People Are Strange...

When you're a stranger.

Well folks, let me just take off my imaginary bobo and put on this blue sweater and say, "Hi Stranger! Er, I mean, neighbor!"

Firstly things first. If you are interested in keeping tabs on me and the second kid I'm cooking up in there, might I suggest that you can find me, FAR MORE OFTEN, here. Feel free to friend me, just give me a clue that you know me from this here blog because believe it or not, I can be a little discerning about who I befriend on Facebook.

Ahem, now that that is out of the way. Things are progressing fantastically in mah belly. I'm almost 32 weeks along and the repeat c-section has been scheduled for August 7. We'll have to see if this one makes it that far or if s/he will decide to come earlier like her/his sister! I've had such a normal pregnancy that I've even ceased to anticipate the other shoe dropping. It's fucking nuts, yo.

Anyway, I've received a few e-mails asking after me and wanted to update those of you who kindly still care. :-) Things are fan-friggin-tastic. I'm just mostly wiped-out.

Sometimes I Get Wheely, Wheely Annoyed...Heh...That Was Maybe the Lamest Title Ever...

The other day, we were having snow removed from the back parking lot at work. As always, there was a vehicle there without a parking pass. We had every right to have it towed, but we always make an attempt to find the errant parker by calling some of the condos in the vicinity. See, no matter whether it is our right to tow them, invariably the towee gets twelve shades of bitter and goes on a rampage about how unfair we are and how we enjoy towing people and pissing them off, ad nauseum. That's never fun. Pissed off people aren't fun. Why people insist we relish in ruining their day is beyond me.

Anywho, I was calling various condos and asking if they might happen to possess a blue Durango which might happen to be parked in the back driveway and might happen to not have a parking pass on it. Most folks simply said no. One lady in particular irritated the daylights out of me.

Z-Girl: Hi! I was wondering, do you happen to have a blue Durango parked in the back driveway without a tag?

Lady: *disgustedly* Uck! NO! WE have a HUMMER!

Z-Girl: Oh. Sorry.

And I meant it. There are Hummers EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE around here. They make me bonkers. To say that I despise them would be an understatement of epic proportions. I mean, why get an $80,000 vehicle that LOOKS like it should be offroading but is too fucking nice and EXPENSIVE to actually get dirty and fuck up? It's silliness.

So, Lady, I'm sorry your hubby had to buy a car named after something he wishes he was getting more of.

The other day, this guy grabbed a luggage cart from next to the elevator, looked over at me, and asked, "Excuse me, but do these fit on the elevator?"

I replied, "No, you have to use the stairs." Heh. It took him a minute, but eventually he laughed. Because really, what would be the point of having luggage carts with wheels to schlep your belongings to your room if they didn't fit on the elevator?

Need advice? We Three Bitches need advisees. E-mail us at wethreebitches [at] yahoo [dot] com. Perty please. No question is beyond our infinite knowledge. Obviously.

Oh, in case you were wondering, I'm not going to go anon. I guess if I get found by the one person I don't want to find me, I'll make the best of it. 'Cause I'm kind of a survivor like that. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Whatever...

I'm tired. I'm tired, I'm tired, and I'm tired.

I know the Thunderdome verdict is up, and I won, and they sure as HELL didn't go easy on me. But honestly? I laughed while I read it. And that's the whole point of the thing. I'm actually a bit relieved that Malfouka, Dave, and Adam delivered some humor where Nyte and I failed. Not ONE iota of the verdict surprised me. Well, I was a bit surprised to have won. EVERY other blog that received the most popular votes lost. I had no reason to believe my blog would be any different. I actually nodded in agreement with much of what was said about my blog because it was TRUE. And...the way I look at it, if I'm going to spend a good portion of my time laughing at other people, I damn well better be capable of laughing at myself. And I am.

I knew, knew, they'd rag on my '100 Things.' If I cared, I never would have signed up. I'll only say that at least it's not Meme Central here. I think I might've MAYBE answered five memes in the 10 months I've been blogging and passed the tag along, like, once. Huh. Maybe twice. I can't remember.

Actually, almost sadly, I wasn't even tagged for the '100 Things.' I did it myself way back in the beginning because, believe it or not, I enjoyed reading the '100 Things' of other people. It's just interesting to know what folks highlight when they only have a limit of 100. Also, it was cathartic for me. And, if anyone reads it, I think it's a bit of a warning. Maybe instead of '100 Things' I should call it '100 Clues as to the Shit You Will Find Ruminated About at This Here Blog.' Seems a little more honest.

All of that aside, I'm hiding. I'm having what I like to call a 'Whatever Day.' Whatever if I'm five days late and four tests later, there's no fucking reason for it. And Whatever if it seems like everyone I know is pregnant or nursing. And Whatever if I'm never going to be a Mom because my reproductive system is a punk ass bitch. And Whatever if I have tears streaming down my face because I'm tough and fuck those tears and it'll happen and...Whatever if it's 1PM on a bright, sunny Saturday and I'm in my flannel PJs playing Sims 2. Such a great word. Whatever. And all I have to do is 'Woo-Hoo' a couple of times on Sims 2 and BAM. Baby. Much easier.

