I love this cornbread so much, I want to take it behind a middle school, and get it pregnant.

You know what I didn't wake up thinking two days ago? Hey, it'd be awesome if everyone's facebook exploded with uterine exegesis?! Yeah, that happened. And it ruined my routine of ass-sitting and Mommy chit-chat all day long.

Do I have to say it? I don't give a flying hunk of marmoset poo that Michelle Duggar is pregnant for the 19th time, and I'm certainly not shocked or surprised. The woman's uterus is a professional fetal support system--why shut down the factory after 20 years of hard labor? bah-dah-ching! High five? Anyone? Bueller?

But seriously, stop. Facebook has been overrun with commentary about a stranger's cooter for the last few days and I need it to end. Maybe it's just me, but unless I'm somehow related to the subject vagina, I don't want to know about what's in it. I also don't want to see pictures of the little alien-shaped embryo. Unless it has a percent chance of coming out looking like me. *muah-kiss-kiss* Close friends count as relatives, so no worries. I want to see your hoo-ha!

So here's to not over-sharing the deets of our reproductive organs to unfamilar faces! In the words of Juno, "I'm guessing it looks probably like a sea monkey right now and we should let it get a little cuter." K, thanks.

Today's subject line quote is Tracy Morgan, "30 Rock" (2006) {Hardball (#1.15)}.

O fair Hermia, thou art so incredibly hot and stuff.

This post is just to inform you all of my adorable husband. I mean, look at him!
Cute, right?

He always wakes me up in the morning to say he's leaving for work at the hairy-asscrack of dawn, and I only seem to appreciate it on the days I wake up before he leaves and get all huffy that he skedaddled without giving me a kiss first.

But apparently the semiconscious hugs I give from my pillow every morning are enough to have me declared "the best wife in the world" to facebook. What a lovely status update to see first thing today! And who said "Romance is dead," besides me earlier this week. What? I forgot that he seems to idolize me on facebook at times. But material presents are a nice touch too. *wink* You know, paying tribute to the goddess that is your wife? Flowers, candies, cards, human sacrifices...Wait, what?

Plus last Saturday we got to go to a wedding for the first time in 3 years and he was uber mushy and giving me the dough eyes...*sigh*...while wearing his formal dress whites.

(The first couple in the picture are Dave and Michelle)

I have "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer playing in my head right now. Oh, and that's the dress I made for my birthday thankyouverymuch. You can't see the bottom of it in that picture so I'll give you another shot to ogle me in. This was from the weekend before last when Liz came to visit and we all went to New Orleans.


Ignore the gigantic, seductive bandaid on my back. That was so my hideous sexy stitches were covered and nobody on Bourban Street would puke on them.

Today's subject line quote is Berke Landers, "Get Over It" (2001).

Factoid three: Her fashion sense screams predator.

As many of you already know, I've been seeing a dermatologist for about a month or so now. I had a suspicious mole on my back biopsied; it came back atypical but noncancerous. Just to be safe, I had the surrounding tissue removed. The margins are clear and I'm super-duper.

Except I went in with a precancerous mole and came out with acne. Dr. D gave me two prescription creams and now my bacteria-face is peeling, the fuck, off. Oh, and not to mention that everything UNDER my skin has decided to get the hell out of dodge and surface. So I have a mountainous pimple on my chin big enough to be declared a city. I'm expecting to see tiny people starting to settle on it and plant a flag any day now.

Colossal blemishes aside, I really just wanted to tell you all about what my dermatologist likes to wear to work. Granted, I've only seen her on Fridays so it could be some "extreme casual Friday" business, but seriously? This is what she had on when I got my last set of stitches out...

She walks in wearing pajama pants. And I'm 90% sure they're not scrubs because they were the thin, well-worn, striped kind with the drawstring front, and a frayed hem. To go with the "I own my own practice and don't care what I wear" getup, she added some slip on shoes that looked like they were from Hot Topic. The kind a scene kid would wear, complete with black, white, and red checkered pattern and a bow on top. And here's the best part! She wore a longsleeved, gray undershirt with a tiny, Barbie pink t-shirt over it that had "Botox" bejeweled on it.

