Tuesday, August 31, 2010

While I Was Out...

I am one crabby bitch. Seriously. I am an asshole about everything lately and I don’t want to do anything. Why do people think it’s okay to harass pregnant women? Like, someone (in Jordan’s family) left a message instructing me to look up some things and print crap off and send it to her the other day. What the eff? Do it yourself. I’m pregnant. Or when the Cougster called up to ask for a ride since she knew we were in town. Call one of your other kids who lives in the same city. I’m pregnant. Oh, can we come over to your house? Find something else to do. I’m pregnant.

Which brings me to the next hot topic. Brad. So Brad and FO called to ask if they could come over to celebrate Jordan’s new job. I have to act like I like them sometimes, so I said okay and we decided to have “Make your own Pizza” night. The only thing that went well that night was the pizza.

So they brought their leg-pissing-on, jumping-on, cat-chasing, floor-shitting-on, Rubi-riling-up, dog to our house. Without asking. It’s like 5 months old but they bring it EVERYWHERE. It goes to Mother’s Day lunch where it jumps on someone and takes a hamburger off of their plate. It goes to the Welcome Back party at an apartment building that does not allow dogs. It even goes to my Baby Shower where it PISSED ON A GUEST and neither Brad nor FO apologized or even acknowledged the fact that their asshole dog pissed on someone right when the party started. And it jumps on shit. It knows how to roll over and shake and crap. Here’s an effing trick, teach her to not jump on pregnant women. I don’t know why they insist on bringing it everywhere, it’s past the cute puppy stage and it uses a kennel, so leave it home. But they need the attention.

I don’t know who’s the bigger asshole, the dog or Brad and FO. When your dog pisses on someone you get embarrassed and apologize up and down to the person. You also don’t ask to hitch a ride with another family member to an event 2 hours away and not tell them that you’re bringing your shedding dog into her just detailed car. You don’t try to blame your dog shitting on someone’s carpet because it ate all the dog who lives there’s food and try to blame it on the dog who lives there. You don’t let your annoying dog chase their cats around the house, especially if one of them is way too old for the stress.

Both the dog and Brad and FO need tons more training. I don’t know if you can teach a dog or a person not to be a self-centered, rude asshole though. Okay, I’m CERTAIN that you cannot undo this behavior since it was pretty damn clear when Brad mentioned that he and FO would be visiting much more frequently when the baby is born. Hold the phone, you think what? Jordan must be slightly brain dead because he didn’t say ANYTHING about how this was not going to happen, so I tried to politely explain that life with a newborn with be much different and I don’t want to have to worry about the house being clean or having to leave the room for 45 minutes to breastfeed and burp and change her and then do it again in 2 hours. AND HE GOT PISSED. Are you reading this shit? He made a HUGE stank about it and was all offended but dropped it 10 minutes later. Until he had had 6 more beers and brought it up again. (Oh yeah, there is NEVER a time when Brad is around that he’s not drinking) Of course, being drunk gave him the confidence to bring it up again. Not only that, he started yelling and mocked the fact that I am so committed to breastfeeding and I was just using it as an exuse. I was in the kitchen with FO and after 5 minutes of his pissing and moaning yelled to J to tell his bother to STFU or he could forget visiting AT ALL. Then Brad got up and told us all to go fuck ourselves and for FO to get their shit because they were leaving. WHO DOES THAT? Who picks a fight with a pregnant chick and pouts about not being able to try to push his way into someone else’s life. Brad does.

That was after Brad let the effing dog off the leash and it ran around and FO came out and screamed obseneties at the dog and her husband…in front of our neighbors.
The good news is that Jordan has agreed that I do not have to see Brad for the rest of my pregnancy nor are they allowed to babysit. I also let J know that Brad and FO are not allowed at our house any longer since drinking, screaming at each other and bringing jumping asshole dog is not appropriate behavior for a couple with an infant. I don’t know if he told Brad this, but I will be glad to let him know myself. After I calmed down a week later, I consider “Make your own Pizza” night a success.

But enough about Brad. J and I have exciting news. Well not “We had the baby FINALLY!” news but, good new nonetheless. I think I mentioned somewhere that J is a contractor but took a part time job since work has been slow and there ain’t no way we will be able to ride the money rollercoaster like we used to sometimes do, with a baby. The part time job is retarded but THANKFULLY he got a call back from a company he’s being trying to get in for a while…where he will be making DOUBLE what he makes at his current job in a full time position. Heck yes. They have some bitchin’ benefits that I’m super excited about. (You know you’re a lame adult when…) J keeps telling me about all the shit we are going to buy and how I don’t have to be a weird money saving fool anymore. Umm, no. My husband is an idiot and just for that comment I’m going to lie to him and make our own laundry detergent since he shot down the idea before. And I’m going to get me some wool dryer balls too.

OMG. Do not want to forget to mention that the anal swabbage I was so freaked out about was not totally not that bad. If I had to, I would do it again. Not that I liked it. I’m not some weirdo who gets turned on by having my anus swabbed, just that I didn’t even know that she had done it and I made a huge deal over nothing. So if the horror of having your bum swabbed was a baby deal breaker for you, I’m here to tell you to just go for it.

Last time we talked I didn’t have Shrek feet either. It’s quite the change from my usual boney looking, crack whore feet and J even had the pills to ask me if I ever had ankles. But he did add that he was glad that my face didn’t look like my feet. Thanks punkin.

