Um, yeah, about this whole blog thing

I was just telling Husband that I need to write a blog post, but I don't really wanna. It used to be that I wanted to write posts all the time but never had any inspiration. Now I've got a ton of interesting things to blog about, but I'm just not really feeling it. No one ever leaves comments, except for someone I don't know named Mr. Shain. And at this rate I think I need to let go of my dream of selling the rights to my blog to Fox so they can make it into a crappy sitcom.

In summary, without the promise of validation from my friends or a financial windfall, what's really left? Sadly, internal motivation is not a strength of mine. Who knows, this may just be a crazy menstrual episode I will regret later, but right now it seems like I need to break up with this blog.

It's not you, it's me.

I'm really feeling that this will be the right decision for us both in the long run.

Oh, to be free! I should have done this ages ago.

But we did have some good times.



Call me!

I don't know what you did tonight, but I bet it wasn't nearly as classy as watching a fat kid fart on Shaquille O'Neal repeatedly.

I'm so glad we have the DVR. A little background: apparently Shaquille O'Neal has a new reality show where he is a counselor at a camp for fat kids.

HUSBAND: Did that kid just fart on Shaq?
WIFE: What?
HUSBAND: [uses rewind feature to replay commercial for new fat camp show]
SHAQ: You can't be fartin' on me now, Walter. [as he's holding Walter Fat Kid's ankles during fart-inducing sit-ups]
WIFE: Oh my God, did you just rewind so you could hear that kid fart on Shaq again?
HUSBAND: Uh, yeah I did!
WIFE: But why?
HUSBAND: Oh my God, that's hysterical. I would love to fart on Shaq!
WIFE: Seriously? I just do not understand you.
HUSBAND: [shrug]
WIFE: [signs on to blog]

FYI, I deleted the fart noises Husband made during the conversation because, as the proud owner of a uterus, I am unable to transcribe fart noises using the English alphabet.

I'm bored.

For the third day in the past week I am sitting here waiting for a serviceman to arrive. This time (just like last time) I am waiting for the cable guy. As I mentioned before, we are switching from the 16 channel basic-ass cable package to glorious digital cable with a new DVR.

Except right now I don't even have the 16 channels. On his way out the door Husband unhooked the cable and removed our old VCR to make room for the new DVR on the shelf. This bothers me for several reasons...

1. Isn't that the cable guy's job? This is the second four hour block of time I have set aside this week to wait for the guy, so I'm not feeling too much like I need to bend over backwards to help him out. And while I cannot begin to make sense of the tangle of wires behind the TV, Husband can trust me to repeat the sentence, "Just swap the VCR out for the DVR."
2. I missed Ellen and now I am missing the hour when I flip back and forth between The Price is Right and Joy telling Elisabeth to shut the %&^$ up on The View.
3. I know I can go in the bedroom but that's the little TV and the remote doesn't work even though I just replaced the batteries, so how exactly am I supposed to flip between the Showcase Showdown and the Joy/Elisabeth smackdown? Does Husband expect me to get up off the bed? As if.
   
4. On a serious note, why do we inconvenience the ones closest to us for the benefit of strangers? I do it to Husband too, so I can't really complain. But I can think of tons of people in my life who do the exact same thing. It just seems easier to disappoint the people you love because you don't have to explain it to them and they have to love you anyway. I should tell Husband that we should stop doing that.
   

The cable guy just called to say he's on his way. Yippee! Food Network soon!

Google Image Search: Babies

This is the very first image result when you Google "babies." It's also the #2 result for "creepy babies." These are little babies made of marzipan. For those of you who don't have a baking fetish like I do, marzipan is a sugar-almond paste that is used to make little decorations on fancy cakes.

I'm trying to picture a cake with these babies on it. I assume it would be for a baby shower, because I can't think of another time when having a baby-themed cake would be even a little bit okay. So imagine we are at a baby shower. The fat lady has just opened all the gifts, and everyone oohed and ahhed at the soft, tiny little booties and onesies. A little girl is running around with a bunch of clothespins she collected from people who accidentally said "baby." And now it's time for cake. It's a beautiful fancy cake filled with raspberry mousse and covered with... little... marzipan... babies. How does the hostess cut into that without feeling a tinge homicidal? Do you eat the babies? Or do you just eat around them, leaving a little pile of eerily life-like candy babies face-down in the icing, waiting for a slightly larger marzipan CSI team to come investigate the cause of death?

How is that not creepy? How does it not give the mother-to-be nightmares about accidentally eating her baby? In short, who thought this would be a good idea?

Dum Dum Da Dum

So we went to a quite fancy wedding this weekend. Here's a scene from the bathroom at Husband's parents' house as we were getting ready...

ME: Ugh, my hair is just not working!
HUSBAND: You look beautiful.
ME: Don't tell me I look good when I don't.
HUSBAND: Your hair looks great.
ME: DON'T LIE TO ME! I know you are lying.
HUSBAND: Um, sorry.
WIFE: [Turns on hair dryer.]

Poor guy. Momentary hair crisis aside, the wedding was very nice and I could tell that Husband was really excited to see all his college friends in one place, an event unlikely to happen again soon as there are no more weddings on the immediate horizon. It's a shame because I have grown to quite enjoy Husband's friends, who have been very welcoming to me. Husband and I even danced. That is only the second time that has ever happened, the first being our own wedding. I think the bottomless wine glass had something to do with it.

16 channels and nothing on

So I am waiting for the electrician to come and wire our garage for new garage door openers. They said between 8 and noon, and it is now 11:37. I have spent the last three hours and 37 minutes flipping through the 20 or so channels we currently get with our Very Basic cable package. Here’s a sampling…

2 – Dr. Keith Ablow. Psychic twins say Princess Diana’s death was definitely a conspiracy but they can’t tell us who is behind it. Those teases!

3 – A commercial for Smokey’s Mo’s BBQ. I used to eat that all the time when I worked in Round Rock. I would get a baked potato and cut up some turkey to put on top. Mmmmm. Do you want me to tell you more about what I used to eat for lunch last year? Or is that too exciting?

4 – Pat Robertson is on everyday at 11 a.m. His show is disguised to look like a news show. Every day he spotlights a different person living the good Christian life. Right now he is featuring a guy named “Dell” who plays the banjo. He says he really enjoys “touching the audience when I perform.” That doesn’t sound very Christian.

5 – A commercial for lap band surgery. There is a lady in the kitchen and a lion roaring in the next room. I’m not sure what a lion has to do with getting obesity surgery. Maybe when you are fat lions follow you around and try to eat you.

7 – TV Guide Chanel. A show called the Fashion Team is on the top half of the screen. There is a gay guy and a girl who looks vaguely familiar and Hayden Panettiere from Heroes is trying on t-shirts.

8 – Crap local version of CNN. The lunch break forecast is sponsored by Lights Fantastic.

9 – Everyday at this time PBS has a chow called Sit and Get Fit with Mary Anderson. She is a senior gal who wears scrunchy socks and does “exercises” like the elbow rock and the hand wave. Apparently later in life waving will feel like exercise.

10 – Cable access for our town. On September 14 at 8:00 we could go watch Flushed Away at the park.

12 – If teaching doesn’t work out I could go to something called Virginia College in the hood and learn to be a vet tech. And then I could earn $8.50 per hour.

13 – Univision is fantastic. Every time I flip through there is a very pretty drag queen and several small Hispanic men trying to work their way out of some sort of calamity. “Ay dios mio!” I am not disappointed today.

