Frustration

My frustration today comes in many forms. I'm not sure where to start with it, or even if I should blog about any of it. I did realize though, that part of my frustration is writer's block. Or maybe no motivation? I keep thinking about it and wanting to write; I have pieces that are half written, and pieces that I've started and just stopped. I felt this wave of emotion and frustration while walking to my car after work and I feel like my brain was moving with words, and I had the urge to write, but it was almost like I didn't know how. It was strange.

I question whether or not this is something I can try to force. I might. I miss it. Especially after a day like today.

Beginning of the Updates

I had my monthly visit today and met the OB/GYN for the first time (I usually see my nurse practitioner or the ultrasound people). She is tons of amazing and I love her and will do something strange like invite her over to dinner or something. So as we're talking, she basically gives me a new due date. I'm due Christmas Eve now, which was actually my original due date. What a great little Christmas present. :-) We heard the fetal heartbeat and it's very strong, so Peanut is chillin in there, growing and continuing to give me gas.

Part of all the early pregnancy shtuff involves blood tests for abnormalities, etc. Luckily so far, I am low risk for everything possible, which is great. The only thing they want to test is ManLosch for the sickle cell trait (just in case). I knew I had it and it came up in my bloodwork, but only the trait (more common in African Americans). Since we're having a little mulatto Oreo, it almost makes it safer, but just to check, the doctors wanted to test him too. ManLosch despises needles but I told him that if I could fill up 9 vials of blood everytime I went, he could fill up one for me. So after the visit, he goes to register to get his blood taken. He says, "So will this test determine if I'm black or not?" I said, "WHAT?!" He said, "You know. Maybe I'm black or something and didn't know it. Wonder if the test results come back and the doctors say 'We have good news and bad news. The bad news is, you have the trait. The good news is, you can play for the Chicago Bulls.'"

Yes. That is my husband. But at least he's doing everything he can to keep me sane. :-)

Otherwise, everything is going well so far. Just hungry all the time. Anyone wanna UltraFeast with me??

Don't Be Nasty

I normally try NOT to blog about work.....but....


Dear Ladies of Our Office,

Please flush once for the bulk and twice for the remainder. And to think, I used to think it was those women at the other company when we shared a restroom before our office move. Now that we don't? I know that it's ya'll. And ya'll are actin' REAL dirty. Let's get it together please. Because with restroom behaviors like this, you can't ever say ANYTHING about men being gross.

Sincerely,
LaLosch

Tales from Diamond Nails

Since bending over is becoming a little more difficult now (that's what she said), I opted to go and get a pedicure today rather than try to paint my toes myself and be completely out of breath by the time I was applying a base coat. There is a nail salon right across the street from my apartment, so that's where I went.

I walked in and they took me right away (good sign). But then 2 of the women who worked there looked at me and laughed a little. I shot them a look and struggled to get in the chair but got up just fine. Just paranoid. The women proceeded to do all the pedi actions and while cleaning up my cuticles, SHE KNICKED ME. I yelped a little and looked down and there was blood. I shot her a look like, "BITCH WTF JUST HAPPENED?!" and she giggled like she was Sailor Moon and said "Oh, I sorry! OMG I SORRY!" Sorry doesn't cut it whore. But apparently you do. Giving me a pedicure without cutting me would have been great.

She gets to the part where she massages my feet, which did feel nice. But then she pulled out some Mr. Miyagi moves on the bottoms of my feet and thought she was fuckin' Muhammad Ali using my legs as punching bags. I again shot her a look and decided that every time she domestically abused me, a little bit of her tip went back into my wallet.

When my toes were done, I decided too that I looked like I was growing a yeti above my eyes, so I got them shaped and waxed. As I got up to go to the room, the same 2 women who laughed before laughed again and this time, mentally deducted the tip instead of shooting the "don't go there" look. The woman who waxed my brows? She got wax IN MY HAIR and ripped a few strands out and didn't seem bothered by it. Not even when I was almost in tears and had my hand in the wax in my hair, trying to reduce the pain. Tip is now almost at $0.

