A Perfect Opportunity...Missed

So I went and met my girlfriend yesterday for drinks (lemonade - we're both preggers) at City Place in West Palm Beach. The attendant in the lot didn't have anything other than ones and I didn't have anything smaller than a twenty. It was a two dollar charge, so she shelled out eighteen singles and I was on my way.

I wanted to surprise My Guy for lunch today so I stopped at Mickey D's for burgers to go. I pulled up to the payment window after placing the order and it was around eleven bucks and change so I whipped out my fat bankroll and counted off twelve singles.

What she said: "Oh, ha ha, are you a waitress?"

What I didn't say: "No, a stripper."

Dammit.

I Probably Wouldn't Put This Profession On The Short List

So, if you're a germophobe, living in the Big Apple, what would you say would be one of the least favourable jobs you'd want to undertake? I think right there on the list with:

Collections - Recycling, Sanitation Department

Inspections - Food Services, Vermin Department

Registered Nurse - Bellevue Mental Institution, Fecal Obsession Ward

Teacher - Tots and Toddlers Daycare, Bring Them Even If They're Snotty

Pipe Maintenance - Waste Management, Sewage Department

would be

Driver - New York City Yellow Cab, Manhattan Proper.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked at our driver through the sneeze-guard like, Lucite half-barrier. He was holding the steering wheel, one-handed, always one-handed, with a what looked like 4-hour-old fast food napkin. I say approximately 4 hours because it was damp, wrinkled and slightly torn in the most contacted part of the paper. How could I see that if he had it firmly clamped between his skin and the worn leather skin of the wheel? Every time he signaled or put it in neutral with the shifter, he'd lift the napkin delicately, but speedily, and place it on the needed apparatus. And the guy signaled every single time he engaged in a dangerous move, sneaking in front of other angry impatient cabbies and clueless losers who shouldn't be allowed to drive in the city.

It was as if I was watching a San Francisco street performer juggling handkerchiefs at mach speed.

Upon further inspection, I realized the dude was sitting on the requisite wooden beaded car seat with a sheet of plastic between his pants and the offending (oak? ash? whatever) cover. First thought: slippery. Second thought: sweaty!

And to top it all off, I peeked around the corner and saw that his back was being supported with a tatty pillow...covered in a plastic Whole Foods bag.

Now, honestly. If you have an obviously major problem with germs, would you have said yes to this job? A job where hacking, coughing people from all walks of life, drug addicts, whores, teens with over active hormones, degenerates, babies, people who like to lick things, etc. hang out in your extremely confined space all day long and hand you dollar bills which may or may not be diseased all on their very own? I say no. No!

In addition, if you look very carefully, he has one of those knotted string bracelets on. It is old and frayed and I'm willing to bet, if it was tested, probably had more germs on it than a toilet seat in Grand Central Station.

Almost at 20 Weeks - More Tummy

Mind - this is a few weeks old...I'm a bit bigger now.

Still waiting for the first movement. I can't bring myself to use the word "quickening" - it freaks me out. Kinda sounds like the title to a horror flick. But all my pregger buddies have felt kicks and squirms - even their husbands have!

Jealous!

Mmmmkay - I was feeling like a fraud, so I took another picture a minute ago and here is the new me (or should I say us?).

It's Obvious I'm Obsessed

...or maybe it's just because I am spending so much time in the can lately (pregnancy peeing is like the never-ending story).

I just had to share these with you - and no I was not perverted enough to do this while someone was in there with me.

Click on this image to get a bigger, better idea.

Okay, so you can see your own under parts...big deal right? Not if there is someone next to you!

Or if there happens to be someone waiting for the next available stall.



Am I right or am I right?!!

ps (I wonder if Larry Craig could have benefited from this particular bathroom design...?)

pps (which leads me another question: If a gay man is looking at his mirror image in this flooring, would his doppelganger be straight?)

Can I Ask A Question?

Should shiny, shiny, mirror-reflective black tile be allowed on the floor of a public bathroom? I'm working out of My Guy's office in Manhattan, and the Ladies here (and assume the Gents too) has this very inappropriate flooring material that basically says "Hi! I'm sitting next to you, also looking at the floor looking at you, looking at me and wondering, can you really see me as well as I can see you? And wow, don't you use a lot of toilet paper? Kind of resembles a bee-hive doesn't it. Three wipes? Wow, now four - kind of OCD there, eh? No, I don't really want to look, but I need to make sure that you're not really looking at me, and trust me sister, I am not making a move in here until you are gone and can no longer look up my skirt, nostrils or vagina."