Oh yeah, the baby dropped too. And it feels like I had rough sex…except it doesn’t hurt when I pee. This shit sucks, it hurts to toss and turn in bed and getting off of or onto things is a real bitch. It feels like someone punched me in the vagina. Maybe it was the baby. She may or may not be pissed off that I keep trying to speed things up by walking and making us both deal with spicy food. But I will be the first to tell you that she better not piss and moan about my nipples. I don’t care how many blisters the one has from trying to pump my breasts. Yeah, I’m the crazy woman with the breast pump contraption attached to me while watching Grey’s Anatomy trying to make some damn Oxytocin and have some contractions. It was a good episode and I wasn’t paying attention and before you know it it’s been 30 minutes and my nipple has 2 blisters. This is not a good sign. And a word to the wise, nipple ointment and having to wear breast pads BEFORE you have a baby is not a turn on for your husband. I tried to offer up some sex and he declined. Apparently, it’s also not a turn on when you he knows that there is a real, life sized baby in there. I don’t think he realizes that the next time he will get sex is in 60 days IF I deliver on my due date and IF I am cleared for take-off at 6 weeks post partum. I would also like to note that he was subconsciously air humping the side of the bed the other day. I give it a week, pregnant-with-a-life-size-baby-body or not.

Still not sure how things are going to go with the blog. Maybe I won’t be a cranky bitch for the next few weeks and I will post. But I’m worried about what my life will be like when Jillian is FINALLY here. Am I going to have time? Will I feel guilty about taking the time to post and respond to comments? Will laundry get done? We’ll have to see. But you can be certain that I will be here tonight for our Teen Mom chat. Anyone else feel like last week sucked since it wasn’t on?

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Teen Mom Chat

See you 15 minutes to showtime!

Bad News Bears

I am in a total funk right now. I don’t want to do anything. Maybe it’s pregnancy hormones or my subconscious trying to tell me I should enjoy my lazy life now because the shit is about to hit the fan and I am going to be hella busy.

Blogging has been such work lately and I’m sure you’ve noticed. Sometimes I sit in front of Microsoft Word and try to think of something to write about. I have nothing to talk about. I feel like once I have the baby then I can talk about breastfeeding and cloth diapering and being a Momma but until then, my life is so boring. All I can think about is how I should really blog about the useless baby crap website that was sent to me, but I’m just too lazy to do it. I’d rather hang doors.

Oh yeah, someone asked the other day about why the eff we don’t have doors and here’s the short version. We bought a house that was trashed and my handy husband has been tearing down walls and replacing drywall and the whole works for the past two years. Doors and trim are two of the last things and well, no one visits us anyway so we don’t really need those things. We do have doors on the two bathrooms and Jilly’s room but that’s it. I have been totally stressing about the laundry room not being re-drywalled and textured and just the general unfinishedness of the house. I mean, we have a baby coming and we need a bedroom door. And a nice laundry room. I’m pretty sure Jordan is nesting because he’s volunteered to start working on things as opposed to the epic struggle of me offering to help him, him getting mad and shit not getting done. Finally, he realizes that I’m not just being a nagging bitch, I’m being a freaked out pregnant person with a baby on the way who needs a door.

I so feel like I will be letting my BFFs down if I don’t post everyday and I don’t have something even remotely ridonk to talk about but then I realized that if I just came clean you’d get it. Blogging everyday was a HUGE thing to take on and I’ve only started to realize that it’s actually a lot. Maybe too much for a first time blogger about to become a first time mom. I mean I am about to have a lil’ nugget and between breastfeeding and cloth diapering and not knowing shit about babies I’m pretty sure that’s too much pressure and pretty unrealistic.

So, I’m going be posting less frequently in the coming weeks because I’m so lazy right now. (We’re being honest right?) And my Mom finally gets back from Alaska today (!!!!) so I want to bond with her before the baby comes and she goes back to teaching.

But fear not, Teen Mom Chatters. I would not miss Teen Mom chats for the world so no matter what a lazy sad pants Sally I’m being I will be here Tuesday nights without fail.

Oh and p the fudge s. I need to unload some of my inventory so I’m having a 40% off sale at Jillybee on Etsy. All prices will be changed to reflect the sale prices and you should TELL YOUR FRIENDS. That’s almost half off, not quite but almost. It’s just too hard to come to terms with the fact that I am destined to have a bald baby girl and be the lady who sells infant hair accessories.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Baby Shower 3

The baby shower was fun. Except the part where we played games that made me feel like a crap mom. We played some game that was like a crossword without the blanks to fill in. There was a clue and the answer was a part of a baby. For example: Part of an apple. The answer was skin. Or Weatherclock as the clue and the answer was vein. I got 15 out of 39. It was effing hard and I seriously questioned my ability to raise a baby when I can't even think of parts of one.

But it wasn't as hard as the next game, the Nursery Rhyme game. The host asked questions about nursery rhymes and you had to think of the rhyme and then answer the question. Like the question would be “What did Mary have?” and the answer would be lamb. Except they weren’t even nursery rhymes that I have even heard of like Mary Had A Little Lamb. There was some bull about Sunday’s child or some crap and rodents. Then someone pointed out that I was "too young" to know them since that was probably before my time. It was total bull and I’m convinced that the game was selected just to make me look like a dumbass. It probably would have been less embarrassing to play the toilet paper game where they try to guess how fat I am.

Like, who plays those games? I’ve never even heard of those damn games. Where the eff was Baby Bingo and the melted candy bar in a diaper game? Apparently not at my baby shower, apparently they play those games at baby showers where the games organizer doesn’t have beef with the mom-to-be.