19 – Some kind of weird public access channel. There is a guy saying that if you want to tell if someone is lying you should listen to their voice and not look at their face. And there is a typewriter on the desk behind him, so clearly this is cutting edge research.

20 – The other PBS station. There is a lady stuffing vegetable matter under the skin of a raw chicken, which would be pretty normal. Except that she appears to be grilling this chicken up at Stone Henge. No, for real.

21 – WGN. There is a guy who looks like a cop talking to a guy who looks like a mobster. And the mob guy keeps snorting, so I think he’s on coke. By the way, this is a fictional show, although the description could be from the WGN news. It is in Chicago, after all.

22 – Staticky noise and a freeze frame of Mac Brown at a press conference. It was from back last season when he had that herpes on his lip. The weird thing is that this exact same shot has been on since at least last night. Technical difficulties, much?

24- QVC is offering a “Choice of Diamonique 1.65 ct tw Double Link Rolo Bracelets, 14k. Retail Price: $602, QVC Price: $504, Introductory Price $462.” Oh my God, I love a deal! And I can break it up into three easy payments of only $154, and S&H is free! There is a really sad sounding lady on the phones who is buying this as a birthday present… for herself.

25 – HSN has a gay guy with overly manicured eyebrows who is way too excited about the mattress pad they are currently featuring.

The bad news is that I get to do this again on Monday. The good news is that I will be waiting for the cable guy, who is hooking up real, 100+ channel, digital cable! With a DVR! We are rejoining the civilized world after a year-long experiment. It turns out without real cable we do watch more PBS but don't read or go for walks together any more often. So overall, we might as well rot our brains with delightful cable.

Well, it’s 12:05 now. I must call the electrician and tell them not to bother. I have to go dress shopping, again.

Can I start a fitting room for you?

I just spent about four hours non-stop-shopping. I went in search of a dress to wear to a wedding that Husband is in this weekend. I was excited about this shopping trip because it's the first time since starting grad school that I've felt comfortable spending whatever I feel like on an article of clothing. No more choosing between the two dresses in my size on the TJ Maxx sale rack.

But today was like that first time Julia Roberts goes shopping in Pretty Woman. Except instead of snooty sales girls, it was the dresses themselves conspiring against me. Here's why: (1) All the dresses seemed to come in size 4 or size 12. There is no amount of sucking in that could allow me to fit in a 4. Apparently I should have stayed fat, because if I were still a size 12 I would be set. (2) I don't want to wear a cotton dress to a fancy wedding, or a long dress because I'm not entering a pageant. That leaves about 7% of the dresses in stores right now for me to consider. (3) Summer dresses are not made for girls with boobs. They are cut so bra straps show and it's just not an option for me to go braless. Apparently I can duct tape my boobs together but the removal part scares me.

So now I don't even want to go. Not that I'm not really happy for the couple and everything. But I have literally looked everywhere I can think of and I have nothing to wear. I spent four hours at the mall and I left with two oven mitts to replace the ones Husband ruined with melted cheese (on a side note, I love how Husband makes things with melted cheese overflowing). So right now my options are wearing nothing but two very snazzy new oven mitts, or digging something out of the Goodwill bag in the garage. I hate how men can just wear pants everywhere. Those bastards.

Babies Babies Babies Babies Babies Babies

I have had babies on the brain a lot lately. It started a couple of weeks ago when circumstances in my life (being around numerous pregnant women, celebrating our first anniversary, having a lot of free time on my hands) created some sort of perfect estrogen storm. Since then my ovaries have been dancing around my abdomen singing, "Hello there, old married lady. Remember us? We're ready when you are!"

So Husband and I have had several discussions lately about when exactly we will be ready to take my ovaries up on their offer. While Husband is unwavering in his position that "sometime later" would be the perfect time to have a baby, I have been a little more indecisive.

Sunday 5/20, 5:47 p.m. - Some friends of ours had a baby three weeks ago and we met him last Sunday. He's really, really cute. No, for real. He's not all squishy and red like most little babies. I tell Husband that I would want a baby if I knew it would be as cute as that one.

Monday 5/21, 2:37 a.m. - Dog wants out. I want to be asleep. I'm not sure about this whole baby thing just yet.

Monday 5/21, 4:45 p.m. - I accepted a job for next year, and having a baby my first year of teaching would be way more that I can handle. Ovaries will just have to understand.

Tuesday 5/22, 7:30 p.m. - We run into aforementioned cute baby and his parents at a restaurant. Oh my God, he is even cuter than two days ago. On the way home I put my head Husband's shoulder, stroke his forearm, and describe to him exactly how tiny the baby is. "His little bottom would just fit in my hand," I say, holding my cupped palm in the air for emphasis.

Wednesday 5/23, 1:45 p.m. - Another teacher brings her two month-old baby to school, and he is not that cute. I am confronted with the cold reality that my baby may not be as cute as our friends' baby. I know all babies are beautiful, blah, blah, blah. But I want a legitimately cute baby, not a Muppet cute baby with floppy ears or a big nose. Am I ready to parent an average looking baby? It's a very real possibility I had not previously considered. Hmmmm.

Thursday 5/24, 4:52 a.m. - I just woke up to the sound of Dog gagging. I was going to just go back to sleep, but Husband woke up to check on Dog. Now I have to pretend I didn't just decide to let the dog barf sit on the floor until morning. I have to be all concerned about the Dog and clean up the barf. I think when babies wake up and barf in the middle of the night you can't just go back to sleep. I think you are supposed to clear their airway or something. I am so not ready to have a baby.

That's pretty much where we stand right now. I am totally ready to have a baby in the sense that I know exactly what crib bedding I would buy and I have names picked out. But I am not at all ready to give up sleep and the freedom to travel or my career just yet. Also, I am scared that my baby might not be cute. I think I will be ready to have a baby when I have rational concerns, like my baby being healthy and smart. We are thinking that might happen around the summer of '09. So there you have it. Now if I get pregnant before then everyone will know our baby was an accident.

Google Image Search: Marriage

I've taken a cue from this post and resorted to random Google image searches for blog post inspiration. It works like this: I will search for a marriage-related or other relevant phrase and then post the most interesting picture I find on the first page of search results, along with whatever witty remarks I can think of. Today's word is "marriage."

This reminds me of that part in Bridget Jones' Diary when she is eating ice cream and drinking vodka while watching late night TV. There is a nature show on and the narrator says something like, "Coitus is brief and perfunctory..." It's right after she realized that Daniel Cleever has loved her and left her. And then she sings,"All By Myself" in her flannel jammies. I watched that movie a lot pre-Husband.

The actual point of this picture on the original site is something like this is before marriage, and after marriage the lioness is all, "I have headache. Don't touch me." Just in case you were wondering.

I have a job

It is not my ideal job, but it is a job, and that's fantastic. Mostly because it means I can stop looking for a damn job. But it is in my chosen district, so if I hate it I can always transfer (or get pregnant!). Husband is annoyed because I had multiple offers and in his world I could leverage that and get paid a buttload of money. But in my world it just means that I don't have to look for a job anymore. Did I mention that?

Husband is all cute about it. I called and told him so he left work early to go on "errands" he wouldn't share with me. I asked if he was at the diamond store and he said no. He did go buy me a CD, some really pretty flowers, wine, and all the stuff to make twice-baked-potatoes. Now he's wearing his Longhorn apron and making me dinner. I think he's also celebrating the beginning of combined household income.