Luckily, she finished quickly and my dog was done at the groomers, so I let my nails air dry. I paid the exact amount and for both those bitches, I left $5, which I felt was being generous after the shit parade they put me through. I'm not sure I'm going back there, but I think I'll be able to find another nail place with no problems, don't you think?

Lord of the Pants

What will I be doing this weekend you ask?

Looking to buy more maternity pants. Because they are the best thing to happen to me. Ever. Well besides ManLosch, the dog (who I now affectionately just call "Animal"), and the little one. Maternity pants are pretty much up there. Way up there. So I decided while eating an italian ice and letting it all drip onto my belly, "Dammit, I'm gonna buy another pair of pants!"

That is all.

What Did You Eat Before Bed??

• ManLosch(while watching tv during breakfast at the hotel): Is that Lady Gaga?
• Me: No, that's not Lady Gaga. Duh.
• ManLosch: Hmm. Isn't she dead?
• Me: WHAT? Whaaaa? Lady Gaga is not dead dummy.
• ManLosch: Oh. Well maybe I just dreamt that she was dead. Ah, oh well.

Vacation!!!!

Vacation starts tomorrow! And it's well deserved. After a trip to the ER Tuesday night/Wednesday morning and just having a rough week overall, I'm very excited to head to

Seattle!!!!

ManLosch and I are leaving LoschDog behind and headed to Seattle for a week. We're going to Vancouver for a few days too. I had to go for work so we decided to just actually take a little vacation around it, before I'm not going to want to go anywhere! LoschDog is in good hands with my friend Joey, even though I get sad when I leave his little pup face. But this was a well earned vaca. Super excited. 

Tanning Fail

My mom called me yesterday at work freaking out. She says, "Okay, I have to tell you this because I figured you'd want to know and I know you're going to tell Marcus (my best friend)." I said, "Okay, what happened?" She says, "So I bought one of those self-tanning sprays because I wanted my skin tone to look even before we left for New Orleans. I followed all of the directions- (and please note, I already started laughing once she told me she bought a self-tanning spray)- and exfoliated. I sprayed it on and let it dry, and went to bed. I woke up and I LOOK LIKE A FREAKIN' ZEBRA!!"

I'm sorry, but I responded with what many others might respond with and said, "Ma, did you forget that you're black? Why the hell were you using a self-tanning spray?" She said, "Well my legs were all pasty and my arms were more brown, so I wanted to look good at the music festival." I said, "If you had just put on some sunblock and let Mother Sun do her business, she would have tanned you just fine." She said, "I know, I know. And it's noticeable. I went to get my nails done and the woman said to me, "Uhhhh Harriet...uhh you got too much sun yea?" My mother said that she told her about the self tanner fiasco and that the little Asian woman looked at her and touched her arm and said, "Uhhhhh no. You no need. Not fa' ya skin color, no." I busted out laughing. I said to her, "Ma, you can go work at Lowes or Home Depot. People can use you as a paint palette when deciding what color brown to paint their walls." She about had enough of me and my jokes. I asked her to send me a picture and she adamantly refused.

I love my mama.

Let's Get Physical...Physical...

As in, ManLosch is now in charge of my exercise regimen. He wants to make sure that I'm exercising for the baby. So I said while laying in his lap today, "I should probably do SOME exercise that doesn't involve trips to the fridge. Help me." Since the word "exercise" is on his top 10, his ears perked up and he said, "Ok, sure!" I said, "No matter what it is, you have to make sure I don't pout and say no. You have to make me do it." He said, "Ok, I can handle that."

After I just finished making soup, banana bread, raspberry sorbet, AND washed all those dishes, ManLosch turns to me and says, "Okay, ready to exercise????" I looked at him like he was crazy. He said, "3 days a week now, you have to walk with me and LoschDog." I laughed out loud and said he was funny. He was not laughing. So I said, "Uh...um...we'll see." He said, "Nope. 3 days a week. 15 minutes and we'll walk slow. Also, ready to do some floor exercises now?" WTF?! So considering I DID tell him that he could trump my whining, I slowly made my way to my yoga mat and did some exercises with him. It wasn't too bad. But I did whine a little while doing them (duh, IT'S ME).

