Captain Picard's Disco Inferno

I felt Picard kick!!!
Yesterday and today, I felt the baby move and it was awesome. Sara has been telling me over the last couple of weeks that she has been feeling movement, but at last I have had the pleasure of actually feeling something.
Sara is so cute; we will be talking normally and in mid sentence she will stop and smile and say, "Hello baby" It is so awesome...
I cant believe I am doing all and feeling all the things I swore I wouldn't feel or do. I am sure that being a parent is going to be a hard road to navigate but at the moment the journey is an enjoyable one.
Thanksgiving was truly that this year and we both gave thanks for all we have, dancing Picard and all.
I told Sara to remember these times because these are truly happy days. I know it is all hormone induced but we both feel incredibe at the moment.
I hope it lasts.

It's called Thanksgiving, you freaks.

Here it is, for the record: The next person who sends me the Turkey-Day (wtf? why can't you just say "Thanksgiving"?) "I Will Survive" song is going to suffer. You know the one I'm talking about, the imitative turkey singing and dancing to Donna Summer, oops, I mean Gloria Gaynor (thanks Fufi). It wasn't funny the first time, and it's sure not amusing the sixth. If you haven't yet had the immense pleasure of watching a black turkey gyrate and sing about death, let me know and I'll be more than happy to supply you with the link for such entertainment.

I'm just beyond tired of idiotic fowards. This latest one is certainly on of the worst, although equally annoying are the patriotic ones like "I'm Proud to be an American" or "The Crying Eagle," that seriously incite me to scream obscenities at the screen. Ever notice that the really stupid ones (ok, all of them) are ALWAYS sent by conservatives? Just an observation, but empirical evidence would certainly imply that Republicans are indeed retarded. You heard me right. Oh, and it's always the conservatives that, for whatever reason, seem to think that I'm likewise a Bush-supportin', pro-war, Evangelical Southern Baptist. Um, did you neglect to notice that I was pregnant prior to being married (and didn't even have the decency to hide it!), and that I LOVE Jon Stewart, and I think gay people are really fun.

Yeah, and back to the whole Turkey Day thing. When did that happen? It seems like something my dad woulda said just to annoy me, and now the whole country has decided it's cute. Um. Barf.

Whew, tirade officially over. I guess after all this bitching I should maybe say that I am, in fact, thankful for beaucoup de things, including, but not limited to: Fufi Fuferton, Smeleanor, that our new house doesn't seem to be haunted, Aunt Sae and Phil and Tay, the whoooole fam, Picard.

So anyway, y'all have a super Thanksgiving--I've already moved on to Festivus.

Days of Irrationality

So I was just sitting here perusing the internet and having my "designed-to-make-me-poop" lunch of whole wheat bread and kidney bean chili, when I came across the funniest blog. Here's an excerpt:

He’s having a baby
Another buddy of mine is having a baby. Well, he’s not exactly having it, but he’s more than loosely connected to the chain of events that has precipitated the baby shower that my wife Kara and I are attending this weekend.

The fact that my friends are having children now is rather disconcerting. These are the same people who, in college, spent weeks walking a lobster along the countertop for longer and longer periods of time because “we’re teaching it to breathe air.” What baffles me most is that people keep having kids when they know full well what irrational creatures they are. A guy Kara works with was telling her this week about his two-year old son, who has recently added the word “afraid” to his vocabulary. After his parents dressed him one morning, the kid started shrieking that he was afraid of his pants. The pants did not have tarantulas crawling around in them. These were not asbestos pants. My property taxes were not hiding in his pockets. The kid made such a fuss that his parents were compelled to remove his pants, at which point the child started crying because his legs were cold. But he wouldn’t hear of putting his pants back on. “I’m afwaid of my pants!” he wailed. After hearing this story, I ran to the computer and bought stock in a prophylactic company.

Hasn’t anybody ever tried talking reason to children? Seriously, somebody ought to do something about this. Sane people do not act this way. And still, my friends keep insisting on bringing new little crazy people into the world.

Nice little Sunday

It's 9:38 on a Sunday morning--do you realize how long it has been since I last woke up with a wicked hangover? It just occurred to me, as Jed and I were having breakfast (at the kitchen table, no less), and I shared the sentiment with him....Kinda strange, to wake up on the weekend without a raging headache, nausea, and wondering if I made a complete ass of myself the night before. Mind you, the madness will happen again, although not in the near future. Worry not, fellow dashers, I'll be back, and with a vengeance.

Kinda am feeling rather like Frank the Tank at Mitch's big breakup blowout (prior to funneling a massive amount of beer, harassing Snoop, and streaking through the neighborhood):

Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.
College Student: A big day? Doing what?
Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

Jed and I are antiquing today. That's right--antiquing. When did "antique" become ok to use as a verb? Why not just say, "going shopping for antiques?" I mean, if I were going to buy some crank, I wouldn't say, "I'm going cranking." Or if I were heading out to purchase a tube of toothpaste, it's not called "toothpasting." Just a thought.

Oh, and here's a picture of our newly painted house...It looks great!

Rumbly in my Tumbly

Have been feeling the baby move a ton lately, although nothing for the past two days. This morning, had a pain in my lower left stomach that kept getting worse and worse (not debilitating, just nagging and ouchy), so I called the ob, who said to come on in. So of course I’m terrified, right, especially since Picard has decided to take a hiatus from his disco days. Fufi was nervous as well. Fortunately, am told that it’s “round ligament pain” and that smaller people seem to hurt more, and that I’m just stretching out to make room for the growing beast. I heard the heartbeat again, and everything is perfectly fine. Sorry, I’m paranoid.

