Slap a curly wig on me and call me

A little over a month ago I wrote about getting thwacked by that stinging red dodgeball. Now, you'd think that having felt that welt once before, I would be hypersensitive to it's evil ways. If that's what you think, you give me too much credit because when that crimson rubber sphere came flying at me, I forgot to duck.

Could I be more cryptic (spoken with pure Chandler Bing emphasis on MORE)? If you are interested in more of the story, I'll let some others tell it for me.

Start with a Cup O'Joe.

My sister, The Editor discusses the weather.

The Editor questions medical "science."

A Cup O'Joe to finish it off.

So, that's where I am. A 37 weeks pregnant, 39 year old orphan girl.

All I'm sayin' is that sun better freakin' come up tomorrow!

FALLready

Look, I LOVE living in Southern California. I love the beach. I love Hollywood. I love that there are Del Taco drive throughs open till the wee hours of the morning on each end of my block.

What I have yet to fall in love with in the Southland is the lack of clearly defined "seasons." Today is supposed to be the first day of Fall. But, here in the Valley, it might as well be July 4th. The forecast for the next few days doesn't say sweaters and hot coffee drinks. It says flip flops and iced latte's.

Fri	Sat	Sun
Partly Cloudy	Clear	Clear
72° | 57°	86° | 60°	91° | 59°

Come on. I want to wear socks again and cuddle up under my quilt dreaming of what yummy comfort food I'm gonna make for dinner.

What's In A Name

With the scheduled arrival of the Great Pumpkin just 26 (gulp) days away, there has been a steady increase in curiosity as to what we will name the little thing. Each time the question is asked the resulting answer of "I don't know, we haven't decided yet" is met with great disdain. But it's true. We really and truly have not decided on a name. There's no short list - there's no list at all. In fact, about the only time we've even discussed it is when other people have pressed us to give an opinion on one of their suggestions.

I'm not sure why everyone is so concerned with this detail. Is it because they are holding off having our silver rattle from Tiffany's engraved? Is it because they are planning to ask the Pope to bless her and the old pontiff needs a name in order to give his Papal blessing? Or, is it because they think they have a say in the decision? My original plan was to not tell anyone the name until the baby was born because I have heard way too many "well meaning friends" voice negative feedback toward the name choices of people's babies.

"You're not serious? Are you trying to make her a dork?"

When we choose the name, it will be because we think it suits her. It won't be because someone wanted to name their dog that or they think it would sound cool in a song. Despite everyone's disbelief, that name isn't going to materialize until there is an actual living, breathing baby. So, for gosh sakes, stop asking!

If you are that interested in names, I suggest checking out the Adult DVD Empire's database of pornstars. You can see if the name you were thinking of is already taken. It's a much better use of your time than wasting your breath on asking us what we are gonna name Pumpkin.

Oh the inhuMANity

First, let me say how incredibly lucky I am. I know that. LA-B is the A-class, numero uno, hands down, best guy on the planet. I don't for a moment of any day doubt or question that. But it's moments like this here right now that I want to get down on my fat bloated knees and thank the heavens above for my Schmoopity Boo.

Why this sudden burst of gratitude for my husband?

I came into work this morning to find one of my coworkers in a state of shock. She's been seeing this guy for over a year and just learned that he is not at all who he pretends to be. Honestly folks, this is the stuff of a Jerry Springer episode.

It seems coworker girl (we'll call her Melanie) started dating Eric (not innocent, so no need to protect his identity, right) about a year and a half ago. His job takes him on the road quite a bit and at one point it seems that Eric hooked up with a girl in one of his ports. This caused a rift with "Melanie", but eventually she believed him when he said it was a one time thing and would never happen again. (um - check out separate rant below)*

So, just a month or so ago, Eric found himself in need of a new living situation when his roommate decided not to renew the lease. Since he is on the road more often than not, he and "Melanie" decided he should just move into her apartment. After all, he'd only be there a few days out of every few months. Moving in means all his stuff is there, all his mail comes there, letters, bills, etc. And occasionally "Melanie" is asked to pay one of these bills.

