle

I wish I had something witty and humorous to say. It might just put me in a better mood. I wish I had something surly to say, at least it would mean my brain is functioning.

A pet peeve of mine is the "gotta complain about the weather" people. (As if we had any control!) But today I have joined their ranks. It's hot. And I mean HOT!

95 degrees.
45% humidity.
So it feels like 102 degrees.
There's currently one of those severe weather alerts that tells us to check on the elderly and make sure our pets don't overheat.

The air conditioner in the house went out.
The air conditioner in my car is not up to snuff (and we're going to the mall tonight in an attempt to cram my preggo bod into a dress that passes as 'Formal' for Friday's wedding).

Not only did I have to try to sleep in this heat (which wasn't succesful), and not only did I have to drive to work with the windows down, hot air lapping around my face, but the air in the office went out.

As in O-U-T!

A…