Speaking of beef. There was none. THANK GOD. Jordan’s family loves them some hot beef. Every friggen family get together the main course is hot beef sandwiches. It’s not even like Arby’s (which I also hate) it’s shredded beef with no seasoning. None. It is the most tasteless dish I have ever had and yet his family is all over that shit. And I guess you put mayo and cheese on it and viola, dinner. I don’t get it. Then again, when there are forty people to feed hot beef is pretty cost effective. I hosted the fall party and did hot beef but at least I made it BBQ flavored. You should have heard his family, it’s like I was god damn Paula Deen with that shit. All fancy with taste and crap. Do you know people who make hot beef or is this a Podunk Wisconson person thing? Like cocktail weenies. They were there and they were a hit. Nothing oozes class and sophistication like a cocktail weenie doused in some sort of maple syrupy sauce. I know that bite sized weenies have to be a Wisconsin specific food. I can’t really imagine Bethenny Frankel with a plate of them or Amber from Teen Mom for that matter. At least you can say “weenie” all day and not be judged for it.

Mean games and weenies aside, it was a really good time. I have nothing to talk about than the baby since I have no life so it was really convenient to be at a soiree that was about me being fat/pregnant. And when I had had enough talking it was nice to be able to keep stuffing my face full of cupcakes and tuna salad. That’s what I would like to do at most of the get togethers when I have nothing to talk about or try to avoid someone I don’t like but it’s much easier to do when you can play the pregnant card. Try it, you’ll like it.

Saturday, August 14, 2010


Today is my last baby shower with J’s family and I’m so relieved to be wrapping things up and finally be able to buy anything we don’t have yet. I have serious issues about having items on the registry without a checkmark by them. I’ve been getting the shakes.

Even better news? J is nesting and I’m taking advantage of the fact that we can make some mad progress on the house. He’s even been talking about cleaning the carpets and finally putting up doors. If you have doors, you have no idea what luxury you are living in. Sooo, you I will most likely be MIA on Sunday as well.

But if you think of anything you’d like to hear me blog about, tell me. I’ve been in a total slump lately and cannot think of a damn thing to talk about.

See you all Monday!

Friday, August 13, 2010

Pregnancy: Round II?

I don’t know if I can do this shit again. J and I love the idea of tons of kids running around and having our own little gaggle of children following us (me) around. Turns out, you have to get pregnant to do that. Okay, well technically you don’t have to get fat/pregnant again to have more kids but I would much rather be forced into sex a few times and play the pregnancy card the rest of the time than take my chances with not having the fallback pregnant person excuses to save me. But that’s just me, one of the few preggos that can’t get enough not having sex.

The Hubster and I cannot figure out how we’ve made it this far with Jilly. Poor guy. He probably didn’t expect exactly how crazy hormones can make your once sane partner. I know I didn’t think I would be whipping milk at the floor or crying about not getting a Babycook. Then again, he doesn’t have to look at stretch marks or rub ointment on my hemorrhoids (the last one’s was a one night only performance) or hear me bitch about heartburn. Really, it could be worse. Still, I may not get so lucky next time and I don’t know if I’m willing to take my chances with having to deal with morning sickness again. That was the real bitch.

I’m totally okay with just Jilly, I was an only child and I’m not that big of a freak because of it. I’m a little stubborn and opinionated but the jury is still out on where all that comes from. But when your husband comes from a family of five children, he seems to think one nugget is not normal. Like being a total puss because you have sibling issues is normal? It’s a whore a piece. (P.S. – Everyone has it wrong, it’s not a horse, it’s a whore)

J is still banking on finding a pregnancy camp but if that weren’t an option, I think he would still knock me up again and just keep his fingers crossed. I guess I could pop out another nugget. The help around the house would be nice and I think I can figure that I can use the children to acquire more pets.

Are you going to be/stay a threesome? Are you planning on a large family or do you have multiple kidlets? Was being pregnant easier the second or third time around?

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Ugggghhh Pregnancy.

I am so over being pregnant. Neither of us have enough room and I’m starting to understand what “uncomfortable” means in relation to being fat/pregnant. I don’t know why I chuckle at all the shit they say will happen to you physically and emotionally in “What to Expect” because it bites me in the ass a few days or weeks later. Besides that, I’m just too impatient and I have to meet this little person like, now.

They didn’t mention it in “What to Expect” and I was blindsided when I was told yesterday but I’d also love to avoid the strep B test. Nothing about anal swabbage sounds fun at this point. They should just give you the option to bring in a note instead promising that you don’t have it and will pass on being violated. Apparently this is not an option and my only hope is to go into labor before my next appointment on the 25th.

I had a talk with the baby and we’re thinking next Saturday for her grand entrance. Preferably after visiting hours are over but if Jillian’s willing to do me a solid and come early I think I would be okay if she came at like noon or something. I’m flexible like that.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

I Worry. A Lot.

I worry about shit that people wouldn’t even think to worry about. My mind goes a mile a minute and sometime I ask J to just not talk to me for like 30 minutes so I can think (and worry) about shit. I know that’s weird, but whatev. All this worrying does not mix well with being a crazy pregnant person.

Obvs you know I’m totally stressed out about people visiting us in the hospital which ended in a huge fight since fat Brad thinks he’s on the “A list” of visitors. I also may or may not have thrown an entire gallon of milk on the floor because I’m effing crazy and I get so frustrated. In the moment I’m like fucking King Kong or some shit and about to swing from the ceiling fans and afterward when you’re cleaning up all that milk, you’re like “Who am I?”. I wish I was capable of rational thoughts in those moments because I would have much rather thrown a loaf of bread or something. Waaay easier clean up. Then again bread doesn’t quite make the same statement as milk. But anyway.

On my list of today’s worries are whether or not Dr. Potato Head will think when he lifts up my shirt and sees this.

(And it's worse in person)

I’m pretty sure if I act surprised too he will just tell me it’s because I’m pregnant and it will go away when I deliver the baby. I sort of want to try it and not confess that it’s actually sunburn. You know, just to see if he would chalk it up to being fat/pregnant. Because let me tell you, if you’re not pregnant yet don’t even bother asking your doctor about anything you think is weird or unusual because he and the nurses will just tell you that it’s pregnancy related.