Thanks, that is all.

The Niblet Has Been Profiled

17 weeks - and still stubborn. Wouldn't get into the right position for the ultrasound tech. She told me to get dressed, hit the can, and jump around a bit to get him/her to change position. Here's what we got...we didn't even need to be careful about looking in the WhatGenderAreYou region. Legs were tightly crossed barring any viewing. Modest little bugger...

My Laptop Blew Up

So yeah - I got a fatal error on my laptop so it has to go to the hospital. I'm being bad and taking time out of work to post. Don't tell anyone.

I got pulled over for speeding yesterday and I'm pretty sure the baby and I are going to Hell.

We we're rushing back (aka driving as I normally do) from the conference in Orlando because I wanted to get home, see My Guy and eat a steak.

E sees the Copper before I do and tells me I better slow down.

Too late.

He whipped a bitch, clicked on the cherries and took off after me. I stop, knowing I'm caught (only after a second of contemplation...maybe I could get off at the next exit and lose him with some crafty moves? But then a vision of COPS went through my head. Working for me: I was in Florida. Not working for me: I was wearing a shirt and I certainly wasn't drunk, so the equation didn't fly.)

After E asked me to roll all the windows down (we were in my brother's car which has illegally tinted windows), I did what I thought I would never do.

I pulled the pregnant card.

Big Brim and Aviators: "Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?"

Me: "Yes Officer, I'm sorry, I know I was speeding...but I'm pregnant and I really need to pee! I know it's not an excuse to speed, but..."

Big Brim and Aviators: "License and registration."

(Fuck)

He went back to the disco car and proceeded to look me up - and then he was writing something.

(Fuckfuck)

E: "Don't worry, I'm sending over Warning Karma."

Me: "Forget it - I'm getting a ticket - I was doing 88 in a 70."

E: "Trust me. It'll be a warning."

BB&A sauntered back to the car with ticket in hand.

Big Brim and Aviators: "How many months are you?"

Me: "4 months."

Unbelievably, BB&A sticks his big brim and aviators into E's window to get a better look at my stomach! I immediately push it out as I see him start the dive.

E: "She just tiny."

(I love that girl.)

Big Brim and Aviators: "Well, I'm giving you a warning..."

Me: !!!!!

Big Brim and Aviators: "...but I need you to slow down."

Me: "Yes, Officer. Of course."

Just for show I got off at the next exit to fake a pee stop.

I didn't really need to go.

Maybe my version of Hell will be needing to constantly pee while being endlessly pulled over my the Devil in a Big Brim with Aviators:

Oh, And...

For those of you who care: if anyone is in town, or would like to plan a vacation to sunny Florida in the dogged heat of June, please let me know - I'd love to meet and have you come to my Baby Shower, currently planned for Saturday the 21st. Just taking the temperature here...official invites will be going out through my fabulous sister in law, Elizabeth.

I welcome one blogger and all. Though I won't be drinking, there will be plenty of it! Just sayin'. (Whiskey, bring your shockingly pink anti-kryptonite concoction.)

...or we can have something like zees!

Nice Beer Gut

Alright, I'm ready to expose myself. The belly has popped and I have to admit - I'm kind of reveling in it. It's so great to be fat and have an excuse.

Here we go...



For those of you who knew me as Skinny Minnie, Slim, Pixie Stix and/or Hey Is That Girl Anorexic?, eat cake!!!

I'm now Poochie Mama, Bubble Belly, Gutsy and/or Hey Does That Girl Have Major Gas?, and I'm loving it!

Why Didn't Anyone Warn Me?

No one said being knocked up might come with a giant side of massive heartburn. Umm, how do I make this go away? I'm afraid to eat. Even bland, white food makes me sear with tubal throat pain. I may have to sleep sitting up ala the Elephant Man.

Is this a phase? Please say yes.

I Love Me Some cK

Email string, today at work

cK: Did I tell you I went to a rodeo last weekend? And that tonight I'm going to a martini luge?

Me: A martini luge?! How awesome! Pictures?

cK: I hope to get 'em! I'd never even heard of this thing. Apparently they have a luge course-like ice sculpture down which they pour your mixed martini to chill it. You catch it in your glass. I fully expect this evening to be drunk on $20 and in just 20 minutes.

Me: I'm only slightly disappointed...I thought you were going to slide on a martini filled luge...

cK: Hey, after a couple of those things, you just don't know where I'll end up....

SORRY - I Feel Like A Heel (But A Smooth One!)