Well I'm being rewarded with dinner now, so I like this. I'll do as many wall squats and pelvic thrusts necessary. BRING ON THE FOOD!!!!!

Know That Feeling?

That feeling where you want to shout to the world? That feeling where you just have so much to say, but can't find the words to say it? That feeling that just sits in the pit of your stomach (and no it's not the kid) and you don't know how to manage it?

That feeling where you just feel.......????????

That's what I'm feeling right now. And I wish I could explain it better. But I hope that my blogging family understands sometimes that no matter how much you love to express yourself, sometimes you don't always know the right way to do it or even how to approach it. Today has been one of those days. Meh.

The Poo Files

I went with a friend to her doctor's appointment today at a hospital. So we're getting ready to leave, had  a good appointment, and I turn to her and say, "Melissa, I REALLY gotta pee. You know....yea. I just gotta go." So we're looking for the restroom and we see one. I place her things down in the waiting area and say, "Be right back!" I hustle off to the restroom and when I push the door open, I think to myself, Damn....did I just walk into the 70's? Anyway, still had to go and didn't have much of a choice but between 2 stalls.

One stall was what I called the "Midget Stall." It really was not made for someone 5 feet and over. I opted out of that one. So I stepped back to use the handicapped stall. I open the door, ready to bust a move; I take a step and right before I took another one, I look down and right on the floor, was a little turd. Yes, that's right. There was a piece of poo on the floor, not even close to the toilet. And it looked like it had been stepped on/rolled over/SOMETHING. So I freaked out. I'm screaming, "Why is there shit on the floor of a HOSPITAL?! OMG!!" Because I really had to go, I just sucked it up and squatted on the midget toilet like I never squatted before.

I rushed out, washed my hands, and ran out screaming to Melissa, mostly in fits of laughter and incredulity. She starts laughing and we just start wondering what possibly happened. When I got to work, I shared this story as well, and here are just a few possible scenarios that have been concocted so far:

1) The person really couldn't wait.
2) Know what a dog looks like when it has a small piece of remaining poo in it's fur that it can't get out?? And finally they are able to drop the deuce somewhere? Yea. Maybe??
3) Someone was changing a baby and while wrapping up the diaper, a piece of the poo fell out and rolled onto the floor.
4) Someone was actually in a wheelchair and had some trouble while on the toilet (which doesn't excuse why said turdlet was not even close to the toilet).
5) It was Mr. Hankey.

Please tell me you all can think of something more reasonable than this, because otherwise....why was there poo on the floor of a hospital (and not even in a private room mind you)? Hilarious...yet disturbing all rolled into one small turd.

It's A Bird...It's A Plane....

Nah, it's just me. But you made it to my post and that alone is commendable. So commendable, that I will reward you with a small nugget of truth about me. I'm pregnant.

Let that seep in for a second.

Ready? Okay. Yes, what I just shared above is completely and utterly true. ManLosch and I are expecting a little Losch. A BabyLosch if you will. But we shall now refer to said child as "KidLosch." You will not see pictures of the inside of my uterus otherwise known as an ultrasound, unless you live here, ask, and I can conveniently show you in person. You will not see pictures of my pee stick(s), as I did not even bother taking pictures and besides, I'm not down with that. What I WILL share throughout the next 6 months will be small tidbits of what this tiny little creature is doing to me.

For instance, KidLosch has prevented me from having enough energy to blog like I truly wanted to. I've been EXHAUSTED beyond belief, so the fact that it's 9pm and I'm still awake is a miracle now. Morning sickness is not even real. IT'S ALL DAY SICKNESS. So a big "fuck you" to the person who coined it "morning" sickness. My pants don't fit anymore and I've been subjected to a Bella Band already plus lots of skirts and dresses. My hormonal emotions created alot of unnecessary tears that have evolved into alot of hormonal rage.