Hey, does anyone need 99 plain white 9x13 envelopes? I bought a box of 100 to send out resumes and I've used exactly one.

I should start a "Dear Wife" advice column

Below is an email from a bride friend, along with my experienced wife response. I thought our friend who is getting married in 12 days and who swears she reads the blog might appreciate it.

ok, so have a few questions/thoughts

1. when did weddings start to be about everyone else but the bride and groom

You know, my dad told me that weddings are like funerals - they are for the family, not the guest of honor. After going through the process, I see what he means.

2. the comment "whatever you two want to do." has become a phrase that means nothing. its really what everyone else wants

"Whatever you want to do" is a very passive aggressive statement. The only way to combat it is to go ahead and do whatever you want. If that person (mom or mother-in-law I'm guessing?) really wants their way they should be a grown up and say so. I think "screw you" is a great motto for the bride.

3. is it a bad thought to just want this whole wedding thing to be over with, you don't care what everyone wears, who is there or what the cake tastes like, you just want it over and hearing a mariachi band play pada-dadadadada, dadadadada, padadadadada dadadada. (which means a suite and a jacuzzi in mexico with no family present.)

Later you will be glad you had a wedding. Like a year later. We just had our anniversary a week or so ago and I am just now over hating the wedding experience. So hang in there. In late 2008 you will be glad you did this.

Tonight was delightful

Tonight Husband and I went to dinner for our friend who just/finally graduated from college. I'm not really sure how to explain how awesome it was, except that her mom's toast was, "I'm glad you finally finished something." The food was about the best dinner I've ever had and I had multiple really good cocktails. Everyone at the table was super fun and entertaining. Like we were the least fabulous people there, and we are pretty freaking fabulous.

OMG, TMI!

I got the following email from a friend the other day..

So I have a UTI and I went to the doctor and she went on and on about how teachers get UTIs a lot because they don't pee enough or drink enough. I was like "I'm not a teacher." But I thought I would pass along her warning to you since you actually are a teacher.

See, aren't you glad I'm around?

It reminded me of an unpleasant trip to the student health center my freshman year in college...

ME: I have to pee all the time and it really hurts.
NURSE: Sounds like a urinary tract infection. Have you had intercourse recently?
ME: No. (What I'm really thinking: It's March and I have yet to meet a straight man here. This is the f*cking Village, after all.)
NURSE: Nothing has been bumping up against the area? (Demonstrates what bumping means by smacking her hands together, in case I managed to get into a prestigious university without ever encountering that particular verb.)
ME: Um, no. Is there some kind of prescription you can write or something?
NURSE: You should refrain from having sex, or letting anything bump up against your vulva, until you are done with these antibiotics.
ME: Sure thing.

I hope you enjoyed this post. I wrote it instead of preparing for the job interview I have tomorrow. Wish me luck!

This Weekend

Things that were cool...

• Husband and I celebrated our first anniversary on Sunday. It is nice to have that whole engaged/wedding/newlywed period of our lives behind us. Also, it's nice to have some distance between me and the wedding so I can look back on it with fond memories instead of with obsessive anger toward that bitch florist who screwed up the flowers and other inconsequential catastrophies of the day.
  
• We went out to the country for the weekend. It sounds more fun to say "out to the country," but really it was Bastrop. It was nice to drive away on Friday night and not worry about piles of laundry and papers to grade all weekend.
• We drank a lot and slept a lot. Coincidence?

Things that were not cool...

• We got spa treatments on our trip. This should have been a thing that was cool, but it wasn't. First I had a frustrating discussion with the massage therapist about whether or not I could have the treatment I had booked. It wasn't really an arguement, but one of those conversations that went around and around and around because the other party lacks basic reasoning skills. And then during the massage she kept asking me if I was thinking relaxing thoughts, but with a decidedly accusatory tone, as if she could tell I wasn't. She asked this every time I coughed. So during my massage I thought two thoughts, neither of which were relaxing: "Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap I can't think of anything relaxing," and, "Don'tcoughDon'tcoughDon'tcoughDon'tcough."
• Husband and I came home to find all that laundry and work we had so breezily tossed in the middle of the living room floor before we left, so we ordered pizza tonight instead of cooking dinner. This was ill-advised, especially after a weekend of eating junk food non-stop. Husband threw away the leftover pizza but for some reason left the cheese sticks on the table. There was more than half an order from Papa John's left, which is a fairly large quantity. We went to the grocery store so I could buy juice and cookies for school tomorrow, and Dog got to the remaining cheese sticks and ate all of them. I am so disgusted, but I think Husband is secretly impressed. I just had to get up mid-post to usher a gagging dog out the back door. Now he is looking at me with sad puppy eyes, but I can't even look back. There is a distinctive cheese stick smell coming from his direction.
  

Totally out of context quote

I'm toying with the idea of making this a regular feature on Maridull Bliss. I think we need some regular features so we don't have to actually think of original ideas so much. Tonight's entry...

"I'm the Queeeeeen! Wing the dingy!" -Husband

Good movies and wine

1. We saw Hot Fuzz tonight and it was really good. I have a crush on that British guy now. Simon something. He's cute and funny and hot all at once. Just like Husband!

2. There was a preview for Knocked Up and it looks surprisingly great. I thought Katherine Heigl would be annoying outside of Grey's Anatomy but she looks tolerable. But also it's a Judd Apatow movie and one of my favorite shows ever is Freaks and Geeks. And it stars Seth Rogen and Jason Segal, whom I have adored since Freaks and Geeks. But most importantly Paul Rudd plays a supporting role. He says his marriage is like an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond but not funny and instead of lasting 22 minutes it will last the rest of his life. I [HEART] Paul Rudd.

3. I am not normally a big white wine drinker but Ferrari Carano's Fume Blanc is really, really good on a warm evening. We first tried it on our honeymoon and now they have it at World Market for about $15. You're welcome in advance.

Husband is an asshole

Today he cut one of Dog's nails too short and it bled.

WIFE: It's not bleeding that bad. Just hold a tissue over it and the bleeding will stop.
HUSBAND: I just feel so bad. I'm such a bad puppy parent.
WIFE: It's not even bleeding that much. Don't feel bad. It was bound to happen sometime.
HUSBAND: I know, but when it happened I wanted it... to... be...
WIFE: Be what?! My fault?
HUSBAND: Yeah, I wanted you to do it so he would still love me. You've got the cat on your side. I need one pet to like me.
WIFE: Argh! I can't believe I tried to make you feel better. You know damn well that Cat doesn't like me either.

Lies! All lies!

Husband and I went to Dallas this weekend to attend a party for some friends who are getting married next month. The couple just relocated together and Wife-to-Be was telling us how fabulous it is being engaged and living together and how she's heard it feels different to be married but she just can't imagine how their lives will change. And our response was something like, "Bah! That's what we thought too! Bwaahaahaa!"

We realized that we have a problem with relationship TMI, and we need to get our story straight on this whole marriage thing. People we haven't seen in awhile always ask, "How's married life?" We say something like, "Great... definitely good... well much better than the first few months, that's for sure!" Or if I don't know them very well I say, "Getting better everyday," and inside I think, "Thank God!"

