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May 2007
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July 2007

Prognosis Negative

People. I'm not pregnant. Please don't take this the wrong way, but oh, my god, please. Please stop leaving comments -- even jokingly -- on entries telling me I'm pregnant because I'm cranky or emotional or you know, have the stomach flu. I know when to pee on a stick and I know when there is no point to peeing on a stick because I just had my period six damn days ago and when you guys leave comments saying OMG YOU'RE PREGNANT I feel the need to disclose the fact that I just had my period six damn days ago. And thus I further alienate my three male readers and how the hell am I expected to land that lucrative Girls Gone Wild ad campaign with no male readers a lot of goddamned period talk? I know none of you mean any harm with those comments, but they make me sad. (It's not you, it's me, if I may continue piling on the Seinfeld references.) I guess I'm not so very at peace with our little plan after all, since hey! We came up with that plan a WHOLE MONTH ago and DAMMIT, I am not pregnant yet! Fuck... Read more →

Paranoid Android

JASON: So. Anything interesting happen today? AMY: I spent the whole day dealing with shit. JASON: Ooh, was there some kind of Internet drama? AMY: No. Like actual, physical shit. I spent the whole day dealing with feces. JASON. Ooh, Noah? AMY: Well, yes. Noah kept saying he had to go apoopoo but wouldn't go on the potty and he wanted to watch the Potty Time With Elmo video 14 dozen times and then Max pooped in the office twice and Ceiba crapped on the stairs. JASON: Uh. AMY: Yeah. It was an enriching day. I do good work. *** I've been in a bit of a cranky funk this week and feeling immensely sorry for myself for no reason at all. Well, okay, unless you count this as a valid reason for funkitude: Of course, after cursing the coffee maker out for RISING AGAINST ME, FOR MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE, I realized I'd forgotten to put the inner plastic basket thing in before the filter and thus this was all my own fault but COME ON, I was still totally ready to cry about it. Or, you know, grab a straw and suck that shit up off the countertop. Same... Read more →

Not that I'm keeping score or anything, at all

Saturday morning. Am in shower. Suddenly hear Noah wailing just outside the door. Jason enters, looking white as a sheet, holding our screaming red-faced pissed-off child. "He fell down the stairs. I was RIGHT THERE and he just...fell all the way down the stairs." POSSIBLE REACTIONS, GUESS WHICH ONE REALLY HAPPENED: 1) Jump out of shower, assess physical state of child, apply mama-type comfort and kisses. 2) Trust husband's judgment that child is okay, apply wifely-type comfort that these things happen and I understand, you know how I understand. 3) Pump fists in air, shout "YOU FAIL! HA HA," attempt Gob's chicken dance from Arrested Development, almost slip and break hip in shower, shout "IT WAS WORTH IT" at slammed bathroom door after regaining footing. Read more →