So, as I was leaving, I turn on my cell phone to call my baby daddy and let him know that all is still well with the world. The elevator opens, I go to press “send” on my phone, and who is standing on the ground floor waiting to hop in? Fufi himself, the best husband (weird) and father (still weird) the world has ever known. (Now, this may not seem like a big deal to those of y'all who don't know FF, but he works very long hours in a far-away universe called Greer, and never leaves the office spontaneously). Big deal, my friends!

Y'all be sending Smellie mental hugs and snuggles--she had a nasty allergic reaction this a.m. and has been at the vet all day. Only upside of this is that she's waaaay drugged on Benadryl and hence may not go on a pooping (eating and doing) rampage today. Giddy up.

Amnesia, Euphoria, Ecstasy

As I know you've all INTENSELY missed my rantings and inane updates, here are a few for you to chew on....

1) My job would be far more enjoyable if it were far more enjoyable. Am sitting here at my desk at 7:39 on a Saturday morning--you do the math.

2) Due to public welfare concerns, and possible lawsuits, I should not be put in any position that
requires my interaction with the masses (washed and unwashed). I freely admit to entertaining elitist thoughts and inclinations; hence, my limited dealings with others necessitates close supervision.

3) Kissing is indeed the supreme achievement of the western world.

4) Ellie will be missing her third week of puppy training this Sunday due to scheduling conflicts. She has pooped in the house approximately five times this week, and is currently seeking out the right opportunity for a sixth.

5) I'm a failure, but at least I fail with style. Not grace, but style.

6) As of late, am most annoyed by passive-aggressiveness and those who find the need to be cryptic, rather than just say, "Hey sara, you're the biggest asshole ever. And I mean ever." Snarf. Insert Beatles reference..."We can work it out...etc, etc."

7) Have recently realized that I'm one of those losers who find staff meetings inspirational. I left ours on Thursday thinking, "Ok, yeah. Yeah! I've got the Y spirit and I'm turning over a new leaf!" But, as I'm sure as you've already surmised, I couldn't quite rekindle that spark post-meeting.

8) Am baffled that "bi-weekly" means both: A) Happening twice per week and B) Happening every two weeks. Doesn't that seem counterintuitive?

9) Picture Cartman dressed up like a 12-year-old slut on Maury (you know, the episodes where he has all the "bad" kids come in and they compete to see who is the biggest delinquent, and then they go to bootcamp and all give in and cry and beg forgiveness. I always want one of 'em to stick to their guns and stay evil, but alas, they lack my fortitude and resolve). Ok, you got that picture in your head, complete with halter top and too much lipstick? Now, picture Fufi, in his best Cartman voice (which, incidentally, sounds more like Prince Charles on crank) saying, "What-ev-er. I do what I want." Pure zen, ladies and gentlemen.

10) Did you guys know that Carl Sagen thinks that Plato was a hack? Seriously. I mean, it's been at least four or five days since I saw the "Cosmos" on which Sagen belched forth this horrid statement, and it's still irritating the shit out of me. I think an entire blog may be later devoted to this, for which I'm certian you're waiting with baited breath. Worry not, little sloths, philosophical drivel is coming soon.

11) Smeleanor has developed a most unattractive habit of, whilst in the backyard (presumably to poop), eating massive quatities of rotten acorns. Now, you're wondering, "So what?" Well, I'll tell you what: After she eats 'em, she proceeds to vomit foulness and yours truly has to clean it up. And then, because she's been distracted in her designated bathroom area, she promptly attempts to relieve herself in the house. Any suggestions should be posted without delay.

12) Heard Picard's heartbeat last week. Doctor was all like, "Now, we may not be able to hear it yet, and sometimes they like to hide." Then, he lifted up my shirt. Eyes on belly, he recanted his doubt. "Not with a uterus like that." Am not sure that this was a compliment but am determined to take as such. And the heartbeat--was loud. Didn't cry, though, or become otherwise overly excited, as was painfully aware that a pap smear was soon to follow. Super duper.

All for now, am going to work on something equally unproductive.

YOWZAS

No, your computer screen is a-ok. There’s no need to adjust your glasses or turn up your Miracle Ear. You did indeed hear correctly, and Fufi and I were married on October 25. It was actually a big surprise, all planned and executed by the Tornado (and very well done, I must say).

We took a private helicopter into the Grand Canyon. Y’all, this should have been a beautiful experience, with me looking out the window in awe at God’s great creation. Riiiight. Rather, I’m clutching Jed’s hand in terror, eyes clinched shut, cringing each time the oh-so-sturdy aircraft dips or lifts. Jesus…Who woulda thought I was such a freakin’ baby? Once again on solid ground, however, I was perfectly fine, and the view was equally spec-tac-u-lar! Dave came to be our witness, and the minister was wonderful. Was short, sweet, and very much to-the-point (the ceremony, not the pastor). The beast, although she couldn’t be there, sent her love and all the necessities (you know the drill…old, new, etcetera, etcetera). It was….truly beautiful. So nice that even I can’t even ruin it with sarcastic and witty observations--sorry to disappoint.

We had champagne afterwards, and took pictures and video, not that any of you (ANY OF YOU) will be allowed to see them as I look rather like an overfed hippie. Flying back into Vegas was much more relaxed than our initial trip, other than having to pee with most distracting severity.

I asked Jed what he would have done had I said no. The answer? “Well, it woulda been a long walk back to Vegas.”