Last night, Eric's cell phone bill arrived. "Melanie" opened it up so she could tell him the total due. She noticed an unusually large number of calls to a one particular phone number and they all seemed to immediately precede or follow calls to her own phone number. Curious, "Melanie" looked up the area code.

SURPRISE!!! It's the area code to the state where the aforementioned "one time only girl" lives. "Melanie" admits now that she had a suspicion that something wasn't quite right for a while. But she never could have dreamed what she was about to learn.

She called the girl (we'll call her Emma as she does seem to be innocent in all of this). It went a little something like this...

Hi Emma, you don't know me. My name is "Melanie" and I am calling about Eric. Would you mind telling me what your relationship to him is?

Eric and I are together. We are moving to Seattle together at the end of the year.

This led to a lengthy conversation filled with revelations that he had been stringing these 2 girls along for nearly a year. He had managed to shuffle them in and out of his hotel rooms at various ports within hours of each other. He had convinced one that he was sick and highly contagious for a week while the other visited from out of state. He had lied and cheated like some sort of maniacal mastermind and these 2 girls bought it hook line and sinker.

I feel sick. Really. I've met this guy and he seemed like an ok cat. He even had "Melanie" give me a huge box of baby clothes that his daughter (from a previous relationship) had grown out of. But now, I kind of want to burn them.

How do people like that wake up and get out of bed every day? How do they look themselves in the mirror? YUCK.

Anyway, this has been the topic of conversation around the office for most of the day and at some point, a coworker suggested "Melanie" post her story on a website called Don't Date Him Girl.Com. I had never heard of this sight, so I went to check it out. It's pretty entertaining. Kind of like looking at a car wreck minus the shattered glass and blood. But most of all, it made me so thankful to be married to a guy who would never in a million years even live on the same planet as Eric, much less consider behaving like him.

LA-B is the best guy in the world!

* There is a scene in most horror movies when someone stands at the top of the basement stairs and hesitates for a moment. It's at that moment that we, as an audience, find ourselves gripping the theater seat and screaming "don't do it. Don't go down the stairs." I think that same moment exists in real life in a relationship when one person tells their significant other that they will never cheat on them again. I hear these stories and I grip the arms of whatever chair I am in and I think to myself "don't do it. Don't get back together with him." I refrain from saying outloud, though. Because people don't REALLY want your advice. And, inevitably, they all end up getting slaughtered by the louse at some point just like the character in the horror movie. Oh well.

My Brain Is Shrinking

Well, the countdown is on. The predicted arrival date for the Great Pumpkin is just 4 weeks and 2 days away. This means several things. First, this Valley Grrrl is feeling a bit uncomfortable. I'm exhausted all the time. I get winded walking up or down even a small flight of stairs. I spend more time in the bathroom than any other room. And, as it turns out, my brain seems to be shrinking. I've read some theories that the brain actually shrinks 3-5% during pregnancy. Although I can't seem to find any solid medical documentation of this, I am a firm believer.

Just a few minutes ago I was down in the bathroom here at work. My business was complete and I was standing at the sink washing my hands. I turned on the water, wet my hands and reached up to the soap dispenser to get some soap on my hands. No big deal, right? Perfectly normal. I proceeded to wash my hands under the water like anyone would do. Then, I turned off the water with my forearm, reached up to the soap dispenser and put more soap on my hands. I turned the water back on and washed my hands again. I did this 3 times before I managed to break the cycle and reach for the paper towel dispenser after turning off the water.

This kind of thing is happening to me all day everyday. I've actually gotten up from my desk, walked down the 2 flights of stairs, through the kitchen, through the lobby and into the bathroom before I remembered that I was actually just getting up to pull something off the printer that sits right outside my office.

Oh, what fun this last month is going to be. Too bad I will never remember it!