Like when I got a rash on my elbow pits, it was “pregnancy related”. It did go away but that’s beside the point. Or a few appointments ago when I tried to explain that it literally felt like there was something coming out of my vagina because there was constantly this pressure on my gina. Well I knew this one was pregnancy related but they didn’t even check anything out to see if I was right. Not that I want them down there or anything, I’m not a perv but it just felt weird and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t trying to escape. Turns out that the baby can be in a “footling” position or some crap and a foot really can stick out from down there. I know because there was an illustration in “What to Expect”. Like, what do I do? Put an effing sock on it so her foot doesn’t get cold?

And because some of you asked I will post the most disgusting pictures of me known to man here since I love you. I do not love the person who posted and tagged me in them for the damn world to see on effing Facebook. Damn Cougster. Up until she forced me to take pictures I have avoided pregnancy photos of myself except for my sneaky FIL.

(Probably not the best idea to stand, in your swimsuit, between the two smallest people there. Don't do what I do.)

Oh and the worst part is that I have been totally walking around thinking I’m this petite little pregnancy person who has gained like 20 lbs and can still fit into her non-preggo clothes with the exception of one pair of pregnancy pants and a top. It didn’t help my inflated ego that people kept telling me how small I was and I do not look 34 weeks pregnant. THEY LIED. After seeing these pictures apparently I was fat before I got pregnant and now I just look fatter. And why the in the hell is my face always the one to gain first? Why didn’t J tell me that my blue shirt is working really hard for me these days? Oh and a little tidbit of advice, do yourself a favor and just buy a new damn swimsuit even if you’re convinced it’s a waste of money for only two times and you look fine in your pre-pregnancy suit. I thought that and turns out, the blue shirt isn’t the only one working hard to stay on. I suppose it’s not the big of an effing deal, I’m pregnant, what did I expect? Oh right, to look like Gisele Bunchen. That deceiving bitch.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I'm A Sunburnt Carcass Waiting to be Picked

Tubing is fun…if you stay in your tube. I did not and this was a terrible idea. I’m effing pregnant and pregnancy brain must have made me forget this shit because I got off my tube and decided that I would swim the group over to the middle of the river. There were 10 people and a tube with a cooler. It didn’t go so well. I was exhausted after a just a few kicks and didn’t even move anything.

Eventually I got us all to the middle but was so tired I couldn’t get back in my damn tube. It was not cute. And it didn’t get any better after a 5 minute break and just holding on for dear life and downing an entire bottle of water like I was about to die. Turns out when you’re like 18 lbs heavier and have a huge belly you aren’t getting on anything. Least of all a super inflated tube in deep waters. I tried to get on from the middle of the tube and managed to get my ass hooked on to the back but never actually in the tube. Thank god that it got shallow and I was able to get me and my belly on to the tube. But during that sad struggle and the multiple attempts to pull myself up I must have wiped the sunscreen off my belly. And it hurts. I’m also a lazy asshole and my arms feel like they were ripped from their sockets since I have no upper body strength but tried to use it. But enough about me, Coug was there. I know, why didn’t I just say that first?

And she brought a man. So she wasn’t going to be ditching us for potential cubs. I’m pretty sure that she was drunk though because she thought that we were naming the baby Lauren instead of Jillian. I mean Lauren is her middle name but WTF? It’s not like we had like 10 names in mind or anything and we’ve been set on Jillian for oh about 25 or so weeks. The Cougster is ridonk. So ridonk that even after we all changed into dry clothes for a bite she decided to sport some Bermuda shorts and an Ed Hardy swim top that was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

Oh and Brad and FO were there. He only pissed me off a few times during the day so things were going pretty well. Until. Until he pointed out that he and FO were hoping to get a call as soon as I have the baby. Ummm, no. That entitled bastard. I reminded him that I am planning on a drug free birth and there are people who will be called before them. Like our parents and people I actually like. I can’t believe he even had the pills to think that he was going to be the first to know. Then FO told the Cougster that she better be able to “hold that baby as soon as she is born”. That’s going to be a big fat negative. Bitch, if anyone gets to hold my kid it’s going to be me…the girl who sacrificed her vagina to bring her into this world.

I will not be pushing out this baby until 1 minute past visiting hours just to avoid the vultures and my idiot husband who thinks he’s going to be hosting a “Touch our new baby with your dirty hands” party minutes after she’s out. I don’t care if she’s going to fall out, I will clench like I have never clenched before . If he weren’t my ride to the hospital in 99% of the scenarios I wouldn’t even tell Jordan so I could get my ginatown situation under control, try to establish breastfeeding and have a minute to take a breath that wasn’t followed by a push.

How did you feel after delivering your baby? Were you up to visitors? Oh and did you poop?

Monday, August 9, 2010

I'm Taking This One.

Today is J's birthday today so I'm taking the day off. We take birthday's very seriously around here so we'll be doing whatever the birthday boy wants.

I'll be back tomorrow and be able to tell you all about our busy weekend and meeting Cougs' new man friend.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Pizza Hut's Secret is OUT

I couldn’t even wait to tell you about this recipe. It’s so bomb that it gets its own damn post.
You are not going to believe this shit. J and I made this Pizza Hut Pan Pizza crust recipe and it was seriously JUST. LIKE. PIZZA. HUT. Here’s proof!

If you checked out the recipe, you’re probably like “Waaaaah? That’s a lot of oil in the bottom of the pan!” but just do it. It’s magic and ya don’t mess with magic. Besides, nothing that good is ever healthy.

