Man Moods

The other night, on one of Kirk's rare early evenings off, we were sitting around watching the latest Scrubs. I'm not sure you guys watch this, but if you don't, you really should. It's hilarious and sad and everything a television show should be. (The new show following it? Teachers? Not so much.) Anyway. This particular episode was the one where Turk and Carla finally find out they're pregnant.

Kirk and I watched it, then he turned to me with moist eyes and said, "We really shouldn't be watching this."

Me: "Probably not."

Kirk: "I just want a baby SO MUCH!"

Do men have biological clocks? Because if they do, Kirk's is quickly tickin' the minutes away to meltdown. He is the one who gets teary over movies and tv shows, he's the one who points out babies in the store, he's the one who has been pushing for this whole baby thing since about a year after we got married.

I love that Kirk wants a baby, I really do. But I'm scared of what he'll do if we really have trouble. It would be bad enough for me, as I can get emotional and obsessed all on my own. But I really couldn't stand it if I thought I had let him down.

Kirk will be a great dad. I only have to look at how he treats our pets to know he'll be a great dad. I can only beam when he comes home every night and greets Hercules with "How's my big bruiser?", then gets down on the (hairy) floor with him to rub his belly and wrestle. Or how he picks up delicate little trembling Keeta and cuddles her when it storms out side. He may be large, he may work at the prison, but damn if he isn't a big teddy bear.

The point of my ramblings? There's really none. Other than, I hope it happens soon. For Kirk's sake even more than my own.

Gotta Love Voicemail

I got the funniest voicemail message the other day. It was obviously a wrong number and went something like this:

"Hello? Claire? Claire is that you? Listen, Mike does NOT KNOW about the pizza, so don't tell him, okay? Call me back and let me know you got this message!"

I so want to call the number back and say, "Listen, I'm not Claire, but I have to know: what's up with the pizza?" Would that be wrong?

In other news, I have the Pimple That Would Not Die. And it's in my nostril. While that's not as ugly as, say, one on your forehead, it's damn inconvenient and IT HURTS!! Every night I think I get rid of it and every morning, it regenerates itself to be even bigger and badder than the day before.

In yet other news, I've finally crossed the line into becoming ONE OF THOSE WOMEN and joined a pregnancy forum today. Now, I only did it because I had one question I wanted answered, but still. I feel like I have failed myself and my vow to never become a woman who uses the abbreviation 'ttc'. If you don't know what that is, oh pregnancy forum virgins, it's 'trying to conceive', not to be confused with tlc, which is the singing group with the one with crazy hair who has sickle cell anemia, the one who dated Usher and the one with the eyepatch who lit her husband's shoes on fire and then died in a car accident in Hondurus. Or somewhere.

So anyway. It appears The Crazy has begun.

Week of Sloth

It's that time of month again--the few days after deadline is over at work and I become a complete slug. Here is what I have accomplished in the past 2 1/2 days:

1. Finished off the rest of the Andes mints on my desk. You know the Andes mints that you sometimes get at restaurants? Well, I had a whole box of them from Valentine's day (thanks to our elderly, yet eerily flirtatious office manager) and I finished 'em up today. This is no small feat, people. There were ten of those puppies left when I got into work this morning.

2. Taken five ovulation tests. It's gotten to the point where I just leave my 'pee-cup' sitting beside the toilet. Yesterday Kirk asked, "Um, this glass by the toilet? That's one I probably shouldn't drink out of, right?" Right, honey.

3. Chosen fifteen things I want to buy off the Sephora website. Everyone needs an $18.50 tube of lipstick, right? RIGHT?!

4. Repeatedly insulted my co-worker. But he seems to enjoy it.

5. Received three new books in the mail. When I get books in the mail, I tend to carry them around with me, read the backs, and obsessively rearrange them on my bookshelf. I actually think I enjoy receiving books more than I like reading them.

6. Read a whole bunch of celebrity gossip blogs. Did you know that Tom Cruise is going to force Katie to give birth secretly on a boat? No? Well, now you do.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my week (or so) of sloth I have each month, even though I inevitably come out of it fatter, less motivated and a little stupider (gossip blogs will do that to you). Now where can I go get me some more Andes mints??

Adventures in (Not)Sleeping

Have you ever had one of those nights where it seems like everyone and everything is against you getting a good night's sleep? Last night, Sunday, was one of those nights for me. It started out with a Headache. Not a headache, people, a Headache. One of those Headaches that feels like you've got a vice on your head, pens jabbing into your eyes and an angry badger gnawing on your nerve endings, all at once. Being the smart person I am, I decided to go to bed early to get rid of said Headache. And this is what transpired:

10:45 pm-11:30 pm: Toss and turn. Every position makes me nauseous or increases the pain tenfold. Flip and flop and try not to bawl like baby.

11:30pm-1:00 am: Sleep in little fits, during which time I have a frightening dream that involves my best friend's sister's sticker book. It may not sound frightening, but damn if it wasn't pants-pissingly scary last night.

1:00am-2:30 am: Kirk comes to bed and commences the snoring. Every time I smack him and tell him to roll over, he comes up with a new half-awake, rambling insult. I do believe one of them involved the words 'finger' and 'butthole'.

2:35 am: Decide to pack it up and move into the living room to sleep on couch.

2:35 am-2:45 am: Sleep blissfully on couch.

2:45 am: Hercules joins me in the living room, falls asleep on the easy chair, and commences the snoring.