Sometimes, at 1PM on a Saturday when your husband is at work and not around to make you laugh, there is no better view than this:


Really, I'm not a Fashion Queen. I just wear slippers that say so while I'm Playing video games.

Blog Shit...But First...

Before I get to blogging about blogging, I'll tell you what this temperature means. It means that your fucking car might refuse to start and you'll have to drive your husband's car to work, only by the time you give up on trying to woo your own car into starting, and get your husband's started, you are already late and there isn't a half hour to let the car sit and warm up.

It will also mean that because you wasted a half an hour trying to get your car started and you are now late, you must rush around to get ready to leave, and will, invariably, forget your work keys.

I'm all pissy today. And fucking cold. I'm sorry I keep talking about the coldness. Sort of. It's just everpresent in my world today.

Onto other things...I like to save all of my blog musings to post at once because nothing fucking irritates me more than reading a blog about nothing but blogging. Well, unless that's the point of the thing, such as with these bitches over here. That's some funny shit.

I gave up on the Rent My Blog thing over at Blog Explosion. I dig the concept, however I was turned down for nearly every bid I made and though the nice little DENIED e-mail they sent me said not to take it personally, well, I kind of did. The only cool cat who took me on was TJ over at Zazzafooky, 'cause she rocks socks.

We Three Bitches, my little side project with Bonanza Jellybean and PaintingChef is going AWESOMELY. Check it out. We're rolling right along and have questions to get us through almost the end of December. So, if you've got some shit you're pondering, throw it our way.

We've also kind of adopted another blog called Ask the Soldiers. Head on over there and show those guys some love because no matter the politics of the thing and how you personally feel about the war, there are many brave men and women who are far away from home for the Holidays and then some and they deserve our support.

I got a mention over at this here blog which is awesome because they liked my post about abortion, AND it's called the fucking TamponBlog. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HA. I love it.


Lastly, every two weeks or so, I'm on the fucking EDGE of my SEAT! Reason being, a couple of months ago, Zube Boy was looking over my shoulder while I was snickering at a verdict doled out over at the Blog Thunderdome. He convinced me to enter by telling me I had a good blog and getting my head all big. So, I fucking did. If I lose, the punishment is no blogging for two months, and because I'm not a whiney fucking sack of baby poo, I will adhere to that punishment should it be served, because I'll have knowingly entered into such a deal. I just wish that it would be MY FUCKING TURN ALREADY because the waiting is killing me.

Anyway, check it out because it's fucking DRAMA at its best sometimes, and you just may have to defend my honor there someday so I'd like for you to get comfy.

Zube out.

We Three Bitches

I'm so excited I just might pee myself.

Bonanza Jellybean, PaintingChef and I are happy to introduce you to our new site, We Three Bitches.

Please check it out, and shower Bonanza with compliments because it looks GORGEOUS and she did all the work.

So um, go visit it. Yup. That's all I have to say. This is a whore post.

Allow me to pimp our blog just once more.

Okay, done.

PS- Today at work I wanted SOOOO badly to turn to my two male officemates and say, "You guys, I have to poop really bad," and then proceed going about my work. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Though, I did imagine it so I sat there giggling to myself the whole afternoon.

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You...

Some fucked up funny shit, that’s what’s coming soon. Yours truly is honored to be teaming up with two of her bestest internet buds, PaintingChef and Bonanza Jellybean, to start an advice blog because we enjoy telling people what to do. Well, at least I do. We’re dubbing ourselves the Unholy Trinity because it made us all cackle evilly and ergo was deemed appropriate. It’s still in the works, and we’ve got to get the site together, and when we do, you’ll be the first to know. While discussing the minutiae of starting up an advice blog, we decided of utmost importance would be people who need some fucking advice. We’re quick like that with figgering shit out. Anyway, that is where you all come in.

Are you confused about shit? Got a question, be it blog related, relationship related or are you simply wondering how to get that stain out of your blue dress (ahem, where were we in 1998, erm, actually I’m not sure I want to know, or could even remember)? Then you must e-mail us at wethreebitches@yahoo.com. We'll do our best to advise thee and promise to deliver the advice with plenty of snark.

I will tell you one thing, though, so you don’t have to bother asking. Underwear that your cousin Dee gives you at your bridal shower is SO not intended to be worn for eight hours at work. If you look in your panty drawer, see bridal shower gift undies, and entertain the thought of putting off the laundry one more day, reconsider. It’s not worth it. Seriously. I mean, unless you're okay with having little jewels up your ass for eight hours. But I can tell you firsthand, the shit's not fun.

Oh yeah, remember to pay a visit to my little thumbnail friend over there in the sidebar. Ted rules. Come on. You know you want to click on it. It's right over thar----------------------------------->

I'm an Internet Slut...

I'm whoring myself elsewhere in the blogverse today. Namely, on my good buddy, PaintingChef's blog. If you're a crazy ass stalker, and would like to follow me wherever I might post, or if you're just interested in reading *something* written by my lame ass on this, the 13th day of October, as I'm not posting anything else, go here.