I think most people are just making conversation and don't expect to hear a detailed answer. Any response but "Super!" is kind of socially inept. Apparently every couple actually is super, or maybe their relationship is in crisis and they are doing everything they can to keep that a secret. We are kind of in that gray area in between. There's nothing we need to hide from our friends, but it seems disingenuous to act like being married automatically solves all your problems. In fact, that's a big lie propagated in our society, and I think it's part of the reason that adjusting to being somebody's wife was difficult for me, and for other women I know.

So let me take this opportunity to tell it like it is. Married life is great... now. At first it kind of sucked. The first few months are an adjustment, and it's hard to explain how or why. The best I can do is this: pre-marriage I would wake up in the morning and look over at Husband still asleep and I would think, "Oh isn't he adorable. Soon I will wear a pretty dress and there will be pretty flowers and we will eat cake and dance. People will send us stemware and then we will have babies and love each other forever!" (I know that all sounds trite but I couldn't help myself. I tried. I read The Conscious Bride. But the Wedding Propaganda Machine took over my body.) Shortly after the wedding I looked over at Husband sleeping and thought, "Why the hell is he still asleep? It's not fair I have to get up at 6 a.m. and he's still asleep. That bastard. And I get to watch him snore every morning for the REST OF MY LIFE." And I believe that those are acceptable feelings to have before dawn, but it didn't feel like it at the time because we were supposed to be lovey-dovey newlyweds.

Whatever Mischa Barton!

That's my favorite thing ever overheard at a Target. A year or so ago I was wandering through the clothing department of Target around 10 a.m. on a Wednesday. There were two girls, maybe 14, browsing the clearance rack. They had a very J-Lo Fly-Girl-Era Porta Reecan look about them, but I live in Texas so probably they were just Mexican. Anyway, one of them held up an ivory lacey peasant sort of top and gave her friend the non-verbal "what do you think about this one" expression. The other one said "Whatevah Mischa Bahton!" I like to think there was a snap too (like in the air, not on the blouse) but that may be wishful remembering. Of course, being a nerdy teacher I almost asked them if they shouldn't be in school. Almost.

That really doesn't have much to do with being married except that it's one of the many random phrases Husband and I throw around for fun. I thought of it when I saw this picture on Go Fug Yourself.

I have never seen such an unsexy article of clothing draw so much attention to the vajayjay region. I know they say money doesn't buy happiness, a theory I refuse to accept until I've had the chance to test it personally. But thanks to Mischa Barton there is one thing I know for sure money won't buy: the ability to determine which fashion trends are suitable for your body type. For example, I would have known that thigh-accentuating Urkel pants would not flatter my hippy frame.

I can tell Husband looks down on me for obsessing about ways I am better than famous/rich people, but I don't care. I will go to bed feeling a little better about myself knowing that I never would have bought these pants.

Ka-chiiiing... D'oh!

Husband and I are about to get a relatively hefty tax return. Yay tuition credit! After we finished our taxes we were strutting around feeling very rich. Husband has been quoting that Chappelle's Show skit about all the black people getting slavery reparation checks on the same day. "I'm riiiiiich, biatch! I just bought this baby cash." And I have fallen asleep the past couple of nights imagining what our house would look like if it was redecorated by the Pottery Barn catalog stylists.

Then today we totaled up our wish list and realized that we have already mentally spent about seven and a half times what we will be getting back. Here's where all the imaginary money went:

• New garage doors and openers so we can park in the garage again. And also so we won't have to leave our trash can in the front yard anymore. Classy!
  
• I want to cut down the tree that is about to fall on our fence. Husband wants to cut down the tree that hangs over our driveway because he backed into it once and now it taunts him every morning. We agree on cutting down the dead one in the middle of the back yard.
• New floors because I can't even identify these stains in the carpet. They were here before me, which is grody.
• A bathroom redo so our guests don't feel like they are peeing inside a tuna can.
• I want to build a bunch of cabinets across the wall in our dining room so I can continue my obsession with acquiring dishes and serving platters I never use.
  
• Art for above the fireplace that Husband did not acquire from a hippy with a card table set up outside Jester Dorm in the late '90s.
• New living room sofa and love seat. And dining room table. And a pub table for the kitchen. And husband wants a leather recliner. Just generally furniture we didn't assemble ourselves.
  
• A functional overhead light in our living room.
  
• A new wardrobe for each of us. Husband because his old clothes are too big and me because I will surely get a job soon so I will need some cute career clothes. Dress for the job you want! It's a great justification for unemployed people to go shopping.

I think the lesson from this is never buy a house. We would just go to Hawaii or something if we didn't have this stupid home to improve.

What we learned this week

A few items of (possible) interest relating to me having a job now...

1. There is a lady at the school who wears lots of "teacher clothes" - jumpers that tie in the back, Keds with white socks folded down, wooden jewelry, etc. Actually the jumpers have a very homemade look, like perhaps she's like that Duggar lady on TV and she sews all the clothes for her 12 kids whose names all start with the same letter. Yesterday she was wearing a dress made out of... wait for it... wait for it... MY LITTLE PONY FABRIC!!!!! It looked just like this one I found online except pink. Oh sweet Lord I almost spewed Diet Dr Pepper all over her pastel pony-covered ass as I was walking down the hall behind her. I wanted to take a picture with my cell phone but I couldn't figure out how to do it without the simulated camera noise a foot away from her ass raising suspicion. It reminds me of this time at teacher school when our professor had us write on a piece of paper, "When I am a teacher I will never wear..." I think we were supposed to finish the sentence with "a push-up bra" or "a tube top" or "hot pants" because her point was that teachers should dress professionally if they are to be taken seriously. But I wrote "holiday-themed sweater vests." I didn't even know "clothes made from fabric featuring Mattel toys" was an option, or I totally would have picked that.
2. Here's the difference between being married 11 days and 11 months: This week I have been very busy and exhausted, and Husband has had a lot on his plate too. Last night we both acknowledged a general snippiness with each other that's been going on for a day or two. Instead of talking all about what that means, are we okay with each other, have we made a horrible mistake by rushing into marriage, blah, blah, blah, we just agreed not to bother being nice to each other for awhile and to regroup once we are in better moods. So much simpler!
   
3. I am addicted to Diet Dr Pepper. Like Trainspotting addicted. I take two cans with me every morning: one to chug on the drive in and another for lunch. The other morning Husband took the last two cold cans the day before and did not replace them with the reserves in the garage. So at 6:45 a.m. as I was preparing to leave for work I screamed at him from across the house. He stumbled in like a hungover freshman during a Jester fire drill thinking I had hurt myself or maybe the dog was eating shit again. I interrogated him about the situation and made a series of way passive-aggressive statements: "I guess I'll just have to drink a WARM Dr Pepper on my way to work this morning... I will have to put this WARM Dr Pepper in the lounge fridge so it will be COLD by lunchtime. I hope no one STEALS it... Hey could you get my Dr Pepper out of the freezer. I had to put it in there because it was HOT from being in the GARAGE instead of the FRIDGE." Then this morning we were completely out (here we come, Costco!) so I took a handful of change to buy some at school. But I only had 90 cents and the vending machine sells 20 oz. bottles and they cost a dollar. The day didn't go well. Let's just say I don't think it was fair to the children.
   

The In-Laws are coming into town this weekend, so I'm sure we will have something interesting to report on Monday.

Husband is going to have to start pulling his own weight around here

because I've got an almost-real job. I just took a long-term sub job, which means I will be the teacher until of the end of the school year because the last one got knocked up.