Otherwise, I'm still me. Still ranting and raving about stupid people and funny things I see. Just more hormonal, a bigger belly, and a bigger appetite (UltraFeast anyone?). For the few of you who knew, thanks for being patient with me the last few months and for those who are reading this for the first time, thanks for always reading about my random life. :-) Now bring on the next 6 months!!

Dear Black Jetta

Dear Black Jetta,

It is about 8:30 in the morning and I am driving behind you in the garage. You deem it necessary to text on your phone while creeping at 1mph instead of driving in the garage to look for a parking space. I try to speed up to signal to you that you shouldn't be texting, please get out of my way. Instead, you brake to use both hands to text instead.

Jetta, we are now only on the ramp going up to the 2nd floor. This is ridiculous. You are in my way. Why the fuck are you texting and looking for a parking space? I'm not understanding this logic right now. I just want to park my car and get moving. No....no, you're still texting.

FINALLY. You pulled into a space. After 5 minutes of this bullshit. Thanks.You really couldn't wait to pull into a parking space to text? I hope you dropped your phone down a flight of stairs so it cracked just enough to drive you just as crazy as you drove me this morning.

Sincerely,
Girl in the Black Truck

It Happens When The Sun Is Out

No one stays indoors for anything, which includes restaurants and malls. Let me rephrase: restaurants without any outdoor seating. Last night, ManLosch and I partook in a lovely dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. It was a Friday night. NO ONE WAS THERE. We didn't even have to wait. We were probably in and out in about an hour because we barely had to wait for drinks, appetizers, or dinner (took the cheesecake to go). The hostess said, "Oh yea, since it was nice out today, we haven't seen many people in here."

Today so far, we were just out and about, running some errands downtown before I got my hair done. No one was at the Food Court at the Prudential Center. No one was even getting their hair done at my salon!! WTF?! It was SO quiet, so empty. So weird. But again, today was a gorgeous day so I don't blame people for wanting to be out in the luscious sun, WITH a nice breeze too.

Anywho, I hope you are enjoying your Saturday. Smooches.

Do You Know What Today Is???

"..It's our anniversary.....anniversary"

Hey bitches. It's my 3 year wedding anniversary today with ManLosch (audience applause here). 3 years ago today, I said I do (or I will, or Yes, or some other Catholic form of acknowledgment that meant agreement). The priest who married us asked us to write letters to each other and he would use them as part of his homily; take bits and pieces out of it to talk about us. Instead, he surprised us and read each of our letters aloud and it was obviously a surprise to us both and very touching (audience coos). So today, ManLosch, I want to share with you again (and my blogging family) part of what I promised to you back in 2007.

You’ve taught me so many things about life, love, and happiness. You’ve provided for me in so many ways possible. With all you’ve given me, I feel that I must give you something in return. I’m not a rich woman, but I can tell you this; I will re-pay you. I will re-pay you in unconditional love. I will re-pay you with years and years of laughter. I promise to you a spiritual marriage. I will catch you when you fall. I will understand your strive for perfection and support you every step of the way. I will watch the World Series with you, even when the Yankees aren’t playing. I promise you years of joy. I promise you a family. I promise you me. Your love is all I need and I can’t even begin to explain how happy I am today; how happy I am to finally become your wife.

So ManLosch, I wanted to tell you that I'm still in the process of re-paying you, but perhaps with some amendments.
I will re-pay you in unconditional love (Yes, as long as you continue to keep doing my laundry and clean up after me.)
I will re-pay you with years and years of laughter (I think this is a no-brainer. CMON. I'M HILARIOUS. And hot.)
I promise to you a spiritual marriage (When I get up to attend Mass? Yes, of course. But will I stop talking about people AT Mass?? No, sorry. I haven't reached that state of enlightenment yet.)
I will understand your strive for perfection and support you every step of the way (Except when it involves finding the perfect parking spot when I've been hungry for the last 3 hours.)
I will watch the World Series with you, even when the Yankees aren’t playing (Hmmm. Let's be honest. Okay, how about if the Chicago White Sox are in the World Series? Or for some reason the Detroit Tigers pull it together and surprise everyone and end up there? I'll support that.)
I promise you years of joy (Especially when I get pay raises and we get awesome tax refunds.)
I promise you a family (Slow your roll. It's gonna happen. ;-). LoschDog has been an excellent placeholder.)