2:45 am-4:00 am: Get up repeatedly to readjust Hercules' head so he is no longer snoring. In between getting up, have another frightening dream which I cannot recall and don't want to, thank you very much.

4:30 am: Hercules finally stops snoring.

4:35 am: Shitty (the cat) begins knocking everything off the kitchen counters and yowling. Get up and shut her in the basement. She promptly opens the basement door and gets back on the counter.

5:00 am: Kirk wanders in, lays on me, and apologizes for snoring. I say something to the tune of "Get the hell away from me and let me sleep goddammit!!!"

5:00 am-7:00 am: Finally get two hours of uninterrupted sleep, then wake to find I have a scratchy throat, swimmy head and awful taste in my mouth that will not go away no matter how much I brush with the new, industrial strength toothpaste that could knock the stink off a water buffalo.

I also woke to find it is snowing like a motherfucker out, even though it's supposed to be Spring. Ha! And it's deadline at work! And if you haven't noticed yet, I am in SUPER DOOPER BITCH MODE! And I'm fertile! So I'm supposed to actually have sex with the gah-damn snoring husband when I feel like crap! And.....I'm done now. Please tell me you've all had a much better Monday?

Trading The Crazy for The Boring

Have you ever had a stretch of a week or two when absolutely nothing of interest happens? Where people ask you what's new and the only thing you can come up with is, "Uhhhhhh...."? Where you're perfectly happy to sit around and read books and watch good television (or even bad television for that matter) and eat Bugles (damn, do I love Bugles), but then when you think back on the past few days you realize how absolutely boring and uneventful your life has been? Yep, that's been me. We're in the Two Weeks Where You Know You're Not Pregnant stage, so no crazy fake symptoms or wine dilemmas or overdose of pregnancy tests, though I am still reading the pregnancy books as if I'm cramming for a labor midterm. And most of those books, they suck. Let's have a little humor, people! And enough with the terrible illustrations!

I do have a few ideas marinating in regards to the blog, such as a monthly book entry about what I've been reading (and seeing what you're reading)...and that's about it. When I said 'a few ideas', I obviously meant 'one lame idea'.

Now, I'm not complaining about The Boring. I kind of like The Boring. But there is no reason to blog anymore until The Boring is traded for another round of The Crazy. Or perhaps even The Ridiculous. I would even settle for The Slightly Amusing.

Oh, Really?

I went to the library yesterday to check out a few books and some books on CD, which I just love listening to in my car (current selection: Twisted by Jonathan Kellerman). Anyway, I make my selections and mosey on up to the counter. The libary workers in this city are a strange lot and usually take on the form of A: older, frumpy ladies who are sweet, B: older, frumpy ladies who seem to be bitter that they are either older or frumpy or both, C: younger, hippy looking chicks who probably graduated from the University with a Masters in fiction writing or D: youngish guys who have the look of Startrek groupies. My librarian on this day fell into category D.

So I give Spock my books and say: "I don't have my library card. Can you look it up?" While I don't make a habit of not taking my library card when I go to the library, it usually doesn't pose a problem.

Spock: Do you know where your library card is?

Me: Um, yes, I switched purses this morning and I left it in my old purse.

Spock: Silence.

Me: (who has a bad habit of blithering on and on when people leave uncomfortable silences) Well, you know, I had it in my wallet and then I just took some stuff out of my wallet to put in my new purse and it didn't make it. I didn't plan on coming to the library today and...etc. etc.

Spock: (Finally looking up my card number). Well, as long as you know where it is. I always make a habit of telling people that if someone finds their card, it's just like they're finding a Visa card. They can just go crazy.

Me: Oh. (Takes her books and leaves.)

What?? Just like a Visa? Go crazy with my library card? Oh yes, I can see it now. Random unsavory person finds my purse. Rifles through it. Hmm, $50 in cash? Well, not bad. Five credit cards? Decent. Wait, what is this?? Could it be...a library card? (Laughs maniacally). Just wait and see the havoc I will wreak with this! Hello, crappy mystery paperbacks! Hello, all the shitty workout videos on VHS a criminal could desire! Hello, back issues of National Geographic! This is better than a credit card any day of the week!

People can be such dumbasses.

Failure of the Sperm

Yes, that's right. I'm blaming our first month's failure to have a baby on Kirk's sperm. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear that.

Here's an update on our unfruitful month.

Number of pregnancy tests taken: 7. That's right, I said 7. Seven! I'm a freak of nature. Thank goodness five of those were the cheapies off the Internet or I'd be going into debt because of fucking pregnancy tests. Talk about ripping off those who are already in a precarious state of mind. $15 for a damn pregnancy test?? What a scam.

Number of phantom pregnancy symptoms: Innumerable. Let's see, I had nausea, fatigue, gnawing hunger, pelvic twinges, changes in the taste of food, breast pain...obviously all created by my babyfever-addled brain.

Things given up in anticipation of pregnancy: Caffeine. Excedrin Tension. Nitrates. Unpasteurized cheese. Cocaine. Okay, fine, I'm still on the cocaine. A girl needs her vices, right? Hardy har har. See how my empty womb makes me funny?

Number of 'Early Pregnancy Symptoms' websites looked at: Holy crap, I don't think I can count that high. All I can say is, there's some crazy-ass bitches out there. Have you ever looked at a Trying to Conceive Forum??? That's a whole lotta crazy. I don't have that much crazy yet. Please let me never have that much crazy.