oh my god Becky, look at her butt

Have I mentioned that I hired a doula because labor scares me more than I can find the words to describe? For example, here's a typical conversation with me when the topic turns to labor: "Labor? You mean when the baby exits my body? Fuckeurivnrwushitmsvdfkngoddammit." My hope is that the doula will keep me from freaking out too much and will also keep me from killing jparks because I imagine if there were ever a time when murder would be a real option, while I push his baby out and he stands there pain free, that might be the time.

So we hired a doula and have our first real meeting with her this weekend. (as opposed to the interview meeting where we just kind of all stared at each other and occasionally I would mutter something that sounded like a question, all the while praying that we wouldn't do something to scare her off) At this meeting we have to turn in our paperwork that includes a questionnaire titled "Getting To Know You" and if our doula can make it through that and not quit on us, then I'll know we made the right decision.

It started innocently enough with questions like "Have you had any surgeries or traumas that might effect your labor?" and "How do you respond to everyday pain?" But the questions quickly turn to ones that I am not able to answer without sarcasm, such as "What are your expectations about this birth?" Answer: "To end up with a baby and as little damage to my ladytown as possible." "What are your fears/anxieties?" I couldn't even answer that one so I just wrote "Oh so many" because people LABOR! HOLY CRAP!

I turned to the next page of questions and promptly ran crying for my mom. "During delivery, I'd like: To view the birth using a mirror, To touch my baby's head as it crowns, To risk a tear rather than have an episiotomy, and/or To have my partner catch the baby." I know birth is natural and beautiful and blah blah blah, but I don't need to see the birth in a mirror. Really, I just don't. And I don't want jparks catching the baby. I imagine it will be like catching a greased pig and I can just see my kid hitting the floor as it slides right out of jparks' hands.

One of my favorite questions is "After birth, I'd like: My partner to cut the cord, To hold my baby right away delaying procedures for up to an hour, and/or To say a prayer or read something meaningful or sing a special song" A special song! Yes, please! Jparks and I have been debating about what song might be the most inappropriate one to sing and the front runners right now are "Ice Ice Baby" "Baby Got Back" and "Fuck The Police." (nothing against the police, it's just the song would be comically inappropriate) Can you imagine, you've just delivered your first child and you bust out with Baby Got Back! There is no way that the doctor and nurses wouldn't start singing with you because that song is infectious. The whole delivery room would be a chorus of "So fellas! YEAH! Fellas! YEAH! Has your girlfriend got the butt? HELL YEAH!"

And finally the last question is not much of a question but I love it none the less. "IMPORTANT: My code word for pain relief is [Blank]" I can pick any word I want and if I shout it out the drugs will be given. ANY WORD! This is so exciting. I'm thinking Neil Patrick Harris will be my word "Bring me my Neil Patrick Harris NOW!" but I'm open to other suggestions. So bring it on, what would you yell out if you really wanted drugs and were trying to keep your sense of humor in tact while squeezing a watermelon through a tiny hole?

he's not crazy, just a little misunderstood

As I previously mentioned, jparks got some new headphones for his computer and now he can play his computer game or rock out to whatever music he wants without disturbing my television viewing schedule. Of course, the downside is that when he does rock out I can't hear the music, but I can hear this:


Unfortunately he wasn't chair dancing while singing which is probably a good thing since I'm not sure the world is ready for that level of awesome. And that heavy breathing is me trying not to laugh so he won't turn around and catch me taping him. My favorite thing about this video, which happens all the time when jparks sings, is that he can't remember half the lyrics and kind of mumbles his way through them.

In case you're curious, the song is Misunderstood by Better than Ezra and it's honestly a really good song when performed by actual musicians.

and the lamb fell in love with a chihuahua

On Sunday jparks and I went to Best Buy so he could get some fancy Bluetooth headphones so he could play his newest online video game obsession in comfort and so that I could pick up a copy of Twilight on dvd. Shut up, Robert Pattinson is hot and I have a strange love for cheesy movies. And did I mention that Pattinson is hot?