J and I each made our own personal pizzas. He’s boring and went the pepperoni and mushroom route while I was a little more daring and tried to copy Papa Murphy’s Gourmet Vegetarian pizza and it was awesome. I just used pre-made alfredo sauce because I’m lazy but if you know how to cook, you could probably make your own.
Oh and just a little tidbit, make sure you buy the full fat mozzarella cheese. I accidentally bought the skim crap and the cheese didn’t do the typical, melty cheese thing like at Pizza Hut.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

How to Tell Your Husband (and Family) You're Pregnant.

As much as I hate Brad and his wife, FO, I have them to thank for my little lady. They threw a New Year’s Party and FO invited Jordan’s ex-girlfriend who I may or may not have bitched out at their wedding. I mean, I would have totally been up for Round II but it really came down to the point that it was really effing rude of them. Furthermore, FO and Brad didn’t see what the big deal was and gave us a hard time about not going and only made me more determined to give them a big FU and not go.

Instead we decided to go down to Wisconsin Dells (Home of Noah’s Ark, holla!). We got tickets to a Comedy and Hypnosis show and booked ourselves the honeymoon suite at what we found out was the cheesiest hotel ever. There was a red, heart shaped tub that we still affectionately call the “Love Tub”.

We had a fucking blast and the show was HILARIOUS and I’m not going to lie, I would totally leave Jillian with one of her approved grandparents and go this year too. Obvs comedy gets me in the mood. So after a perfect night of margaritas, a little adult comedy and a buffet of aphrodisiacs (shrimp and taco dip) we grabbed a cab back to the hotel. You’ve probably put two and two together and figured out that it equals three. Jordan, me and our baby-to-be. And it’s totally true that when you stop thinking about the mechanics behind it and Nike that shit, poof you’re knocked up.

I was obsessed with taking pregnancy tests even before it was possible to detect and finally I was pretty sure that there was a faint second line. J didn’t think so and apparently he’s a master pregnancy test decipherer so he got me a pack of the digitals so I wouldn’t be confused. I used to laugh at their stupid commercials and wonder who the hell can’t read a traditional pregnancy test. Apparently I can’t. I took a test the next day while he was at work and I nearly shit myself when it said “Pregnant”. Even if you’re trying to get knocked up, it still takes you by surprise. Like, Holy Crap we actually did it.

I wanted to tell Jordan in a super special way and decided it would be as cute as kittens to put a single bun in the oven. Get it? Bun in the oven. He didn’t. He came home and I managed to keep my cool and tell him that I was making him something and he should check out what was in the oven. Being the romantic guy he is, he got pissed that it wasn’t Tatertot Casserole or something to actually eat. “You made one bun?” so I had to break the news that I was with child and gave him the pregnancy test. Okay, I tossed it at him because he spoiled my perfect Baby Book story. You’re “I’m pregnant!” story wasn’t just as magical?

No one and I mean not a damn soul knew that J and I decided to pork for more than just fun so everyone was pretty floored when we broke the news. Like my Mom who thought we were kidding and kept talking about random crap like the weather or something. After we convinced her this was not a drill we all went out to dinner to celebrate. Then she bought us baby moccasins since she’s Indian. My Mom isn’t one of those warm and fuzzy Moms so I was pretty impressed by the moccasins.

We waited until my Dad was drunk before we told him that he was going to be a Grandpa. It’s always awkward pretty much telling your Dad you have sex so we thought it best he have a few dozen drinks in him. He was pretty excited, even the next day after a cold shower. And because Jordan is always looking for trouble, this is the shirt he decided to wear the next time he saw my Dad. He’s a classy mofo. It was totally worth the $16.95 for a one time use shirt that took my Dad a half an hour to notice.

Jordan had a really hard time getting a hold of his parents and trying to organize a time to see them in person so after like three weeks he just told them over the phone. Special, huh? Since it was such a shock and we were already living together in sin it took a little getting used to. Like a bitch slap. After a few days it switched from “Woah, that was unexpected” to “We love you more than Brad and FO for finally giving us a grandchild!”

The best reaction EVER though was my Grandma, the one who loves Jordan’s Dad. I told her I was pregnant and she looked back and forth from me to Jordan to my Mom to Space Stepdad with this weird half smile, half STFU look on her face. FOR 5-7 MINUTES. My grandma thinks I have no business making her a Great Grandmother, especially when she’s trying to land a much younger man. It also doesn’t help that she’s the biggest worry wart in the history of worry warts so she cannot be convinced that J and I can pull this parent shit off even though we live “so far away”. 45 minutes for the record. She’s ridonk too.

How did you break the news to the Impregnator? Don’t you think that you’d rather have acid poured on your Brittany than tell your dear old Dad you do the nasty?

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Two Crazy Families Become One

Like I said, our wedding was super uncomfortable and weird. Even with our tiny 40 person guest list of pretty much just our family. Or maybe it was because it was just family. Whatever, we wanted to be married and at the end of the day it happened. Success.

And so begins what is really just a photo tour so you can put a face to a name and keep all the crazies straight.
This is my favorite photo from the whole thing. That’s Naked Grandma trying to figure out who the hell that is up there getting married. That’s Napping Grandma next to her, who really kept it together. Maybe she had a nap before? That’s my other Grandma, the only one who Jordan calls by her real name since she’s 96 and it still all there. Oh and that person mesmerized by her cell phone is my pill dispensing sister. She was probably high on Ritalin.

Oh, here’s a pretty good representation of what a space cadet my Dad is. My Stepmom sent him to get a card for us, his only task for the day, she even bought his damn outfit for him. It was a pretty nice card and I thought “Wow, my Dad really does love me” then I snapped out of it when I read the last part, “Happy Anniversary”. My own father didn’t even read the damn card. Thanks Dad.

