Good Times, Bad Times, You Know I've Had My Share
August 09, 2005
Yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary. To celebrate, I assembled a toy box from IKEA while Jason was stuck at work until 9 p.m. because his job sucks and that's totally just me saying that, People From Jason's Job, and you can't get mad at him because his very pregnant wife was home alone cursing profusely at pieces of particle board on her wedding anniversary and decided to say that you suck on the Internet the next day.
We actually celebrated Big Crazy Style over the weekend and went to our favorite restaurant where they prepared a bazillion courses of amazing food for us and served me sparkling water in a champagne flute. And I thought the woman at the next table was STILL giving me a dirty look about it until I realized she was mad because she was very, very drunk and decided, upon seeing me in all my basketball-belly glory, that SHE WANTS A CHILD and proceeded to pick a fight with the man she was dining with AT QUITE A LOUD VOLUME.
WHY WON'T YOU GIVE HER A CHILD? HER LIFE IS EMPTY. EMPTY! EMPTY LIKE THAT SECOND BOTTLE OF WINE SHE ORDERED. AND SHE WAAAAANTS A CHILLLLLLD.
Did I mention that both she and her dining companion were at least 60 years old?
So that was very fun, in a trainwrecky kind of way, especially when, as they were leaving, the guy let her walk out first and yelled FUUUUUCK YOOOOOUUUUU!! when the door swung shut after her.
(I swear to God, we're going to read about them in the paper some day after she defies all medical logic and gives birth to octuplets or something.)
What was also fun? Was when Jason gave me my anniversary gift, which is so incredibly awesome and ridiculous I'm not even going to tell you about it. Because no, I don't deserve it, and no, he really shouldn't have, what with the baby and the college fund and the whatever, and yes, he is fully aware of what a pain in the ass I am and yet he still enjoys spoiling me to no end.
Anyway. It both begins and ends with the letter "D" and no, it is not a bra.
What was not so fun? And is kind of the reason I didn't immediately write some entry about OH MY GOD YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT SHINY SPARKLY THINGS JASON JUST GAVE ME AND ALSO LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE BATSHIT CRAZY PEOPLE WE SAW AT DINNER?
My mom got her pathology results back from her second surgery. The cancer originates from the ducts, not the breast tissue. There are no clear margins, and it could very well be scattered throughout the entire breast. This severely lowers the chances of success with radiation and drugs, so her doctors have advised her to have a masectomy instead.
I'm trying to stay positive and busy and take out all my many frustrations on IKEA furniture, but it's hard.
We're all very, very sad over here. Bummed, even. And really ready for some good fucking news for once.
Babalah boy? We're all counting on you. Please be adorable and squishy.