Friday, August 19, 2005


Because Lemmy is God

Ryan and I went to the funeral home for his deceased co-worker last night. Needless to say, it was extremely rough and highly emotional. We stayed about a half an hour and then went to get some dinner with his boss. As we were getting in the van, Ryan started messing with the CDs and said, “well… THAT was rough.”


“I almost lost it there for a minute.”

“Me too.”

“I wonder if some Motorhead would help?”

“Probably. Some people have prayer, other people have Motorhead.”


By the book

My pregnancy has been so normal that it’s almost boring. Everything has been FINE. Just fine! “How are you feeling?” “Great!” “Really? You haven’t been sick or anything?” “NO!!!!” Why is that so hard to believe? And why have I heard that question 18 times in the past 2 weeks? It's like people WANT me to feel terrible and tell them how much I hate being pregnant. But I don't! REALLY.

Now that I've hit my third trimester, I get up to pee twice a night. It just started 2 nights ago, like my body has some inner clock that said, “oh, it’s third trimester time! Baby, start pushing on that bladder!” I constantly feel like I have to pee. I’m wondering when the heartburn will start.


BTK, have it your way.

Why is it that BTK reminds me of Burger King? I can’t hear anyone say BTK and take it seriously. I think of flame broiled whoppers. You’d think as sick as this guy was, he could come up with a more original serial killer name. Serial killers in the past have had some kick ass names, like the Son of Sam, the Boston Strangler, Jack the Ripper, the Zodiac Killer… they all strike fear into your heart. But when I hear BTK, I can only think about how sick I’d get when I used to eat those nasty fries. You really need a name to match your notoriety if you’re going to go that route. I know his thing was bind, torture and kill, but puh-lease. 30 years of killing sprees and living your life as a church congregation president and Boy Scout leader and you couldn’t get a little creative? He so needs to get over himself. Like he fucking invented that method. Sick bastard.

Ugh, now I have pictures of chicken fries in my head and it makes me want to vomit.


Push it real good

Ryan and I toured the maternity ward of Butler Hospital on Wednesday night after Lamaze class. I got to see the Jacuzzi (I hope I get to use it!) and one of the birthing rooms. As the nurse giving us the tour was trying to explain how things worked in the birthing room, we heard some screaming down the hall. She ignored it and continued, but I turned and looked at Ryan, and he stared back at me. We heard something like this,


“You can do it! You can do it! Now PUSH! PUUUUSSSHHHH!”

I almost started crying. But then we got to look at the BEH-BEHS!!! I wanted to eat them up. They were so little and smushy looking. I can’t believe I’m going to have something so little and smushy. Do I really have to wait 12 more weeks?

Well, ok, I guess I can wait, considering we haven’t even put the crib together that we got SIX WEEKS AGO!

Slackers. That’s what we are.

Have a good weekend.

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