This is my Dad’s family. That lady in black on the left side who has the deer in headlights look is my Uncle’s hot 80’s girlfriend and J and i are convinced that she’s actually passed out. She’s got some medical something or other and at every get together, without fail she has some sort of episode and slumps over or her eyes roll back in her head. We all think she’s faking but we don't shun he since we like to see what 80's fad she will represent next.

That person who is not me that is kissing my new husband is my best friend Stube. She and Jordan love each other and anytime she calls he gets all effing giggly like a damn school girl and then they use me to relay their plans to leave their wife/boyfriend so they can run away together. J wanted to just give her my ring but decided against it when he learned she likes princess cuts instead.

Cougster (in the Coral dress) had just gotten back from rehab and she snuck off to have some wine where no one would see her. But here is a much anticipated photo of her. Here’s the Cougster caught with a drink. And the purse/potential diaper bag under her seat that FO and I are battling over. Isn’t it beautiful?
Here is a photo of all the Cougster's cubs and cubette. That big one is the infamour Brad and the girl in front of him is his wife, FO. The little lady is Cubette, the fellow Ginger on the left side is B3 and the man in black on the right is B4.

Here’s our father/daughter dance…in which I grilled my Dad about what they did the night before. You can see my reactions and my Dad, trying (unsuccessfully) for the last time to calm me down and try to convince me it was totally harmless fun. Right.

This is my Mom, the one who planned our whole wedding because my pregnant ass was not up to the task. She spent an entire month and a half planning and the entire day making sure it was the most magical day of my life. This is her “Are you happy?” face. Love my Mom. She’s normal.
Here's my maternal Grandma. She’s pretty normal except she’s a Cougar too. The object of her affection? Jordan’s Dad. She’s been in love with him since she met him at my high school graduation party and asks Jordan how he’s doing every time we see her. This is me trying to talk to her, wanna guess who she’s looking at? Her love muffin.

Here are the love birds having a swinging good time dancing together during “It’s Raining Men”. And there are the women folk appalled by her behavior. You can't see it in the photos but she is wearing a leopard print shirt that was dangerously sexy.

I almost forgot Space Stepdad. Here’s he and my Mom. Looks a little bit off, right? Remember those folders with the dogs with the huge head and little bodies? Our photographer was channeling that guy.

So hopefully you'll be able to keep track of everyone since you've seen their mugs. And so concluded our photo tour. I don't even think you need a comment prompt on this one.

I See Your Crazy and Raise You A Sea Gull Eater

I have a confession. My family is crazy too. You heard a little about my Dad here but for the most part it’s been way more fun talking about J’s family. And they will always seem way more ridonk than mine. But J’s family definitely gets a run for their money once in a while.

Like at Mother’s Day brunch with my Dad’s family and my Grandma called Jordan “The Sperm Donor” in front of everyone. Grandma has dementia but it’s not like Jordan hasn’t been to every single one of our family events since 2006 so I don’t know what her beef with him is. Oh that’s right, maybe she found out that Jordan refers to her as “The Naked One” instead of Grandma S.

Between the two of us we have a ton of family members and I have 4 Grandmas and Great-Grandmothers alone. 3 on my Dad’s side, so he gets them confused a lot. I can’t say that my Great-Grandma E will be there, I say “The One Who Falls Asleep” will be there. See GG E is like 93 years old and is probably effing tired of being dragged to all of our get togethers, so she takes herself a damn nap at most of them. We’re all sitting, chatting and reminiscing and after a few minutes Grandma’s head droops to one side and she is OUT. Hence J’s nickname for her.

My naked grandma has a pretty unique name and I really have to watch who I’m around when I tell Jordan’s who is on the guest list for Christmas. Grandma S lived in Florida for like 10 years and I’m the only fucking person who didn’t know we could never visit her because she was living in a nudist colony. Yeah from about 57 to 67 years old, my Grandma was doing the typical Grandma shit like bingo and perusing the hard candy section like yours, except mine was friggen nakie. This fascinates Jordan and he’s always telling me about how it must have been expensive for her to move back to WI since she had to buy a whole bunch of clothes. Not the conversation anyone wants to have. It didn’t help her case when I found out that she also killed one of her husbands…while my Dad and his brother were downstairs. Is this not the craziest shit you’ve ever heard?! The person who told me instructed me not to tell ANYONE but I’m a nosy effing loudmouth and I can’t help it.

I needed to know more. Obvs my Dad was the person to ask but my source told me not to pry so I totally made up this shit about being on Ancestry.com trying to figure out our family tree and how it helps you try to identify people and shows you articles and photos of passports and crap and the article about my crazy, nakie Grandma putting a cap in someone’s ass came up. My Dad totally bought it and told me everything. He answered all the questions I had like, “How did I not know she was in jail?” but it turns out she pleaded insanity and did minimal time. And the guy she sent to kingdom come was my Uncle’s Dad, the one who was downstairs. You’re family looks pretty normal now, right?

Besides my nakie Grandma I have a pretty weird Step Dad too. He really likes space and black holes and shit. One time after he got drunk on box wine he had a bad dream or something and started like slapping my Mom in his sleep. She tried to wake him up, but he didn’t. At least she got an explanation…”the cosmetic rays” made him do it. I think the cosmic rays made him do it, but I’m not into space and crap, so I don’t know for sure. It really could have been the cosmetic ones.

Space Step Dad lived in Alaska for like 20 years before he met my Mom and he’s never gotten over the need to be outdoorsy and shoot things or whatever so he bought the phone and electric companies in a small town in Alaska so now he has an excuse to live there for 6 months out of the year. He always seems to get into trouble there, like last year when there were those huge fires. Yeah, that was a few miles from his shack. This year though, he ate a seagull.