So see? Not much has changed! Although I still can't understand your incessant argument for why it's ok to keep the vuvuzelas at the World Cup, I'll still watch it with you (with the sound on MUTE). Although you can't understand why I won't pick up my dirty laundry or DO IT, I'll still watch you do my laundry. And although I'm afraid of what a Siberian Husky would shed all over my wardrobe, I'd still get one because you want one. In other words, what I'm saying is......you're alright ManLosch. Let's keep doin' the damn thang and see where it gets us.


 Happy Anniversary Chulo.

An American Mexican

Random conversations that take place right before we fall asleep...

• Me: Remember that movie, "The Land Before Time?" There were so many of them.
• ManLosch: Yea, there were like 8 of them or something.
• Me: 8?! So by the 8th one, isn't it not the land before time anymore? Isn't it "The Land After We've All Been Alive For A Few Years?"
• ManLosch: HA! Yea, but they were trying to uh, find appropriate land or something. And it took them 8 movies to do it.
• Me: Okay, there weren't really like 8 of them were there? Wasn't it like 3 or 4? And the rest just went straight to VHS?
• ManLosch:Probably.
• Me: Remember "Feeval or uh, Fieval goes West?" Or what was that movie with the sad sap mouse?
• ManLosch: "An American Tail!" ::starts to sing:: Sooooooomewheeeeere....out, theeeeeere....
• Me: Okay, we're done. Stop.
• ManLosch: What? I'm just saying. Good stuff.
• Me: Didn't he have a family? What was his last name? Did he have one? Fieval...???
• ManLosch: Gonzalez.
• Me: WHAT?! Um, that was SPEEDY Gonzalez. Wrong mouse.
• ManLosch: No. It was Fieval Gonzalez. He was a Jewish Mexican mouse. ::sings again:: Sooooomewhere.....ANDALE!!!...ouuut, theeereee...
• Me: OMG.

I Got Soul

This commercial alone makes me want a Kia Soul, even though I think the cars are actually not cute.

New Follower!

Hi, I have a new follower! Everyone say hi to Sabrina. :)

And yes, I will catch you up on my life. I suck at blogging these days. I hope you still love me.

How To Sleep In An Airport

Any suggestions on how to close my eyes without getting my shit stolen?

1) Close one eye and keep one eye open?
2) Politely ask a stranger if I can lay in their lap?
3) Make a bed on the floor in the corner with all the stuff I packed and set my alarm?
4) Ask why the flight was delayed and demand a room at the airport Hyatt until the flight leaves, with transportation to and from the terminal?
5) Fart until enough people around me move so I can have the entire area to myself?
6) Close both eyes and just fuckin sleep and pray that my shit doesn't get stolen?

Maximum Boob

So I was going to use this post to talk about how my dog seems to be racist, but instead I have to vent.

So I just so happened to be checking out some friend's photos on Facebook. They were some photos of a wedding that has happened in the last few months or so. I dunno. It actually doesn't matter. Either way, ladies. LADIES. If you normally wear a size 10 and God has blessed you with some boobies, PLEASE do not try to stuff those boobies into a XS dress. This is exactly why I can't find my fuckin' size in any stores. Because of 39FFF boobie women like you. It's not even cute cleavage. It's like "Hey I want to show off my boobs and the best way to do that is by wearing this dress I found in my closet from 8th grade and letting my nips sit right at the edge of the dress, allowing maximum boob."

NO. Not ok. I have some coupons for the Gap if you like. Let's go shopping. And please put down the XS. No one ever said it was easy being skinny (being naturally skinny when you don't want to be). But at least leave my size so I CAN buy a new dress. Thanks.