The Most Boring Post Ever

At the risk of tediously angsting up the place;

OMG. I am so. fucking. bored.

*heaving sigh*

In other, more interesting news, I watched Little Miss Sunshine with my mom the other day, and I liked it so much that I watched it again with Carl that night. Ok, that was in no way interesting news. But the movie was very good. You should see it, if you haven't yet.

Dear Pregnant Self,

You think you're real cute, dontcha? Well, you are, and you should enjoy it. What other time in your life are you going to gain 25 very noticable pounds and have people telling you how beautiful you look every time they see you? I mean, soon, it's going to be "Don't worry, the rest will come off eventually" from people you don't even know, and then you are going to have to choke a bitch in the diaper aisle and possibly go to jail. Honestly. You're not going to ask the bitch how she thinks you look, cause you think you look good, but she'll tell you "not to worry" anyway. When the time comes, remember: She deserves choking.

Also, I know you have no pretty, glowing illusions about how a baby is going to bring you and your man closer together. From what I recall, you are sure that she will arrive, smash your world into pulp, then eat that pulp for breakfast, and you're not wrong there. She will. The pulp of your former life is her favorite taco topping. And you're not wrong about the other thing either. Right now, you're relationships is all, "Let's learn how to make Thai food!" and "I love making love to you." Well, soon, it's going to be "Please tell me. How do you screw up Hamburger Helper?" and "Um...sorry about that. I'll make it up to you, I promise." But don't despair. The relationship you have built will get you through this.

You will watch Primetime specials on how babies put monumental stress on marriages, then turn to each other, hi-five, and laugh maniacally, "Joke's on them! We're not even married! Suckers!" You will amuse yourselves, not with spontanious and romantic trips to New Hope, but with the ever-critical who-can-shove-the-most-grapes-in-their-mouth contest. (He can. I tapped out at 33 and he just kept packing them in. Unsettling.) True, there will be less Friday nights out at karioke or the movies. But there will be more Friday nights spent clinging to each other under the covers, hands lovingly clamped over each other's ears to block out the crying. You can't get that kind of intimacy anywhere else, I promise.

You don't remember what "alone time" means or what you would do with it if you had it (probably sleep), but you still go to the grocery store together and mock bad Soccer Mom haircuts and grandma-panty lines under velour sweat suits. You still love each other, and in some ways you didn't expect, you are a lot closer. It's going to be okay.

Love,
Future Self

Sugar and Spice

...if the spice is red pepper flakes, or perhaps some lethal curry powder. You know. The kind of spice that keeps you up all night, clutching at your various parts in agony and wondering if the light of day will indeed come again, or if it is just another half-remembered dream you once had...

The sugar part is still sweet though. Makes you briefly forget all pain; Indian-food induced or otherwise.

Just a Little Animosity

Dear Vet Office Receptionist,

Believe me, I realize that it takes a long long time for nails to dry. Please, whatever you do, do not let the fact that my cat is on death's door get in the way of a pleasing, uniform sheen to your now Tinkerbell-pink claws. And yes, the fact that you pulled out Sympathy Card #17, which reads "It's so hard when our pets get older" even though our cat is inexplicably wasting away at 18 months of age, that totally makes up for your complete inability to be bothered by our presence in your fine establishment. Just see if we don't walk out without paying every single time we come her. Just see.

Dear Pediatric Office Receptionist,

Wow. You're right. I didn't know that I am currently unemployed and unable to provide medical insurance for my baby daughter and that she is on county assistance so she can see a doctor and that my last name is different from her daddy's because we are sinners who live together and obviously have SEX without being MARRIED and produce children out of wedlock, children who will no doubt grow up and be financial burdens on your children and maybe mug them in dark alleys too, because obviously children such as mine are no good, NO GOOD from the start, as evidenced by the fact that you cannot type her birthdate correctly and thus cannot find her in the computer. I somehow did not know those things, and neither did all of the people in this waiting room, but they do now. You've been a big help. I feel very recieved.

Dear Dentist Office Receptionist,

You are stupid. You should take lessons from these other bitter old hag receptionists that I know, because, try as you might, your "uninterested and condescending" act just comes off as "braindamaged." Or maybe some previous patient who walked into your lobby was frustrated by your "I just took eleven Xanax" approach to customer service, so they took a brick to your head, permanently altering your ability to write in appointment books and tell me the correct appointment date, and you should just bag groceries for a living.

Dear Special Parking Lot Cart Retriever Guy at Giant,

You are doing a good job, buddy. Keep it up.

Thanks all,
Mo