I've been a total fart about updating the blog lately. I'm lazy. Well, not really. I've been traveling and trying to get my increasingly fat ass/stomach into the gym at night and then I'm just too exhausted to do anything else but sloth on the couch in a state of half-alert comaness. And ask My Guy to bring me things.

Speaking of My Guy...it was his birthday yesterday. I wanted him (after taking a peek at his hobbit feet) to feel the glory of a pedicure, so that was part of his present last night. "Alright," he said to my brother, "apparently, your sister wanted to make me gay for my birthday!"

Here's the good news. He wants to write about the experience and guest blog on The Follies! I'm going to nag him all night until it is written. Soon to be posted.

I Went On A Date The Other Night...

...with my brothers and 18 of their closest over 35 hockey team buddies! Sasha is one year older and Lexi is three years younger. Here's the poo on the sibs. Sash has been mistaken for Tom Cruise (in his non-crazy younger days) and Lex looks like a better, gentler not so conceited or steroided version of Fabio (at least he used to when his hair was long). This has nothing to do with my post, but I wanted you all to have a visual.

I knew this was going to be an interesting night when we loaded a chock full beer cooler into the car and no one, I repeat no one - besides me - including the cop who was driving dug into the consuming on the Turnpike. I wanted out of the car for a hot moment (umm, precious cargo, hello?) when I realized what was going down, but then for some reason I intuitively understood that this was par for the course and not particularly out of the ordinary. Would the cop get out of it if pulled over? Is this how things work in the brotherhood? I didn't know, but we got there safely.

Only after commenting about the "homeless" fat guy on the entrance to the Turnpike.
Tom the Cop: "Yep, that dude must be starving to death."

And laughing at the 6 people staring at their golf cart that had tipped into the canal.

We were only two minutes into the trip and I felt like I was a fly on the wall in a men's locker room. They seriously forgot I was there, until Bob berated Lexi for belching and possibly offending my sensibilities...until I answered him with a huge self induced burp of my own.

Anyway, we pulled into the VIP parking lot and I had to wait until all 5 of them had peed in the bushes before we could go in.

We arrived the Oilers/Panthers hockey game. When we lived in Edmonton, we were all die hard Oilers/Gretzky fans in the 80s, so there was no question as to where our loyalties lay. A friend of ours is with Budweiser, so we hung out and ate and drank in the Bud Suite and the four of us (3 + 1 neighbour Joey) were granted the 1st row seats, kissing the glass right next to the goalie!! Holy crap, were these awesome seats. I have never been so close to sweating, grunting, gargantuan men, intent on crushing the living snot out of each other while literally performing ballet moves on ice (with an added puck-seeking appendage).

15 seconds into the game, a Panther got smeared on the boards right in front of us. It was awesome. Not so awesome was the goal he scored not 45 seconds later. The long and short of it is that this was THE most exciting game Ive ever seen - on TV or in person. The Oilers were down 2 goals with just over two minutes to go and they tied it up. Lex jumped up at every opportunity and waved his Canadian flag all over the place. Joe was so excited that he was going to be able to see something he'd never seen before - a shootout - that he nearly knocked over the glass when the time ran out. We laughed and laughed until one of us was able to squeak out that we still had to get through 5 minutes of overtime before a shootout could happen. Poor guy was crushed, but that soon dissipated when it was still tied at the close of the 5.

Shootout commenced. Edmonton got two by the third round and it was all over but the glass banging! I have never had such a good time with my boys. It was great.

And, despite crawling up the ass of a State Trooper, we didn't get pulled over on the way home either!

12 Week Ultrasound

This is a better picture of the niblet - taken on Wednesday:



His/her hand is on the forehead as if to say, "Umm could you get out of here? I have a headache...sheesh."

The Cat is Now Sprawling Out of the Bag

Okay, so it's the 23rd, and I'm done waiting. Some of you may have already read this elsewhere, but here goes y'all:

I'm PREGNANT!



Holy Kegel it feels good to get that out. I feel like I've been pretty lame with the posts for the last three months and it's mainly because I've been:
a) obsessed with everything baby - from making to keeping, to learning and observing - feeling like everything else kind of came in a lame second
and
2) wanting to post about it, but needing to keep it on the down low
as well as
c) be too frigging tired to post anything at all.

No morning sickness at all, no cravings, no food aversions. If I didn't have these boobs and this little pooch, I wouldn't even know I was pregnant. Umm, that's a total lie. I'm also tired, starving all the time, enjoying water (WTF? I know!!), peeing in the middle of the night and farting up a storm.

