Yeah, so, I feel like rambling so I hope you can handle it.
I hope Casey Anthony gets cancer. Yeah, I said it. As a breast cancer survivor, I’m allowed to say shit like that, and I’m totally not sorry.
Why does Michael Imperioli act like such a douchebag in those tequila commercials? I really liked him on “The Sopranos” and “Life on Mars.” Those commercials make me want to throw a drink in his face.
Speaking of TV, let me share my current TV roster. Besides SF Giants games, I’m watching “So You Think You Can Dance,” “Wilfred,” “Louie” and “Futurama.” “Breaking Bad” starts next week and I can’t fuckin’ wait! I was watching “Treme” and “Game of Thrones,” both of which just ended. I also watched “The Killing,” but I was annoyed thatthe show fell apart after the first couple of episodes. I hated that it turned into an episode of “24” halfway through the season. “The Muslims totally killed Rosie Larsen.” I kept expecting Jack Bauer to show up. “There’s no time, dammit!” And, like everyone else, the finale really pissed me off. Obviously, I won’t be watching the second season, which is a bummer because the actors are really good in it. Besides, this time next year I’ll probably be watching a lot of “Sesame Street” or something.
I’m recording “Falling Skies,” but it’s just sitting on the DVR, unwatched. I might have to break up with it. “Sorry, ‘Falling Skies.’ It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not that into you.”
Spawn update: Everything is going well. I’m in the third trimester now, the home stretch. Oct. 5 will be here before we know it. I feel pretty good. Sleeping is tough. I can’t get comfortable at night, even with my big pregnancy pillow. I’m super tired by the end of the day, and my feet get really swollen. Of course, it’s a great reason to put my feet up on the couch and read or watch TV, though.
The spawn is kicking me a lot, and he is constantly moving around. When I’m relaxing on the couch or sitting in a meeting at work, the spawn moves around and my entire belly starts moving around. I get embarrassed when it happens at work, so I usually try to hide it with my hands because I don’t want to gross out and horrify people, but I don’t think I’m fooling anyone. It is such a weird feeling. I don’t think I will ever get used to it, but I suspect I will kinda miss it after he is born.
I’ve exchanged a few emails with the completely awesome Marie at Cheaper Than Therapy. She’s knocked up, too. I’ve been thinking the two of us should start a website for snarky pregnant ladies. Baby Center and What to Expect are just too mushy and/or hardcore. Every week from Baby Center I get an email telling me the size of my spawn. “Your baby is the size a kumquat.” A kumquat? I have no idea how big a kumquat is. Now, if I got an email saying, “Your baby is the size of a can of Guinness,” then I would understand. Also, these sites make you feel like if you are not a happy, glowy pregnant lady then you are a selfish asshole, and you will be a horrible mother – the next Casey Anthony.
By the way, most of those happy, glowy pregnant ladies? They’re faking it. You’re welcome.
So anyway, speaking of the spawn, my awesome mother bought us a new rocking chair for the spawn’s room. Apparently, Homer thinks it’s his chair.