It's good news for several reasons. Primary among them is the $150 a day it pays. You loyal readers may remember that I previously made $63 a day, so this would be more. Still ridiculously little, but it will add up to almost $4,000 by the end of the year, after taxes. Husband and I plan to use the windfall on new flooring in our house. Although I'm not sure you can call it a windfall if you actually have to work for it.

Anyway, the point is I will be really busy and not paying any attention to Husband, so I will probably be able to post about an even smaller % of the stupid things he says/does. Like today, when he compared himself to McGyver because he fixed something on his car with string.

Imagine what I could do if I applied myself to something important

Last night I got a perfect 6 out of 6 on the People magazine "Pop Quiz: Who's That Celebutante." Husband played along too, but I totally smoked him. Here's an example:

WIFE: It says, "These stylin' sisters took their act on the road last summer to appear on Canada's MuchMusic TV."
HUSBAND: Uh, Jessica and Other Simpson?
WIFE: You suck! (A) Neither of these girls had big giant boobies pushed up to her chin, so it's definitely not Jessica Simpson, and (B) Neither of the Simpsons has stringy platinum hair like that girl on the right.
HUSBAND: Mmm, kay.

Hell Is Other People's Children

Today was Wife's friends' 8 year anniversary, so Wife volunteered us to go babysit their 2 year old twins and 9 month old baby. After this experience, I have a whole new appreciation for multiple levels of redundancy in birth control.

The scary thing is their kids are incredibly well behaved. There's no way our kids will be that nice to each other when they're 2, and certainly no way our 9 month old baby will ever just quietly amuse himself/herself for hours on end. It would be one thing if they were just miserable little shits that behaved horribly. Then we could just say, "Well, OUR kids won't be like that." But no, these kids were pretty great. So we have nowhere to go but downhill from this.

All bitching aside, it was actually kind of fun in a way. Their kids are sweet, and it was fun to test-drive the whole parenthood experience. It was like time-traveling to the future when we'll have kids, realizing "Oh shit, this changes every part of your life!" and then get to drive back home to blissful childless reality. Actually, it's more like being a juvenile delinquent and getting sentenced to spend a night in jail to be scared straight.

In honor of our friends (and our brief time in their shoes), I'd like to present the following Top 10 list of things I will really, really, really miss whenever we finally decide to start having kids:

1. Sleep
2. Quiet
3. Sex
4. Profanity
5. Going out to the movies
6. Spontaneity
7. Leaving the house
8. Relating to the outside world
9. Violent, profane TV shows
10. Not having to wipe anyone's ass but my own

Oh joy, Husband is all better

I can tell because he just poked me in the boob for fun. Also he's been singing "My Humps" in a very Alanis voice. Apparently when he's too sick to behave in his typical inappropriate and immature way he just saves it all for later. He seems to have some sort of weekly quota.

In other news, Cat appears to be hallucinating. She is currently hanging and upside down from a door frame with a wide-eyed feral look on her face. Husband is out of shoes to throw at her. It's bad news when we run out of things to throw at the cat because we are afraid of getting too close to her when she's in this state. Also neither of us seems at all motivated to put our shoes in the closet so there are always at least five pairs of shoes in our living room. I feel like sitting around watching Conan while tossing footwear at the cat is a very college apartment thing to do. I thought by now we would be more together or something.

Two things that have nothing to do with marriage

except that Husband and I both find them funny.

Alanis Morrissette's "My Humps" video...



My favorite website, Go Fug Yourself, offers insight into my favorite booty-licious singer...

BEYONCE: So what are you saying?

BEYONCE'S CONCERNED STAFF MEMBER: Those pants were in your dressing room for a reason.

BEYONCE: Pants?

Read the rest here.

Dear Husband,

I'm sorry I am not the kind of person who can pat you on the back while you barf. You had to have known that when you married me. I do want to take care of you when you are sick, but I am just not going to clean up your vomit. I did go to the store twice to get you Jello and saltines and soup, and I hope you see that as evidence of my love and devotion and not a desire to get out our germ-laden house.

I hear that once we have babies I will get over my aversion to vomit, and we'll see. But I warn you that you may have to be in charge of kid vomit when the time comes because I just don't see how it's going to be any cuter than yours.

The thing is, I have thrown up a total of seven times in my entire life and I remember all of them vividly and I have no desire to repeat them. It's why I didn't drink more in college. So when I look at you moaning in bed I wish I saw this...
But I really see you crawling with these...


So, again, sorry. Can I bring you some Jello?

Love,

Wife

The More You Know...

I was taking in my daily dose of mindless celebrity gossip a minute ago and I found this article. Apparently Puff Daddy (I'm old school like that) can do it for 30 hours.

My immediate response was the obvious, "Oh, ick." Once that wore off I realized that I need to make a public service announcement for our male readers...

No woman in the history of the world has ever wanted to have sex for 30 straight hours. Except maybe a hooker who gets paid by the hour. (Which I guess is all hookers. It seems like an hourly gig. What would a yearly salary for a hooker be? Whatever Julia Roberts got paid in Pretty Woman x 52, I guess.) Anyway, ouch! And with only strawberries and whipped cream for sustenance. Buy the woman a burger! I wonder for how many of those 30 hours his girlfriend was actually awake.

Guys, in case you didn't know, bragging about your abilities in the bedroom (or especially a Parisian hotel room) makes you sound like an insecure loser. And saying you can do it for 30 hours straight makes you sound like an insecure liar. An insecure liar who has never had sex with or possible ever met a woman before because if you had you would know how stupid this sounds. I'm not saying I don't believe in the tantric thing. It's not that it couldn't be done, it's that no woman would let you do it to her. Also, I'm not sure it's safe. In that Cialis commercial with the old people in a bathtub in the middle of a field without reasonable explanation they say that if it lasts more than 4 hours you need to seek medical advice.

Diddy can you hear me?

I just googled "70 inch DLP"

In loving response to this post...

I just googled "cute baby"

I don't really want a baby at the moment. I know that logically it makes sense for us to wait a couple of years, but sometimes I want to be ready for a baby. It's a mind vs. uterus issue which bubbles to the surface every once in a while, like when I see a cute pregnant lady or when it's time to refill my birth control. And that's when I get to googling.

Anyway, this is what I found...

I think this is the cutest single creature I have ever seen. I do want a baby, a furry one! But sadly, that is more like 10-15 years off because we have to wait for Cat to kick it before we can get another one. And she is only four and has already survived being hit by a car and God seems to have filed her under "Too Mean to Die."

Also, I found this.


It's crib bedding called Scary Fish. How adamantly hip and non-conformist do you have to be to think this would be cute in your baby's room?

I got a love letter today...

...from a first grader. Here's an excerpt:

"I hope you had a grate day. You are cute. I love you. You are my girl frend."

The other side had a picture of us kissing under a rainbow. After he gave it to me we had an awkwardly long hug. And I didn't know what to do to make him stop standing there staring at me so I asked him to pick up trash off the floor. He crawled around for literally 10 minutes and picked up every scrap of paper on the classroom floor. And then he brought me this giant wad of trash, his face a mix of pride and a longing for validation. It kind of reminded me of Husband, which I'm sure he will find offensive, but I sincerely mean that in the most positive way. Also, being a chick is awesome!