Mom, baby (aka niblet) and I spent half an hour together today with the ultrasound tech - apparently the little one has inherited both parents' stubborn genes (Go Irish!) and was determined not to get into the desired position for measurements.

We're tossing names around right now (we're looking into both as we're not going to find out before he/she is born)...any suggestions?

You Can Never Be Too Rich or Too Thin

Well folks, I'm here to tell you that you can - on both counts.

I went to the opening night of the Joffery Ballet last night. In Palm Beach - well West Palm Beach really, but the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous crossed the dreaded Intracoastal and slummed for the night on the other side of the tracks. Let me just say, there is nothing slummy about the Kravis Center - it is a stunning theatre.

Anyway.

So My Guy and I went to Ruth's Chris across the way and had a lovely, albeit slightly rushed meal (we thought the ballet started at 8, and when on a whim, we looked at the tickets and realized that it started at 7!). Petite Filet and the Bone in Ribeye! Stat! While we were sitting there, we started to notice several of the other patrons were quite well to do. We were surrounded by finely clad women, men in tuxes, and both were dripping with jewels. Outside, arm candies in fur (yes, even in the Florida heat) walked cozily with overly tanned, much older men. Bentleys, Jags and Porches abounded at the valet. Yep, this was High Palm Beach Society.

And the riper ladies, oh, the I Will Never Admit My Age Ladies. I've never seen so much young hair sitting on top of so many old women. Earring were perched in front of earlobes where multiple surgery scars were playing Hide and Please Don't Seek. Women who had to look down their noses because to lower the chin would be an invitation to expose sagging neck skin. We saw a socialite whose eyebrows had been lifted so many times she seriously looked like a scary clown. Why do these people want to constantly look surprised? I don't get it. And what the lady next to us didn't get was an ass. You know the back profile I'm talking about...affectionately referred to a Avalanche Ass - the one where the shoulder blades are the farthest protruding protuberance of the dorsal side of Homo Erectus Femalius. Palm Beach! Listen Up! We don't like that look! Eat a flippin' burger! Get some meat on your toucus, badonkadonk is in. Trust.

Why. Why?

Why is it that on the day I ask, and get permission, to go from 40 hours a week to 30 does one of our websites blowup and make me stay longer than I should be? Why?

Not Exactly As Planned

I wouldn't call it a bust, but the "day of love" took a hard left somewhere in the middle of the exhibit...or was it at the restaurant? Or the second restaurant? Or the did it do it because of the weather.

The turn in the romantic action happened in the third section of the Bodies exhibit. We were happily listening to the soothing voice of the audio tour when suddenly, between the respiratory showcase (lungs, hearts, alveoli, etc.) and the reproductive room (embryos, fetuses, breast tissue and uterine tumors of every size and shape - including one the size of a basketball that, yes, when invited to peek inside, involved teeth, hair and the beginnings of an eyeball!!), I started to feel a bit woozy. Did I not have enough to eat for breakfast, or was it just threatening to come back up? A black shroud encompassed my peripheral vision and I knew that I was about to do a face plant into the aorta display. Luckily, we were just passing the only bench in the entire joint, so I sat, took a few deep breaths and pulled out my emergency bag of trail mix. This always happens to me in museums! The last time was three years ago in Manhattan at the fashion exhibit of the maven who wore the big round black glasses and paired weirdly fabulous things together - oh crap, hr name is escaping me right now... anyway - I nearly hit the dirt there too. I think it's the dark rooms, the standing in one place for a while, the locked knees. I need to order a wheelchair the next time I plan to visit any sort of art display.

So, we got through that okay, after a brief rest. ps - the human body, when sliced into 100 separate pieces, really does resemble a ham steak. Just so you know.

We were done sooner than I thought we would be, so we headed to Blue Moon a little earlier than expected. At 12:15 our 1:45 reservation just could not be handled in any way shape or form until after the 1:30 people had been seated, so we'd have to come back. I just caught Ray in time before the valet dude stole away with the Mini, so we jumped back in a debated over what to do. Find a Barnes and Noble, read and hit the coffebar for a hot minute ? Couldn't find one nearby. Go for a drink at another waterside bar (couldn't find one either). Say screw it, head back in the direction of home and hit Oceans 234 for lunch? After I pouted briefly, I said ok.