Of course jparks could not let me just buy the movie without some input from him. Input in the form of many sarcastic remarks about how I'm secretly still a 16 year old goth girl and how I wish I were also a vampire. Seriously, the boy has some nerve to make fun of me because I would never make fun of him. But I'm not going to lie, high school me would have loved the Twilight movie with all her heart and would never dare call it cheesy or poorly acted. This was proven to me when I found the following quote on the back of the dvd's packaging "The most epic romance since Titanic" -Hollywood.com

There are no words for how much I loved Titanic back in the day. I was working at a movie theatre when it came out and I'm fairly certain I saw it once a weekend. I would also spend part of my lunch breaks sitting in on various showings, not carrying at what point I was walking in on the movie. My best friend and I even convinced one of our teachers to come with us to a showing of Titanic. I remember how the teacher looked at us like we were nuts afterward, as we looked at her like she was the freak for not loving every second of the movie. Now I understand that Titanic was a really horrible movie and I think I might owe my teacher the $6 it cost her to go see it.

As we walked out of Best Buy into the sun jparks remarked "This is the skin of a killer! twinkle" complete with jazz hands near his chest to represent twinkling skin. We both had a good laugh, because that line right there is probably one of the best lines in the movie. Then you add in the twinkle effect they used for vampire skin and omg, the cheese is overwhelming. Of course, jparks and I spent the rest of the day making jazz hand twinkles at each other. And we laughed about this until we took Lily out and discovered Vampire Dog!



I had considered radioactive spiders and kryptonite, but I had never considered that she could be the bad guy instead of the hero. At least now I feel safe because if I'm ever walking her and a car jumps the curb and comes barreling at me, I'll be safe in her tiny little vampire paws.

like house arrest but not court ordered

Today and yesterday I've been stuck at home all day. Today I was stuck because the Salvation Army was coming to pick up some furniture and yesterday I have no recollection of why I was stuck here. Seriously, I know I had to be here for most of the day, but I have no idea why and my calendar is offering no insight into the situation. Could it have been that I was stuck due to my own laziness and I just didn't want to shower? That doesn't seem right, but who the hell knows. Anyway. I've been stuck inside for two days now and I might be losing my mind a little bit. The idea of a trip to Target is so exciting that I might just pee a little bit when I go tomorrow.

Today not only was I stuck a the house, but I couldn't shower, so I spent the morning lounging in a tee shirt that is growing increasingly too small in the stomach region. Since I was in a tight shirt (which is not nearly as sexy as jparks is currently imagining) I decided to do the dreaded "stand sideways and see how much weight I've put on" stance and that's when I realized that I might be carrying this kid in my ass. Don't get me wrong, in the past few days my stomach has started to pop out and the days of my weight going down from puking are now solidly behind me. But that doesn't mean my ass needs to be expanding at this rate. I think what I have going on is that the placenta might be growing split in two, with a piece in each ass cheek. Has that ever happened before? If not, imagine the media coverage I'll get!

The whole expanding ass has caused me to think that maybe I should be getting some exercise. I've been meaning to go to some prenatal yoga classes but did you know that the people giving those classes want money for them? And lately I've been freaking out about money and the thought of paying for a yoga class that I don't really want to attend seems frivolous. I mean, can't I just get a prenatal yoga dvd from netflix and get the same results? Plus I then wouldn't have to go to the yoga center and take a class with all the other preggos that look like they've swallowed a basketball and who's asses aren't placenta filled.

Speaking of fat asses, you'll have to excuse the lack of ending here because a key lime pie is calling to me from the kitchen and I'm going to have to answer its call immediately. And don't think this is a pregnancy related calling, because key lime pie calls must always be answered no matter the state of your uterus.

dancing with the stars!

Recently I've noticed that everyone and their mother watches the Bachelor and Rock of Love Bus. (Seriously, click on that Rock of Love link. Those are some of the sluttiest looking girls I have ever seen. And looking at their boobs makes my boobs hurt.) While I'm sure those are two quality television shows, I just can't bring myself to watch them, although I'm sure as soon as jparks clicks through to the Rock of Love girls he'll be begging me to add that to the tivo rotation.

Don't get me wrong, I love crappy tv shows and my newest addiction is pretty bad in its own right. Last week the new season of Dancing With The Stars debuted and I am hooked. I never watched past seasons, but they really sucked me in this year with the Woz as a contestant. Who doesn't want to see an overweight, Segway riding, computer geek dance? NO ONE, that's who! Check it:



He is so bad, but he tries so hard. And look at him, he's having a blast! That makes for the best contestant a reality show like this could ever hope for. On last week's episode he was the lowest rated dancer by the judges, which is just sad, but I don't think that's enough to get him voted off. The audience is encouraged to call and vote for their favorites and I don't think I have ever called in to a show to cast my ballot (I do not watch America Idol) but I did it for the Woz. And I'm really hoping that Apple is currently holding paychecks of employees unless they call in and vote for their man. Come on Apple people, support one of your own!

