my laptop makes me sweaty...

I am almost as good at blogging as I am with writting in my pregnancy journal. Classy. Mostly I am just blogging now because I hate everyone because I can't stop being stressed out about anything & it makes me really cranky. I wish that Asian would start a blog... He has many worldly things to speak of. And speaking of Asian, I should probably clean up all my trash that has been strewn about the house all afternoon. Maybe I can just not do it & play the pregnancy card tonight... Hmm... Rude. Asian, if you are reading this, I don't actually play the pregnancy card. Whenever you are not looking, I am working out & cleaning things... It's just that these damn elfish creatures keep sneaking under the cracks in the door when I am not looking & they mess up everything that I just did. It's actually them leaving the pants & shoes & empty Yoplait Cherry Yogurt cups everywhere. Hopefully they will not come with us when we move. Um, yeah. Moving. We are currently facing stressful new job times, new baby, saggy boobs, horrifyingly rapid hair growth, & moving to a new place. I just keep crossing my fingers that we don't end up in the ghetto. It will be unfortunate if I have to teach my child to use numbchucks before they can play outside. Does anyone else have high blood pressure? Just me? Okay. Great. I wish that instead of bedrest, I could go on like, vacation rest. I could go to Disneyland & ride rollercoasters all day until my baby shoots out. Oh wait... Babies don't shoot out... They claw & bite their way out of your vagina or your stomach. Terrifying. I made the ridiculous mistake of watching videos of live births on the inter-web. Why isn't anything like the movies? I was actually expecting to be exactly 9 months pregnant when I wake from a dead sleep @ 3:00 in the morning, gingerly place one hand on my rotund belly, turn to my slumbering husband & whisper, "Honey, it's time." We would then proceed to the hospital (after grabbing my bag that is packed & conveniently waiting by the front door) where smiling nurses would greet me. I would be walking & glowing & saying with a big smile on my face that, "I have come to give birth." They would all smoothly dress me in my hospital gown (complete with a covered ass), place my IV, & help me into a bed in a dimly lit room, full of flowers & the music of a babbling brook. About 5 seconds would pass with me having absolutely no contractions, where upon I would take a deep breath, push 3 times (max), & deliver a beautiful, healthy baby who is clean, wrapped in a swaddling cloth (yeah, that's right. I'm givin' birth to Jesus...) & cooing quietly. They would all look upon me with adoring grins (because my hair would be perfect & my make up would be flawless... And I am pretty sure I should be wearing Pearls...) before they hand me my child who immediately looks up at me & smiles because it knows I am the mother. That's pretty much it. After that, I go home & become one of those Stepford mothers who vacuums while breastfeeding. It's magical. It's serene. It's shit. NOT A SINGLE THING THAT I HAVE READ OR WATCHED HAS BEEN ANYTHING LIKE THAT!!! Apparently, all childbirth is, is TORTURE!!! This alien life form rips you open & pulls it's way out, holding on to your labia. They then toss this bloody, cottage cheesy, slimy Chubacabra on your chest, where it will screech in your face until you put your nipple in it's mouth. And even when you do that, all it is going to do it try it's hardest to destroy your nipples. Completely destroy. DE-STROY. Wow. Good thing I want to be a mother more than anything in the whole world or this just would not seem worth it. Amazingly enough, I am excited for my Chubacabra to be flung at me after I have spent numerous painful hours trying to get it out. Hmm... I actually can't wait. I wish that I had a time machine to speed along the process. I also really can't wait for Asian to be able to feel the kicks & movements. They are just little treats for me right now, but this wiggle worm will soon be working his way to the surface. Or her way. Who knows? The ring does. But I don't. I can't wait.

Senior Day is the bane of my exsistence...

Okay... So, this is the first of many blogs. Lisa has convinced me that I shall become famous & be able to eat endangered species because I am so awesome. Bald Eagle Burgers... MmMm. Right now my laptop feels like it's going to light me on fire, but I just have to say that today, at my super secret job, was "Senior Day"... I wish that was something really cool like when we were in high school & Senior Day was popular, but alas... This senior day just had fat oldies scooting around in wheelchairs that they don't need. Drama. If I have to see one more nasty tissue be pulled from a flannel pocket, I am going to Thelma & Louise myself off of a tall building. If you are too old to walk, drive, urinate IN the toilet, wipe yourself, look in the mirror to see that you look like a mutant, & talk without spitting your oldies AIDS all over me, it's time for you to go to the light. If anyone needs help with that, let me know. I am thinking about bringing back the Kavorkian. That is all for now. I have a little Asian peering over my shoulder. And moths keep dive-bombing my computer. Ick. See you tomorrow. That's right. I say "see you" over the inter-web.