We got a little turned around (read: lost) and finally found the place. We were seated immediately (relief) right next to the waiter station (hell no). The hostess hemmed and hawed about timing and waitresses and just could not understand that I didn't want to sit near the station and could she find another table (there were several around). She was dense. I eventually forewent my usual politeness, looked her dead in the eye and said "I don't want to sit here." She led us to a delightful table for two near the edge of the restaurant, a table that still had a really nice view, a said that we'd need to wait a bit for a server because she just sat two big tables in her section. Happily, she showed up immediately and we had a nice meal. Anniversary crisis averted.

Next crisis to avert was the weather. We made it through the meal no problem, but right before I mentioned going to the Morikami Gardens, a deluge dumped down on us like it was about to rain for 40 days ad 40 nights. I kept my mouth shut to avoid anymore disappointment and headed home.

So here we are, home in the middle of the day of love, me, downstairs on the green couch, fighting to stay awake to watch the gore and suspense of Seven, Ray, upstairs killing zombies on his new PS3.

Not exactly as I planned, but Happy Anniversary honey!

Holy Crap, Where Did The Time Go?

Tomorrow is our 2 year anniversary. I can't really believe that we've been hitched for that amount of time, but then, it feels like we've been together forever and it's just perfect that way. I've always guffawed at the concept of having a soulmate, it's like the ultimate sappy sentence..."He's my soulmate." Bleah. But I heard it again today on NPR when a muslim woman was talking about her husband on This American Life and I thought to myself, Dammit, Ray is my soulmate.

Because of circumstances beyond my control, our weekend of celebrating was kiboshed - today was kind of a crap, nothing day, so I hopped on the old laptop, made some inquiries and we are having a full day of fun in Ft Lauderdale tomorrow. First we head out bright and early (after I fix him breakfast in bed - very wifey, I know) to the Bodies exhibit - something we've been wanting to do for a while now. I just learned that the exhibit is of real, preserved bodies, not plastic replicas, so it should be a wonderful wind up to the all you can eat brunch at the Blue Moon Fish Company on the water at 1:45. Rare prime rib anyone? Then I thought if we had enough energy, we could hit The Morikami Gardens and check out the bonzai trees in the daylight (last time we were there was in the dead (no pun intended) of night when we were doing the lantern lighting for the Festival of the Dead. I'll cook something gorgeous for dinner (saucy and porky). I think that sounds like a lovely day. N'est pas?

Photo Log Catch Up

So I had a pantload of pictures in my old camera and quite another even larger pantload in my new non-ghetto no elastic holding the battery port shut camera.

Pictures and captions from the last few months:

T-shirt I painted for Hulles (I'm only linking you Hulles in the hope that you have updated your blog you busy man you).

Stockings and donuts in bed on Christmas morning - what could be better than that? Maybe a shot of Happy Birthday Jesus rum in a cup of coffee?

The very first picture taken with my new camera - Portrait of the Vampire Pedicure (not only is the red nearly black, but this hot-damn pedi is everlasting - I've had this for almost a month and it still looks fresh, no?! I wonder if the OPI colour I picked was called "The Undead"). Note the ghetto camera with the blue elastic band...

Think of me y'all on Wednesday night, Jan 16th - I'll be getting a dose of culture courtesy of My Guy and the Joffery Ballet.

(Just a quick aside...have any of you watched Rome? We just got through season one and are salivating for more. The last two episodes were mind blowing. Must See TV!! Yes, NBC, I am stealing your tagline - HBO rules!)

The Christmas dinner table before it was released to the hounds. Seriously, we demolished it. It had none of its former perkiness after the clan was done with it.

My fairly drunky Daddy. Look carefully at his left shirt string...somehow he managed to unknowingly dip it in his Cabernet. He's so cute.

My even cuter guy - I just love him when he's scruffy. Hmm, I just had a thought...do you think that's a Daddy thing? Eww.

This was the joint where we spent New Year's Eve in Tarrytown New York. The Castle on the Hudson was lovely - maybe a little bit old (PJ and Ray walked in to the place, checked out the clientele and said in unison, "Who died?"). But a good time was had by all - especially these two:

They started mackin' out right in front of our table at the drop of the ball, continued through the horns, streamers, kissing and shaking of hands, kept 'er going during Dick Clark's farewell and didn't come up for air until our band started, played through and finished "When the Saint's Come Marchin' In." The room was revolted. Particularly when he squeezed her ample ass for the last chorus.

Ugh.

I blew a kiss to the camera at just after midnight (and after kissing my husband).

And this was me at the stroke of 12:20, back at PJ and Barbara's in my J's ready for bed. I loved that they live around the corner!

Happy New Year!