I guess he took a break from playing the banjo and wanted to take a scenic boat ride on the Yukon with the $1000 dog my Mom bought him, Albert and he saw a primo log that he wanted to use to build my Mom a house. He pulled over to look at it but the ice broke or something and the boat was starting to float away. He was going to get it but he knew $1000 Albie would follow him and then drown. And my Mom and I would be hecka pissed that another dog would have met his demise in his care. So he let the boat go and he and $1000 Albie were stranded with nothing but each other and a chainsaw. My Mom says that around the second day Space Step Dad spotted a wounded sea gull. Poor sea gull. You know that sea gull saw his ravenous eyes and was like “Uh Oh” and tried like hell to get his bum ass moving but wasn’t successful. God rest his soul. So Space Step Dad being the “Survivor” quality man he is, started a fire with a chainsaw spark and cooked that shit up to eat. He says sea gull is not appetizing, even the dog refused it and survived off of rabbit poop instead, so don’t keep your eyes peeled for sea gull or anything. I still can’t look at a sea gull the same way anymore but I bet Space Step Dad can’t either.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Culinary Probation

While I love trying new and delicious looking recipes, am I easily tricked by a artsy photo or a foreign language. Like the Shrimp and Feta Mac and Cheese. That stinky, nasty bastard. It had a bomb ass photo.

J and I had a serious conversation about how I spend too much money (and time) making food that I end up throwing away or let go bad in the fridge because I’m too stubborn to admit that it sucked. He thinks I should just stick to making food that we already know we like. He pointed out that I make a mean ham and I should just make that every week. I don’t even make it, it’s a damn Paula Deen ham that already has a honey glaze, is pre-cooked and sliced. All I do is put in the oven and one time I even fucked that up and it got all hard and shriveled.

I’m still licking my wounds from the blow that the “best thing I make” is a hecka expensive PD creation so I thought about it and I agree. I totally need to stop trying out recipes that are out of my league. So here are the new guidelines we agreed on for my cooking adventures:

1.I am not allowed to make anything with an ingredient that I cannot pronounce or don’t already know where to find in the grocery store.
2.If it has cream cheese, heavy whipping cream or any kind of pasta, it’s a green light.
3.Recipes that require onions, water chestnuts, celery or tomatoes in chopped or whole form are unacceptable. (This rule seems more like a challenge.)
4.Soup cannot be considered a meal. Even if paired with a salad or some other crap that will not fill either of us.

I’m most excited to try my hand at making Chinese food. I love me some Chinese food. Oh and we’re going to have a homemade pizza bar for our dating anniversary since I found this post and it made me shit myself. I want to try crazy pizza combinations and something about a tiny Asian girl who describes herself as a “fat ass” is hilarious to me.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Teen Mom Tonight!

As usual, I'll be here 15 minutes prior to showtime! Oh and just in case I forget, Maci has still not answered my Formspring questions. Sad face x1000.

Free Shit

Okay, I found out about this two days ago and I didn't want to even tell you because I'm an asshole and don't want to ruin my chances because I really want to win some free shit. I can't help it, I'm obsessed.

It's called BLOGMANIA (it has to be in all caps) and for 2 days a whole bunch of blogs giveaway FREE SHIT. This isn't piddly shit either, this is the Free Shit Bigtime. Combined, they will giveaway over $30,000 in prizes. How did I not know about this?! And what the hell, if some of you knew, how did you not tell me?!

BLOGMANIA is on September 15th and 16th and if Jillian decided to come out a few days early I will be so pissed. 'Cause then I'll have to drag my lap top and shit to the hospital because I am not missing this for the world.

Brain Dump and Brad Gets Owned

Pregnancy makes me a cranky bitch. Okay, I was a cranky bitch before but at least now I have an excuse. I’m fat. I can’t see my vagina and I’m constantly disappointed in myself, like last night after I ate 3 Triple Chocolate Chunk muffins and a burrito. In an hour.

Sunshine Ass also makes me cranky. Like yesterday when she fucking FB statused about how she was in the hospital because she was “in labor” but she and her stank eyed husband “convinced baby R to wait at least 3.5 more weeks” until he tried to escape from her body again. Dude, haven’t you read about Braxton Hicks? I mean, I think my insurance should send me a god damn award for not making them process some bull shit claim because I’m an idiot.

On a less pissed off note, J quit coddling his brother and told him what’s what and who’s the effing boss. Me. I guess Brad tried to make some bullshit excuses and be a baby and Jordan told him to “put on his big boy pants” or he wasn’t going to talk to him. It turned me on.

My Hubster was on a power trip after his successful talk with baby Brad because he really gave it to him and even said that if Brad’s shit continues or starts back up again, he wants nothing to do with someone who is going to disrespect us. Us he said. Can you believe this shit? Like all of a sudden he grew a penis and took charge.

It didn’t even end there either. He got home and cleaned the cat box, did laundry, sanded down the changing table, gave Rubi a bath and made muffins. Impressive huh? Oh did I mention HE MISSED HIS FAVORITE TV SHOWS?! You know how much we both love TV right?! He told me that he realized that he was being a crap husband and was going to change.

Besides eating myself sick on muffins, it was the best night in a long time. Until he tried to get a little nooky. Then we did the "You're not getting any" dance for a while and then I went to fake sleep. So I guess it did turn out to be a good night. For me anyway.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Lock Your Doors At Night

Okay, I’m going to let you decide for yourself what happened after you see this picture.

Those are my husband’s boxers as of Sunday Morning.

My first thought was that someone came in to ass rape him; he fought but gave up after the assailant ripped open his underwear and ultimately he was overpowered after which he just lay there and cried. I can’t be sure though, I’m a pretty sound sleeper. Now I’m just going to throw out that this was the morning after Brad called after 9 the night before and was probably really upset and didn’t feel in control and tried to get it back.

