Positivity

My apologies in advance, Internet. It’s about to get all Debbie Downer up in here.

“Hey, do you think Bob’s single? He’s handsome, smart, and charming. Of course, so was Ted Bundy.”

Cheer & Jeer: This Is Why I’m Hot

CHEER: I got my eyes checked yesterday, and I do not have astigmatism.

JEER: I need reading glasses.

…yeah.

Get Back, Honky Cat

Today’s post is one that kind of hurts me to write, so I shall begin with a soothing layer of Elton John.

Ahhh, that’s better. Also: cocaine is one hell of a drug.

Stats

We went to Sadie’s 4-month check-up on Friday, and someone would like to take this opportunity to express her argument against immunizations:

*Sniff*

“Who’s That Whore On The Bar?”

So. Bachelorette parties. It seems I had a few. And by “a few,” I mean “somewhere around ten,” because the year I got married, my awesome friends just could not stop throwing me parties. Also, my impending marriage was a great excuse for us all to, you know, GET KNEE-WALKING DRUNK.

May you ask that God be present in this most holiest of unions. Also, may He bring some Jello shooters.

100 Things, Two Announcements, And One Big-Ass Coincidence

So, the other day I was catching up on my blog-reading, as I’d fallen pretty far behind for some reason. I can’t really remember why, though…

Oh yeah. That’s right.

Nostalgia

…rhymes with “neuralgia,” which my grandmother had when I was little, so I used to hear that word a lot and now I always, ALWAYS think of “neuralgia” whenever someone says “nostalgia.”

That was possibly one of the most boring things I’ve ever shared. Do not read my blog before driving or operating heavy machinery.

I’m a Motherlover

INTERNET! Before we go any further, you must watch this if you haven’t already.

It would be my honor to be your new stepfather…

Those Are Not Where I Left Them: Marvels of the Postpartum Body

When I was 19, I got a tattoo of a dragon on my hip. Getting a tattoo was something I’d always wanted to do, and I used to doodle tattoo ideas all over my lecture notes in high school.

THANK GOD I did not go with my original tattoo idea, because it involved a heart and looked somewhat like this and would sort of give the impression that I give handy-jays at truck stops for a living.

Check Yo’self Before You Wreck Yo’self

Over the weekend, I found the “Pregnancy Journal” that a friend gave to me when she heard I went and got myself properly knocked up. During junior high and high school I used to keep journals religiously, so I thought the Pregnancy Journal would be a fun way to keep record of my transformation into a real, live, burrito-inhaling pregnant lady. And I actually did write in it for, oh, the first ten weeks or so. Looking at the journal when I ran across it this weekend, I wondered why I neglected it past that point. And then I remembered: I tend to only keep journals when I am kind of miserable, like those first nausea- and exhaustion-filled weeks of pregnancy, and MY ENTIRE FUCKING EXISTENCE throughout junior high and high school.

Good Lord.