Screw teaching the children

If I could have any job in the world I would work in some capacity on The Office. I have never had any aspirations to move to Hollywood before, but I enjoy writing and I have lots of inspiration from years spent in a very dysfunctional office, so I think I could be on the writing staff. Plus, don't sitcoms have like 50 writers or something? How much funny stuff does any one person actually have to come up with? I already have my first idea to pitch at our next story meeting...

The folks at Dunder Mifflin begin a Weight Watchers at Work series (although they would probably have to call it something else, like maybe Tubby Talkers or Chunky Monkeys or something). Weight Watchers does this thing where the come to an office one lunch hour per week and hold a meeting with the employees. Toby would hand out fliers from corporate and explain that it's part of a new wellness initiative. Here are my ideas for some scenes...
• Pam would ask what it's all about and Toby would explain that she's not really Chunky Monkey material and it would be awkward because he has a crush on Pam to which she is oblivious. (Thanks Husband for this one!)
• During Michael's confessional on the topic he says he has nothing against fat people and then uses terms like "more cushion for the pushin'" and "badonkadonk" to illustrate his tolerance.
• The first meeting is about to begin and Michael tells Phyllis they'll just wait for her to get started. And she's all offended and says Bob Vance likes her just the way she is.
• Meredith wants to know if tequila and gin have the same points. What about lime juice?
• Kelly joins and is all upset that Ryan is not being supportive. She wants him to come over so they can cook a week's worth of healthy lunches and go on walks around the high school track. Ryan make lots of exasperated faces in his confessional.
• Kevin comes to the meetings but does nothing else to stay "on program." He brings a chili dog to the meeting and talks about this machine where you exercise just by standing on a platform.
• Creed does not go to the meetings but suddenly starts bringing in cinnamon rolls, donuts, etc. every morning.
• Dwight asks Angela if she's up for some activity points. Nudge, nudge.
• The group discusses the points for baby carrots. Angela points out that the welcome booklet clearly states that baby carrots are one point per cup. Stanley says he didn't get fat by eating carrots and he's going to count them as zero. Angela rats him out to the leader.
• Angela joins and at the third meeting she is all proud of herself because she has finally made it to goal after losing 6 pounds. She tells everyone else that if she can do it, they can do it! Lots of silent, deadly looks.
• Angela is irritated that the others are not taking the program seriously. She complains to Dwight, and he and Michael take it upon themselves to create a Biggest Loser competition. He makes Pam be Caroline Rhea. Michael wants the fat people to pull rickshaws in which he and Dwight would ride, but he can't find a rickshaw in Scranton so he and Dwight sit in wheelbarrows and try to get Stanley and Kevin to push them.

That's all I've got so far. I didn't include Karen because she will be off at the Albany branch mourning her failed relationship with Jim soon. Also, while everyone else is in the meeting Jim and Pam will be making out in the break room.

Note to the producers of The Office: This story is copyrighted or whatever so you can't use it unless you pay me. I will accept cash or an uncomfortably long hug from John Krasinski.

I love Jam

No, note the grape stuff. I'm a big fan of unadulterated peanut butter, but I digress. I'm talking about Jim and Pam, of The Office. I care about them way more than anyone I actually know, including Husband, and I understand what that says about me but don't care at all. I can't wait for them to have babies. For the unitiated, here's a primer...



Of course, since then Jim hooked up with skanky Karen. Actually, Karen really loves Jim and isn't a skank at all. But Jim loves Pam and they are going to have babies together. I just know it. They just can't be together right now, but I know they will be soon. It's very early Ross and Rachael if Ross wasn't weird and ugly. I'm sure this must be unbelievably boring for those of you who never watch The Office. If you are one of those people I just offer my condolences because you are totally missing the best show on television.

Maybe they need a puppy

Just recently a couple of family members have inquired about our plans to procreate. On my side of the family it seems to take the form of morbid curiosity. "You aren't going to have kids yet, are you?!" However my in-laws are ready to be grandparents. To their credit, they haven't actually told me this. Yet. But the evidence is mounting nonetheless...

1. At Thanksgiving Father-in-Law showed us these. They make pancakes in the shape of choo-choo trains and other cute things. Mother-in-Law tried to bust them out for breakfast one morning but Father-in-Law wouldn't let her. He told me he was saving them for the grandchildren. I suggested he store them in the attic.
   
2. When we were in Arkansas Husband's cousin told us he heard that we were ready for kids soon. Apparently this came from Father-in-Law during their last visit. Hmm. Husband told Cousin that we just got a dog and are in awe of that responsibility.
   
3. When Father-in-Law says/does these things Mother-in-Law gives us a very exasperated "yooouuur faaaahther" eye roll. But we recently learned that she has been hoarding toys for the non-existent grand kids. Busted!

The only reason I am amused and not annoyed by this is that Husband's sister is 31 and has been married a year longer than we have, so clearly the baby ball is in her court. Being 30 is really funny until it happens to you. And luckily I have three more years to go.

Seriously, if they say anything to my face I am going to tell them that I am ready but Husband won't let me have a baby. And if they keep asking they are totally getting a box with holes punched in the side and a big red bow on Christmas morning. I think it really helps that my mom has a puppy to serve as a surrogate grandbaby.

Home Again, Home Again

Husband and I are back from Arkansas. On our way back into town we stopped by my parents' house to pick up Dog. We sat in the backyard talking for awhile and I kept saying, "Hmm, let me think, did anything else interesting happen in Arkansas?" In fact, nothing of much interest happened in Arkansas. Both the people and the places we visited had all seen better days, I'm afraid. I wish I had interesting stories with which to regale you, but I don't. Instead here's a list of things I learned about Husband/our marriage after spending 178 hours straight with him.

1. He loves him some Walmart. At home we almost never go to Walmart (see wakeupwalmart.com), but in Arkansas it's pretty hard to avoid. I forgot to pack my swimsuit and extra batteries for the camera so we stopped by a Walmart one evening after dinner. We left with no swimsuit but the batteries and about $50 worth of other crap. You ladies out there are familiar, I'm sure, with the Rule of Target, which dictates that it is virtually impossible to spend more than 15 minutes in a Target without spending at least $100. I propose a new Rule of Walmart, which is basically the same but with a $50 minimum expenditure, cause that crap is cheap! I asked Husband what he loved so much about Walmart and he said that it is like the world's biggest garage sale, with cheap amusing crap around every corner. And amused he was, for about 45 minutes longer than I cared to be at a Walmart.
   
2. We have grown a little too comfortable around each other. I have always insisted that we close the door when using the restroom because I think it's healthy to have a little mystery. Plus I grew up in a freely-peeing house and it kind of creeps me out that my parents would have whole conversations over a good pee. It seems I need to amend our rule to include talking about going to the bathroom as well. And boobies and man parts too. Today I was making a grocery list and Husband said, "don't forget the chicken tits!" I'm not sure when our relationship devolved into a live-action episode of Family Guy, but I would like it to stop.
3. It works out better for everyone when I tell Husband what to do and he just does it. I'm talking specifically about how much less stressful it is when he drives and I navigate, but I'm sure this dynamic could transfer easily to other aspects of our lives.
   
4. I am way better at packing up a car than Husband is. I am okay with the fact that saying this means I will be packing up the car for every road trip for the rest of our lives. With great power comes great responsibility.
5. Husband was apparently confused by our honeymoon. No, freak, I didn't pack a different silky nightgown for every night. I packed a pair of sweatpants. Reserving a room with a king-sized bed here at the Comfort Inn was not intended to be a sexual overture.
   