I shit you not. Here, I drew a picture of it. Today's subject line quote is Buffy, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (1997) {Teacher's Pet (#1.4)}.

It's not a crime to be an asshole, but it's very counter-productive.

Things I've done this summer so far:

* Built a corner desk out of shelving material and plastic drawers (total cost: $55)
* Designed a dress for my birthday outing (it's only lacking the hem now)
* Made 2 1/2 purses
* Taught a toddler to stick out his thumbs and say "Aaaayyy" like The Fonz
* Taught the same toddler the alphabet
* Finally decorated my house to near perfection (bedroom is still lacking)
* Won an epic war waged against killer ants invading my house
* Made an extended car trip with a 1 1/2 year old, solo
* Emailed my husband once a day for a month
* Celebrated my 5th wedding anniversary
* Had my cat cremated
* Brainstormed a kickass idea for a teen novel that will never be written
* Had a miniscule mole on my back removed for pretty much no reason at all
* Touched a hissing cockroach at the Insectarium
* Visited the Aquarium
* Perfected my sugar-free chocolate chip cookie recipe
* Had a smoke bomb explode in my hand, turning my fingers hot pink

What have you done?

Today's subject line quote is Ray Embry, "Hancock" (2008).

Bug spray. We should've used bug spray.

Tonight I was talking to my mother on the phone while checking my email (I'm a woman, we're decent multitaskers) when I glimpsed something to my right. As it started to register what it was, and how LARGE it was, I quickly hopped over the baby gate surrounding the desk and proceeded to freak out. That's because what I saw was something like this...



Okay, so it wasn't bigger than a house since it was inside my house. But it did look like it could eat me--or at least win in a bar fight against a drunk biker. He was so huge, he may have actually been Spiderman and just didn't realize.

Now, Gigantospider had perched on the rail of the baby gate and nested itself between the desk and the wall. How does one smash a freakishly enormous spider that's wedged in a relatively tiny spot? That's when the hilarity ensues.

I had limited options.

First, I could just ambush the sucker and hope I smash the crap out him before he has a chance to fling himself at my face. But given his location, I didn't see much room for success. In fact, he'd be likely to hide behind the desk and I'd never get to use the computer again!

Secondly, by slowly pulling the gate forward I might bring him out far enough to...well...smash the crap out of him before he eats my face off and escapes to destroy the greater New Orleans area and lay it's eggs that hatch buick-sized monster babies.

As I'm evaluating my options, my mother is still on the phone giving me motivational tidbits such as, "All your laundry for the trip is in the office. You're going to be driving down the road and have one pop out and crawl up your leg." She was also kind enough to remind me that they could be lurking in my bedsheets or shoes.

Awesome. Now I have visions of spiders the size of my face coming out of the pipes, waving their fangs at me and I will NEVER SLEEP AGAIN.

I opted to arm myself with Dom's shoe and a rolled up newspaper and to stare at it for nearly half an hour, throwing in a good shiver and squeemish girly noise occasionally. But I knew option #2 was my safest bet, so I began pulling the gate out at a rate measured by nanometers per decade.

The splatter of spider guts was epic. It's like I hit it with just the right umph to shoot its legs into the wall and send the body spiraling to the floor. And it still wasn't dead! Because we all know you can pulverize a spider into 14 pieces, scattered across 3 states but it will still twitch if you go to pick it up with a paper towel.

That's why I hit it 9238749237439 more times with the shoe and carried it to the bathroom with a pair of tongs and flushed it. And now it will live in the sewers of Louisiana and send an army of mutant spiderlings up through the toilets of the unexpecting masses.

Today's subject line quote is Paige [after getting stuck on the wall by a spider-demon], "Charmed" (1998).