And while we're talking about DWTS, if I find out that anyone out there voted for Denise Richards, I will knife you. That crazy bitchShe needs to go before she starts thinking that she's still hot and that society still likes her.

sadly, I am easily amused

Over in the side bar I have a "more from BlogHer" thing and the other day one of my post appeared there, like this:


I think they picked me just so they could have that in their widget.

Today I got a link to a cat grooming place in my gmail toolbar and I clicked through to discover this:


There is just so much wrong with that: use of the word panty, the toilet paper stuck to the cat's butt in the before picture, and the anus in the after picture.

If you're wondering, no, I don't get out of the house much anymore. And other than jparks, I don't get much direct human interaction. Someone save me please.

lock up your daughters

Guess what today was? It was "Find Out The Sex Of The Baby" Day. Otherwise known as "Regan Was Right And jparks Should Just Always Trust Her From Now On" Day.

I've been saying from the minute I got knocked up that this baby is a boy. Then when we started working on names and the girls' name list grew longer and longer and the boys' name list sat idly by with no possibilities, I told jparks that we were guaranteeing that the baby would be a boy. Whenever jparks would go all gooey eyed over our friends' daughters, I would remind him that I maybe he should be open to the idea that our kid could have a penis. Each time I mentioned this potential penis to jparks, he would respond with a laugh and a reminder that we couldn't be sure it was a boy just yet.

Well, today we found out it's a boy. Today should be about how I now know I'm going to be a mother to a son, but really it's about how hell yes, I AM SO RIGHT! Of course, that doesn't help us with the fact that we have no names for boys, but maybe I can convince jparks to let me name him My-Mom-Was-Right Burniece Parks. That way his first name is a tribute to me and he shares his father's middle name. That's a win-win naming situation if there ever was one.

I should probably also mention that the ultrasound tech was only 85% certain that it's a boy. So this whole situation could blow up in my face, but I really doubt that will happen. Because I just feel like I have a tiny penis in me and I know what that feels like seeing as how I'm married to jparks. I swear, that joke will not get old no matter how many times I hear it over the next 22 weeks.

feline trouble

So I used to have a cat on prozac. I eventually weaned her off of it because while at first the prozac was a miracle cure, after a few months she started to pick up her old habits again and the cost plus the annoyance of the administering it was no longer worth it. I've had her off prozac for about six months but for the last two of those, Crazy Molly has come back with a vengeance. She causes me to come very close to a breakdown on a daily basis and I am really running out of ideas for how to handle this.

It started when we had the stairs leading down to the garage and the litter box closet redone. For about a week the cats couldn't walk on the stairs and we had to move the litter boxes to the guest room. This change was apparently too much for her to handle because she started peeing on anything located near the litter box. This included, but is possibly not limited to: bathmats, dirty clothes, carpet, and any other fucking thing in sight. Seriously, on Friday I found a couple of sweaters that were waiting to go to the cleaners that she doused in pee. While I was picking those up I walked in on her peeing on a bathmat and, I swear, when she was done peeing she laughed at me. LAUGHED.

Besides peeing on things that fit in the washing machine, Molly has ruined the carpet in the guest bedroom. We're about to start converting that to the nursery and, after painting the room, we're going to have to have the carpet ripped out and replaced. But once I have the carpet replaced, how do I prevent it from getting ruined again? How do I get Molly to start acting like a normal cat again? And what if I can't get her back there?

The vet determined there is nothing physically wrong with her and that it's all mental. I could give prozac another try but I doubt the benefits will last more than a few months. Once the carpet is replaced in the nursery, she can not pee in there but it's not as simple as keeping the door closed. I'm thinking that locking the baby into the room might count as abuse or something. I've had Molly for 10 years now and sometimes find myself thinking "How many more years can she possibly have in her?" but honestly that cat is as healthy as could be and shows no signs of her age. Jparks and I often joke that she'll out live us, and at this point I'm not so certain that won't happen.