Going on a little vacay

Husband has recently fallen in love with the word vacay, mainly because I hate it. Even if I approved of the term vacay, I still think it would not apply in this case. To me vacay(tion) implies something that requires a bikini wax or new ski boots. This is more of a trip. We are off to spend eight glorious days in Arkansas. It was going to be seven days but we had to add a day because Husband's grandmother said we can't come on Thursday since that is the day she gets her hair done. We have chosen to find this adorable and not infuriating.

I am starting to feel guilty about leaving Dog. He will be staying at Grandma and Grandpa's house (a.k.a. my parents, who would not think that was cute at all). He used to have major separation anxiety and I am afraid he will regress. And also I just love him, in a way a childless woman loves the cutest baby-sized thing in her life. I feel it in my uterus. He is so handsome and he is such a good boy.

I am not so sad to leave Cat, or Fucking Cat as Husband likes to call her. It sounds mean, or at least trashy, but it is so appropriate. Here's a picture of her in our Christmas tree to illustrate. As I am typing this she just hopped up on the sofa with the sole purpose of hissing at Dog. And now she is under the table staring at me. She is like Chuck Norris, in that she doesn't sleep, she waits. Her favorite thing to do is knock over containers of liquid. And she is totally deliberate about it. Just when I'm about to throw her ass in kitty jail (the guest bathroom) she gets all purry and lovey. I have a very dysfunctional relationship with Cat, and it kind of makes me worry about my ability to parent actual children. But I am her kitty momma and I have had her since she was 12 days old and I used to feed her with a bottle and then she would have a drop of milk on her chin which was soooooo cute. So I guess I love her too, begrudgingly.

We will be blog incommunicado until next weekend. Enjoy working, suckers!

Working Girl

I had a job interview today. It is interesting to go on a job interview I actually care about, an experience I haven't had since... ever before in my life. As a liberal arts graduate I pretty much just took whatever job came along that required skills I could figure out myself or learned in high school, like answering a phone, Googling stuff, using various Microsoft Office programs, and adding.

Today was a screening interview for Suburban ISD, which is my preferred employer. It's where I did my student teaching and where I sub now, and also all the schools are within 20 minutes of my house, so that is pretty awesome after commuting an hour each way to grad school for the past year or so. Now that I have successfully contained my stupidity, vulgarity, and emotional imbalance for 30 minutes with the HR lady I am cleared to go on actual interviews with hiring committees at various schools.

But alas, it is not that simple. My mom is a teacher in neighboring Urban ISD. Since I started grad school she has gently suggested I go work at her school, and lately it has become more of an assumption on her part that I will. The cons are that the school is 30+ minutes away in wretched traffic, the district overall is not as good (not as many services for kids and treats teachers like crap), and this is the elementary school I went to so many of the teacher have known me since I was 5. The rest go to happy hour with my mom and I am frankly kind of scared of some of them, including the principal. I'm afraid everybody would be all up in my business all the time. I'm sure I will screw up a lot and I'd kinda rather do that anonymously. Also, I hear that it is really, really hard to get a job in Suburban ISD if you have worked in Urban ISD before - they would rather train/brainwash/indoctrinate you to their liking right from the start. So if I choose Urban ISD it might be hard to switch later.

The pros are that the school itself is really awesome and I would have a ton of support from the staff, as scary and meddlesome as they are. Also, it sounds like I am pretty much guaranteed a job as long as don't pee myself during the interview. Plus working in Urban ISD seems the noble thing to do. The kids at my mom's school are a little needier, and the main reason I became a teacher was to make a difference in the life of a child, blah, blah, blah.

Clearly this is a major decision for me, and I don't like those. Would anyone like to tell me what to do? I have about a week to decide. The principal at Urban ISD will have an opening and she will not post it if I want it. And I think if I turn her down now she probably won't be as willing to hold any future positions for me, so it's kind of now or never.

Sometimes when I can't think of something interesting from my own life I just write funny stuff on other people's blogs instead

Here is a link to a post from our friend Clint's blog called Zombie Fights Shark. I don't know what it means, but I think it is some stupid boy thing. Anyway, my hilariousness is one of the first few comments. His original post includes a very funny, very '80s clip from You Tube. I would have put a link to that video right here but I don't know how. Maybe I will update when Husband gets home to show me. Oooh, I feel very post-modern '50s housewife right now. How fun.

Sexy Cold Voice

Well, I am STILL kinda sick. I am excited that the fever and congestion are over, leaving me with a dwindling cough and a scratchy throat. I am just thisclose to Sexy Cold Voice. You know, the voice that makes you sound far more worldly and interesting and generally cool than you actually are. I first discovered the power of the Sexy Cold Voice in college when I went out downtown on the tail end of a cold and got drinks bought for me right and left all night. This was so not the norm for me in college, but I digress. The point of this post was to say that I was excited about my Sexy Cold Voice until just a minute ago when a telemarketer called and asked to talk to my mom or dad. Apparently my cold voice is not sexy at all. Apparently I have a Tween Cold Voice. "Tweens" is what they call nine year-olds now because apparently it's lame to just call them kids. I guess that night in college I was just having a cute hair day or my boobs looked perky or something. How disappointing. Turns out the only thing my cold voice is good for is phone sex with pedophiles. And I already do that. Not really. Ha!

I don't like being 27

I forgot to mention that I turned 27 last week. So far it's a lot like being 26, but sicker. Especially since I now have pink eye. I thought that was something 3 year olds get. Oh, I feel like a kid again.

Scenes from a weekend

Sorry I've gone so long without posting, but I almost died. And by "almost died" I mean that I have a head cold. I don't handle illness well, clearly.

I went to the doctor on Friday hoping I had strep so I could have some drugs. The doctor told me that 85% of sore throats are viral, and only 15% are strep, but he would do a throat culture anyway just to be sure. He told me this at least five times, and I can only assume he did so to stretch the exam to the full seven minutes required by his conscience and my insurance company. He also suggested I pick up some Chloraseptic and cough drops on the way home. I left still unable to swallow and irritated that I had just paid some guy $70 to tell me it sucks to have a cold.

I was supposed to go to a baby shower this weekend, but I hear coughing all over a pregnant woman is frowned upon. Still, I was desperate to get out of the house so Husband took me to Target on Friday night to buy the present and then I made him deliver it on Saturday. At Target I walked really slowly through the baby aisles and said things like, "Oh, look at all the cute stuff we could buy if only I had a baby!" Ladies, for what it's worth, pointing out all the expenses related to babies is not the best marketing strategy to use on your significant other. Instead you might try highlighting all the s e x you get to have trying to make said baby. Husband has said before that he doesn't want us to have trouble conceiving a child, but that he wouldn't mind if it takes a few months. Eww.

Anyway, I spent a good portion of Saturday night browsing through babiesrus.com, pbkids.com, and landofnod.com and googling terms like "modern baby bedding." I found a crib set I really liked and said, "Oh, it's $800." And Husband said, "I can't tell if you think that's really expensive or really cheap." I don't buy hand-embroidered sheets for myself, much less a little baby. They won't remember, and they leak stuff all the time. No wonder he's freaked out about the expense of having a baby! In the end, Husband and I agreed that it is probably good that I've had my latest wave of baby fever during a weekend when I am so grossly snot-laden that the forecast for s exytime is approximately 0%. And that brings me to our last vignette...