So, it's like a secret society?

No word from Dominic since his flight landed on Monday. I'm assuming they're not letting anybody on the boat contact family so they can be all secrety and hunt bad guy submarines. Or something boss like that? Because if it's something lame, like Dom forgetting to email me, it's a bit more uncool.

Speaking of which, I went to my Zumba class tonight. Evenings at the MegaGym are ridiculously packed. First off, I had to wait in line to even turn into the parking lot because there were cars waiting in line for someone to leave their spot! There was a line to wait in line...

So the class was super pakced and the only spot for me was, naturally, by the window. Let's forget that I had an exhausting day with le bebe, battled ants for claim to my bathroom, or the fact that my dinner was a PB & J. If you take all of that away and put me by the window on my BEST day in Zumba, I still look like a freaktard. Now I've got everyone walking in from the main entrance stopping to stare at me like I'm a fish in the aquarium. Children even tap on the glass.

But at least I wasn't the girl in pink up front. She likes to boogie, and I don't think she cares who knows it. Unfortunately, she looked a lot like Selma Blair in Cruel Intentions when she was dancing around, singing "secret society, secret society."



Today's subject line quote is Cecile Caldwell, "Cruel Intentions" (1999).

I'm a little concerned that your date has her hand down my pants.

Dom made it safely to Norfolk yesterday afternoon and will setting sail sometime today, I believe. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, things did not get off to a smooth start.

My friend, Christine, watched Michael for us Sunday night so we could go on a date! It was super sweet of her to take on a rambunctious toddler on top of her 3 other boys. Not literally on top--you know what I mean.

Anyway, we went to see Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian. It was cute and about as funny as the first, but overall it felt like the writers got lazy and recycled a lot of the same old jokes. I think sequels often have the same affect as senioritis; they don't really give a crap because everything is secured. People will spend the money to see Piece of Crap: The Sequel because the original was good. Or if it really was sh-crap, the promise of a second movie means it will be better!

So approximately 105 minutes, a bag of buttered up popcorn, and half a king-size Reeses's Peanut Butter Cup later, we weren't exactly jonesing for some dinner. But I'm a caffeine addict and requested somewhere with coffee and we ended up at a local diner.

So approximately 45 minutes, a Belgium waffle, four giant slices of French toast buried in powdered sugar/drenched in syrup, and 2 cups of coffee later...

Michael had been a darling for the sitter! Later Christine told me, "When we were eating dinner, we asked Tyler if we could keep him and he said we could! He said he could sleep on the couch and he would be his big brother." Michael also kept kissing baby Jacob while he was there. Phenomenal news! Because when I hold baby Jacob, Michael tries to slap him.

We decided to reward Michael with a trip to the car wash. Most kids find the automatic car washes funny, so why not give it a go?

Approximately 10 minutes, a terrified toddler, and an over-squeezed set of adult hands later...

He wasn't a fan. He didn't cry, but he had to hold Dom's hand. He also kept looking out the window with bug eyes every time a spinner came by and telling us (calmly) "No. No." We paid $8 to frighten my son. Fantastic.

He fell asleep on the way home but Dom wasn't ready to put him to bed yet because he was going to have to leave the house around 5 a.m. and would miss saying goodbye in the morning. That's when I got to take this picture:



To round out the super-awesome date night, however, I decided to barf up everything I had pigged out on in the past 24 hours. Apparently I got some stomach bug and expelled everything I had in me.

Good news is, I finally broke into the 140's again! Only 17 more pounds to go before I reach my weight loss goal!! Don't worry, I'm planning on losing that through diet and exercise and not by vomiting. But, that's probably only 3 good flu's away from being skinny? But I am wearing this dress right now...



That's Dom and I leaving our wedding reception back in 2004. I fit into that dress again!

Today's subject line quote is Keanu Reeves, "Action" (1999) {Pilot (#1.1)}.