Happy Monday!

Sunday, August 1, 2010

How to Handle Other Children When Having a New Baby

Guess what time our phone rang last night? 9:49 PM. I’m not even going to ask you who you think it was because I don’t want to insult your intelligence.

The first ring Jordan knew he was in for it since the night before we had a super sized argument about my concerns about Jordan’s involvement in this “We’re reaching the end of our pregnancy and we still have a butt load of crap to do and figure out frenzy.” And Brad’s involvement in it since there are really three people in this marriage. It was also about the fact that Brad calls Every. Single. Day. And if he doesn’t get an answer, he calls again and again and again. Like Alicia Silverston’s character in “The Crush”.

The fact that Brad is a crazy bitch and has some sort of weird hold on Jordan really concerns me as the mother of his child. Like after we found out that it really only does take one time without a condom and decided to get married sooner than we had planned, like 2 months later. My mom planned our wedding since I was nose deep in the toilet, praying to puke and we had no plans for bachelor or bachelorette parties…. Until Brad insisted that Jordan needed one. Jordan said no at first but they must have had some secret conversation and decided that they should go ahead and do it, with two weeks left to our wedding. Brad was busy that weekend so they scheduled it for, wait for it, the night before the wedding. We fought about this for a effing week since his brother pulled this shit at his own wedding and nothing about his marriage says fairytale. Going out the night before your wedding with a band of men that include your alcoholic brother and my Dad is never a good idea, but my super sensitive husband-to-be assured me that they were going to go out for fish and then to the casino and home by 11 at the latest since Jordan “didn’t want to be too tired or hungover to miss the most important day of his life”.

I spent the night before the wedding trying to fucking figure out an Ipod and put music on it for our reception while Jordan threw them back. We needed some Ipod part that I didn’t even know existed but FO, who was with us, had at her house…where the bachelor party was kicking off. Jordan was already drunk at 5:30 and they hadn’t eaten any damn fish yet. Things did not go well after that. I won’t even make you listen to the horror that was that night but I spent it awake and crying because I was so damn worried and royally POed. When my Mom woke me up at 5 I was not the beaming bride to be she expected to see, but whatever, we started on the long list of shit we had to do. First stop was at the ballroom to meet the florist and my Future Step MIL (not the Coug, the other one). Since my FIL was at the bachelor party and a responsible guy, I asked FSMIL what time he got home. “Oh, sometime around 2:30”. I’ll give you a minute to scroll back up since I bet you’re thinking that it significantly after the time Jordan promised he would be home. Then the water works came. So yes, I spent the night before my wedding and the wedding day crying because I was pretty sure I was making a mistake by marrying someone who would lie to me and stress me out being pregnant with his child and in the sensitive first trimester. Obvs you know I still married the stupid fucker. But our wedding is not a time I look back on with fond memories because the day where the girl is supposed to put on the white dress and be smiling ear to ear all day was stolen from me. By that bastard Brad and his brother’s unwavering desire to do whatever the fuck Brad wants him to do. But back to the phone call.

I answered the phone, not with a “Hello Ass Eyes!” but a “Do you know what time it is?” Apparently he did know since he “meant to call the cell phone”. I threw the phone at Jordan. Okay, so I’m confused because the last time Brad blatantly disregarded our rules he called the cell phone but Jordan told me that he had discussed that calling either phones was inappropriate since it was still after 9. I totally see where the problem is. Jordan doesn’t know how to properly child rear. I hope you’re not laughing over there since I’m not kidding. I wish I was, but I’m not.

Here’s why you have to approach conversations with Brad the same way you would a child:
1. He’s an infant and needs to talk to or see Jordan more than the baby will in a few weeks.
2. He calls Jordan nearly every day and whenever they do talk Jordan either goes outside or leaves the room if I enter it. Weird. Like behavior that a cheater would exhibit. But who am I kidding, this is a love affair if there ever were one. The movie Body Guard was actually based on their relationship.
3. Jordan will do anything to make sure that his brother isn’t mad or had his feelings hurt. Whenever we do something with anyone, we have to invite Brad because Jordan’s scared that Brad will find out about it. I often get the shaft.
4. Jordan is Brad’s marionette. Jordan isn’t usually a disrespectful whale penis but let me just say that I have never been so embarrassed and disrespected IN MY LIFE than when Brad has a hold over my husband. The purpose of the bachelor party story was to illustrate just one of those times.
5. Brad has no life and is jealous that we are having a baby. He feels the need to be part of it. I’m going to have to have the “We’re having a baby and Mommy and Daddy aren’t going to be able to pay as much attention to you because the new baby will need us so you should piss off and get yourself a hobby or something” conversation with him.

Jordan told his brother, who wanted to come see the job he’s working on told him that “There’s not a lot done and nothing for you to see.” I don’t know about you but that doesn’t sound like it’s going to let him know that you are there TO WORK, not socialize and him stopping over is inappropriate. And so, it all becomes crystal clear as to why we have the same fucking problems with Brad over and over again. From now on we’re going to try a new approach. I’m going to hire a gorilla to ass rape Brad and repeat “Do not call after 9 pm, it’s rude and Jordan and Raquel are about to have a baby who also doesn’t want you calling and waking her up”. I’ll let you know how it goes.

If you have brothers or sisters or husbands with siblings, tell me about their relationship. I’m pretty sure Jordan and Brad’s relationship is fucking weird but apparently I don’t know anything about “family” since I’m an only child. (Jordan often refers to he and Brad as family, not in reference to his other siblings or parents, just he and Brad. I guess he forgets that he and I and our baby are family. But whatevs)

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