WIFE: Cough, cough. Ack ack aaaackum. Uuuugh. Moan. Moan. ACK! Ewwww, gross. That was a green ball!!!! I don't think I've ever seen something that disgusting come out of my body.
HUSBAND: Wanna do it?
WIFE: Please stop touching my boob.

P.S. Husband would like to state for the record that he did a very good job taking care of me this weekend, and I agree. Specifically, he brought be a 3 Musketeers bar and didn't make fun of me when I nibbled off all the chocolate so I could have a bite of pure nougat. The nougat is what makes me feel better.

When Harry Met Sally

When a man loves a woman very much, sometimes they experience the physical act of love. It's a very beautiful thing, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. Unless you're a dirty whore with herpes. In that case, you need to go elsewhere for your happily ever after, like here.

Yes, as the fine folks at CNN.com tell us, when you combine the power of the internet with the itching, burning... uh... need for love? You get online communities dedicated to helping those stricken with STDs to find similarly afflicted companions. It's really an ingenious idea, and as a big proponent of the Internet, I have to say I'm impressed by the utility of this phenomenon.

Let's say you're a perfectly nice chap (or lass) who happens to have one too many margaritas at Happy Hour, and next thing you know... POW!! Herpes! Or maybe you're a wrestler in Minnesota. POW!! Herpes! No matter how it happens, you're now stuck with an awkward "Say hello to my leeeetle friend!" moment awaiting every potential suitor. That has to put a damper on your marketability as a single person looking to find love and not necessarily more herpes.

I think it's great that these people can intermingle and date within a comfort zone of potential hookups that you already know are sketchy and disease-ridden. I can just imagine the "eHarmony: STD Remix" ads for these folks.

Background music: "doo... doo... doo... doodittydoo... THIS WILL BE..." etc.

HIM: The first time we met...
HER: It was like magic!
HIM: Magic! Yeah! The itching and burning stopped...
HER: Almost immediately!
HIM: It was like magic.

Imagine the power of attraction ignited by deep compatibility and the ability to share everything with each other... EVERYTHING!!!

I should go journal about my journey. Or maybe just barf.

As I have mentioned, Husband and I have been going to the gym lately, and I am also doing Weight Watchers (again). This time I'm doing it online because I got tired of going to meetings and listening to morbidly obese women argue about the points value of a cup of baby carrots. Is it one or zero? Cause eating carrots is definitely what made it so they can't see their feet. Also I don't enjoy listening to poems written from the perspective of a chocolate chip cookie that doesn't want me to eat it.

I chose Monday as my weigh-in day to force me not to eat Cheetos all weekend, and it's generally been working. What has not been working, unfortunately, is exercise. It seems to have thrown my body into a state of panic because I have never ever in my life managed to exercise this regularly for this long. It has engaged some sort of primal instinct, very oh God the mammoths are becoming extinct, must conserve all body fat in a dimply manner on thighs for coming apocalypse.

So today I entered my weight, up 0.4 pounds from last week, and I get this encouraging message...

"GREAT JOB for logging your weight! We notice that you've gained a little this week. You should know that gaining weight every now and then is a natural part of the weight-loss journey. Here are our tips for getting back on track." And then it proceeded to tell me that I can jump start my weight loss by eating less and exercising more, before closing with a very bitchy "Good luck this week. No one likes a fat ass!" Although it's possible that the last part was only in my head. Also, am I the only one who noticed that the disapproving not-quite-smiley, not-quite-frowny face even looks fat? I find that face hostile. I wonder how much weight I would have to gain for it to be an all-out frowny face. And would that face look even fatter?

Friday Night

Here's a rundown of our Friday night...

We started out by meeting my parents, my brother, and my brother's girlfriend for dinner. Friday Night Dinner began many years ago when my mom said, "%$@* if I'm cooking on a Friday night," and has been a tradition ever since. I was especially fond of it when I was single and poor, and Husband and I still try to make it when we can.

Anyway, we went to Luby's because we couldn't agree on anything better. We sat down next to a large wholesome family who happened to be saying grace as we arrived. So of course Husband is all, "Wait everybody, don't forget to pray!" in a sarcastic, not at all quiet voice. I told him he was going to hell and moved on with my dinner. Then my mom started telling a story about a crazy panhandling woman who accosted her at the mall. "She said she used to have a job, but then she hurt her leg, and now she only has one pair of underwear, so I gave her $10." Right on cue, as my mom uttered "one pair of underwear" the Praying Mom from the next table whipped her head around to flash a dour, disapproving look. Apparently she would prefer to shield her small children from the reality of poor people without sufficient underwear supplies, at least at the dinner table. So I whisper to my mom, "That lady totally turned around when you said underwear!" and my mom said (not in a whisper), "Well, I don't know what her problem is. I was just telling a story. I'm wearing underwear."

At dinner we found out that my brother's band was playing later that night. It's called Black Panda, and my brother somehow happened into the band a couple of months ago when he answered an ad for a used bass amp. They have played a handful of shows since he joined and we haven't made it to one yet, so I insisted that we go and Husband was game.

We met up a few hours later and waited outside while the first band played. I found my brother hunched over a pizza box that was sitting on top of a car hood. He said, "Want some? It's part of our payment." Then a few minutes later a couple of girls walked out. "Um, we're gonna go." At first I thought they knew my brother, but then I realized that he had just chosen their car to set down their pizza and beer. "Could you, um, move that?"

Soon enough it was Black Panda time. The band consists of my brother on bass, a couple of pretty good guitar players, an awesome girl drummer, and the lead singer. I was a little surprised that I really enjoyed the music. It's not that I thought they would suck, it's just that my brother and I are very different people and we do not share the same taste in music at all.
I should clarify that I did enjoy the music until the lead singer started screaming. Then it kind of hurt my ears. He is a small Japanese man who was quite friendly before and after they played, but appeared to be in some sort of distress as he sang. Husband likened him to a cross between Michael Stipe from R.E.M. and the Japanese Johnny Carson character in Lost in Translation.

After they played the last song the band all huddled up and had a little chat as we all watched. I thought it was an anticlimactic way to end the set, made more so about 20 seconds later when the lead singer said, "Uh, that...that's it." Apparently there was some sort of dispute as to whether or not they had played all six of their songs. After the show I told my brother that they should work on something more impressive. Maybe shout, "We are Black Panda! Good night!" before throwing down the mic.

Hrumph. Husband has censored what I was going to say. Even though I was going to say something nice, apparently he doesn't like it when I compare our families. It seems to be a bit of a sore spot. Especially because my family is obviously way cooler. So instead I will just say that I am very proud of my brother.

Subbing is the worst job I've ever had

I'm kind of in a complainy mood today, but such is (my) life...

Today I subbed for a Kindergarten class. I had to listen to a song called "Who Let the Letters Out." On repeat. It goes something like this...

Who let the A out, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Who let the B out, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh
Who let the C out, cuh, cuh, cuh, cuh, cuh

You get the idea. Or if you don't, let me help you out by saying "Who Let the Dogs Out." It was performed by a cheerful lady named Dr. Jean with backup vocals by a random group of tone deaf children. Much like the wedding post, I wish this hadn't really happened, but it did.

People keep telling me I'm really good with the small children and that I should look for a Kinder job. But I simply cannot listen to this shit everyday of my life.

Updated to Add: Today I spent two hours officiating Color & Shape Bingo. "Red square... red square. Blue triangle... blue triangle. Pink circle... pink circle." And on... and on... and on...