I'm still too busy to post. But I'm not too busy to spend much of the day correspondin' with my bitches. And...bitching with them. About everything, because the entire world SUCKS for us and wah wah wah we hate everything.
Anyway, I'm really tired of looking at that short post with the stupidly long title, so I'm doing the laziest thing ever and posting a bunch of goddamn emails, which are only vaguely funny but mostly not, but y'all should just be happy that I'm not flooding YOUR inbox with this garbage.
(Except for the NotifyList email about this garbage. Sorry about that. Luckily you probably will never, ever receive it because NotifyList hates me.)
AMY & ZOOT ARE LOSING THEIR SHIT:
A BALLET IN THREE ACTS
(Location, Zoot's site, in a follow-up post regarding her recent tragedy that has not interfered with her ability to do good hair, where Amy left the following un-helpful comment regarding some possible coping strategies.)
You could also come to my house where we could weep bitter bitchy tears together and throw things.
Or watch movies and get manicures. Either one.
Well - two nights ago? Amidst profanity and tears? I spent a good three or four hours bitching about anyone in my life I could think of that might have harmed me in one way or another. Were you five minutes late for my dinner party? I hate you - you stupid whore. Did you break one of my dishes? Go to hell, jackass. Did you go slower than me on the highway? Death to you and your family. I was bitchy, ruthless, and incredibly catty. It was incredibly therapeutic and I'm SO happy I have a husband who doesnt hold those tirades against me.
So - how about you come over next time and we'll bring the blog world into my world of snotty bitching?
AMY WHIIIINES BACK:
It's a date. Hell, I can bitch about people who've done me wrong even without a life tragedy to blame. Mostly because I hate most people. But that's the beauty of the Internet: you have a place to bitch about people you hate AND a place to meet more people to bitch about.
Also, my period is 21 hours late, but I've been cramping for three days. Think it's about time I went to the store for a pee stick to properly dash my unrealistic and foolhardy dreams?
ZOOT GETS MAD:
I am personally denouncing ALL pregnancy tests from here on out. They are evil inventions designed to get my hopes up and destroy all home in a matter of 120 seconds. And I don't need to pay nine dollars for that. So I say, keep your pee in the toilet and keep hoping. If in 5 months you feel a kick inside your abdomen? You're pregnant.
(And you waited 21 hours? I start taking tests FIVE DAYS before my period is supposed to be here.)
See, the reason I'm not all, OMIGOD I MUST PEE ON A STICK THIS INSTANT this month (which is a first), is because I've taken the stance of the realist. Let's review the facts, jack: I'm not on Clomid or anything. (Because I'm scared to death of it after how INSANE it made me before.) I've had one regular period since I went off it. Um, woo? And considering how stressed out and upset I've been this month, I'm fairly certain my cycle has just gone all wonky again so really, "late" is a relative word for something that will probably wait another 3 months to start, just to piss me the fuck off.
Also, I don't think we had nearly enough sex, because I'm getting really, really tired of sex.
ZOOT GETS EVEN:
Thank you GOD. I'm glad I'm not the only one. For those three days we were pregnant (those were the good ole days) this week? MrZ was all "Oh, damn, I was enjoying trying" and I was "Shut the hell up. I need a break. Sex sucks."
Oh - and we have a "consultation" next week to, and this is a direct quote, "come up with a plan of action against your body". Um. Okay?
AMY STOPS BEING POLITE:
The hell? Please tell your doctor that your body is not the enemy here. It's everybody else in the whole world's fault that you miscarried. Stupid doctor.
It's inauguration day here in DC, and planes and helicopters keep flying over my office, and they're pissing me off because I've been watching too much 24 and am convinced that I am going to get blown up by terrorists.
It's been a very long and emotional 21 hours. Wait! 22 hours! Happy Birthday Phantom Pregnancy!!
ZOOT STARTS BEING REAL:
Emotional? Thats a sign of pregnancy!!! Raging emotions!!!
Yeah. I know. But I do it day 24 - day 30 every month...totally look at any and all symptoms as possible signs of pregnancy.
If you see Jack Bauer, tell him to call me.
AMY BRINGS BODILY FUNCTIONS BACK INTO IT:
Oh, I see sure-fire pregnancy signs all the time. I'm fatigued! I'm emotional! My boobs are sore! I'm craving junk food! I'm gassy!
One time I thought I was pregnant DURING my period because it seemed lighter than usual. Am stupid.
And if these emails didn't make us both sound like hysterical bitchy harpies, they'd make a GREAT entry.
ZOOT CHANGES THE SUBJECT:
Because unfortunately by "hysterical" you don't mean "HI-LARIOUS", you mean "IN-SANE". Of course, like we're really fooling anyone into believing otherwise, right?
I have been listening to a Top 40 radio station (shut the HELL UP Kelly Clarkson, I take back all my votes for you because I'm over you already) all day trying to win a family fun pack for "Racing Stripes". A movie my son doesn't even WANT to see but HAS to see because his conservative friend's moms think "Are We There Yet" is too risque. My life has hit an all new low.
AMY STOPS MAKING SENSE ALTOGETHER:
Hee. HEEEEEE. If you go to that movie I just might never stop making fun of you.
(Ducks from inevitable karmic anvil that will drop when I become I parent and have to take my child to a movie about a band of talking office supplies who travel across the country to compete in the National Spelling Bee with Fran Drescher as the voice of Sharpie, the electric pencil sharpener with attitude.)
ZOOT SUMS IT UP:
I think we are Hysterically Insane Unpregnant Women, by the way.
Twice the crazy, Twice the funny, with none of the embryos.