Short of kicking her to the curb, what can I do?

a decision has been made!

I know you've been on the edge of your seat wondering what I plan on doing with that big blank wall in my living room. It's okay to admit it, I find it flattering that you care that much.

I really thought long and hard about the collage wall idea, but in the end I'm just not creative enough to do that. I don't have the eye required to pick out pieces that are different but cohesive. And unless someone out there is hella bored and willing to do that part for me, (picking out the frames is also something I am not capable of doing and would have to outsource) I'm skipping the collage. So where does that leave me and my boring living room?

The day after I made that post a new CB2 catalog arrived. I was mindlessly thumbing through it when I found this picture:



Holy crap, WANT! Now I'm on the hunt for a picture I can blow up and stick in those frames. I originally wanted something New Orleans-ish, but after searching stock photo sites and coming up empty handed and then searching etsy only to fall in love with various pictures, but have sellers not willing to sell me the file (not surprising) I have decided that maybe now is not the time to be picky. And besides, it would be super easy to change the picture if I find something perfect later.

I also picked up some paint sample cards because I am having that wall painted a color other than Bonjour Beige. And if it doesn't cost too much, I might have some of the other walls painted as well. Who knew that painting the first floor of my house various shades of brown would turn out to be so boring? Looking back on the color decisions we made originally, I see that we put all the color upstairs where we spend very little time and guests almost never go. Yeah, we're smart like that.

I really thank you for your input on the original post and love knowing that I can count on you to come through for me when I need advice. Stick around because we find out the sex of the baby next week and that means it's time to start decorating the nursery. There's no way in hell I'm capable of doing that without your help unless I want the baby to grow up in a muddy sea of brown.

possibly not aging with grace

I started dying my hair the day school let out for the summer in 9th grade. I dyed it blackest black (really, that's what it was called) and boy was that a mistake. Did you know that semi-permanent black hair dye that says it washes out in 30 washes does not, in fact, wash out? At the time I loved my black hair, but looking back on it now I can see how it was not really that awesome. Pale girl + black hair = one super goth looking girl even before she realized that wearing all black clothing was an option.

After I grew out all the black dye, I moved on to reds. I'm fairly certain I have tried every shade of red dye available at your local drugstore, including ones that were in no way natural looking. Eventually I settled on one that really worked for me and rocked that until a few years ago when I realized that I had really fine hair because of my dye jobs. (not that having it professionally dyed would have made it any better) I had what my stylist called a chemical cut, where hair was being burned off around my hairline and the new growth was slowly coming in, causing some nasty cow licks. The only way to deal with this issue was to stop dying my hair and let it heal itself over time, so that's what I did.

Now my hair is healthier and thicker than it has been in 15 years (not that it's thick, just thicker than before) and it's also back to its natural boring brown. I've got to say I was a bit surprised by how brown it is because after dying it for so long I had convinced myself that it had actual red in it. In my defense, I have the coloring for red hair and people always assumed my hair was actually red, so you can see how I managed to trick myself. And while I dislike the brown, what I dislike even more is all the gray hairs that are growing in. Holy hell, I have a lot of gray hair.

My mom has dyed her hair for as long as I can remember causing me to have no idea how much gray she has. For all we know she might be 100% gray at this point. Same thing with my grandmother. And much like making myself think I really had red hair, it was easy to look at them and think "Well they aren't gray, so I'll probably not go gray either." Yet here I am at 29 with more grays than I am comfortable with. And I am feeling rather alone in my gray hairedness because jparks? Not a gray hair on his head. (insert "not a hair on his head at all" joke here)

Seriously, it's time to confess, do you have gray hairs? Are you growing old gracefully and not dying them? Or are you fighting the aging process with regular trips to the salon? Should I start dying my hair again? Is it possible to have gray hairs and still be young and hip, or should I just give up now? Someone help me because today I cut one of my gray hair very close to my scalp because it was too obvious. (cut as opposed to pulling it out because I do not need two to grow back in its place) Never mind the fact that the other gray hairs are just as obvious, this one was a bad seed and was mocking me. It needed to be stopped. But if I continue to cut them out, I will be bald by next weekend and I'm thinking that covering up a bald head is much more difficult than covering up some grays.

Also, if any male out there chimes in about how his gray hairs aren't aging him, but rather turning him distinguished, there is a good chance I will come after you and shave off your eyebrows.