Cold Water
Despite repeated warnings, I remain in utter shock at how horrible Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was. Um, OH MY GOD. HORROR OF HORRORS. When the film finally wrapped in the most absurd way imaginable, both Adam and stared at the screen a little dumbfounded, because seriously, that shit was … well, it was beyond the point of ridiculousness and involved some of the worst acting I’ve ever seen, not to mention … ALIENS. MY GOD THERE WERE ALIENS, ARE YOU SERIOUS? And I must know: Has Shia LaBeouf gotten any work since? Did anyone believe him? Anyone? ANYONE?
It was … it was worse than watching Adrien Grenier play Vincent Chase pretending to be an actor, particularly in Smokejumpers. It was soul-suckingly bad, not unlike this last season of Entourage.
Hey, how was your Thanksgiving? Because ours was THE AWESOME. It’s going to take somewhere in the range of an entire army to convince me to ever leave the house on Thanksgiving ever again, because there is nothing better than cooking, eating and laying about like gluttonous little piglets without ever (and I mean ever) getting out of your pajamas. Also, if you were ever considering whether to put cream cheese AND butter AND half and half in your mashed potatoes, a la Pioneer Woman, let me state the obvious and tell you that it is THE BEST IDEA EVER and that you must, you absolutely must do this. Now. Now is good.
Pregnancy has taken a bit of a turn for the worse, as it seems in the last week or so that I have realized that I will not be Perpetually Pregnant, but will, in fact, give birth to an actual person after this and it’s turned up the anxiety to 11, because there is SO MUCH TO DO AND THAT’S LIKE, TOMORROW. However, instead of being anxious about actual baby-related stuff, I’m channeling it into the most useless panics ever, including whether our new tenants will get us sued because their dog bites someone. Never mind that the dog is elderly, can barely make it up the stairs, much less attack, and has large swaths of skin literally falling off of her from old age. No, these facts aside, I am sure she will suddenly morph into ATTACK DOG AND EAT ALL THE CHILDREN IN THE WHOLE STATE OF FLORIDA AND WE WILL DIEEEEE. See also: irrational panic about toxic mold, carbon monoxide and whether pigs have wings.
Things I was not particularly afraid of include shower tiles popping off of the master shower, which will likely result in uh, thousands of dollars in repairs (retiling! shower pan replacement!) and a new shower for brand! new! tenants! Hello, please move into our house! OH WAIT. Thanks for the heads up about the shower tiles! NOW LET US RIP APART YOUR SHOWER BEFORE YOUR CEILING CAVES IN.
Let us all thank God that there is another shower for them to use. And someone, if you would, please hand me a cocktail or perhaps some heroin. OH WAIT.
Oh life. Such a heartless purveyor of cruel, cruel jokes.
By the way, and I feel that I might have mentioned this before, but I’m not drinking any alcohol this pregnancy, not because I’m particularly uptight about those things — though I completely understand why some people are — but because the smell of any and all alcohol induces vomiting. I tried to throw some vodka into a sauce a few weeks ago and … well, it did not go well at all, and reminded me that being pregnant is nothing if not the feeling of being constantly hungover after a hardcore tequila bender.
Speaking of pregnant, I had my boob looked at again today — I have a cysty thing that’s really no big deal, but I have to have it looked at every six months — and when the medical assistant and doctor asked if there were any changes to my breasts since I’d last been there, I could only say, um, everything? Have you SEEN them? WHAT ARE THESE THINGS? WHAT ARE THEY? WHY DO THEY HAVE STRETCH MARKS ON THEM? ALSO I AM NOW WEARING A SIZE BRA DESIGNED FOR WOMEN WHO NEED EXTRA SUPPORT AND IT HAS FOUR HOOKS. IS THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU?
As I was leaving (everything is fine), I made my appointment for six months from now, which is JUNE, which is WHEN I WILL ACTUALLY HAVE A BABY, God willing, knock on wood, etc. And when she asked what time would be convenient, I realized I had to make a time that would be convenient for Adam to come home early from work to watch our three-month-old daughter. I drove home in stunned silence, because again, it’s just not sinking in, folks. And further, I’d be lying if lately I haven’t been thinking that this whole procreation thing was a very, very bad idea and is it too late to back out? Because what were we THINKING? We can’t handle any of this! We are not ready! NOT EVEN A LITTLE.
This thought is quickly buried, usually with the assistance of a swift kick in the cervix, because already, of course, I can’t imagine a second without her. She’s with me all the time, and although I can’t wait to meet her, I can already tell I’m going to miss the time when she’s inside, not out there. Inside, at least, I can protect her with, I don’t know, my womb of steel or something.
But still. It’s all very overwhelming. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. And you know what else? I’m scared.
And finally, because I don’t know anyone who’s seen a decent movie lately (INDIANA JONES I HATE YOU), might I recommend re-watching (or watching, if you haven’t already), The Boondock Saints? Such a beautiful little movie I’d forgotten existed.
And then, also if you haven’t already, watch the accompanying documentary Overnight on the asshole writer/director, Troy Duffy, who presents such an unprecedented level of douchebaggery that it’s creepily enjoyable to witness, and you’ll find yourself screaming, “Are you SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? ARE YOU THAT STUPID, OH MY GOD?”
Because he is! He is that stupid! AND IT IS SO SATISFYING. And it’s also where the Entourage Medellin plotline was directly ripped from, Weinstein brothers and all. Riveting stuff, particularly if you’re a fan of Boondock Saints.
Have a happy Tuesday! I will be gathering estimates for shower pan replacement and retiling! And maybe mold removal! And … oh God. Just stick a fork in my eye, please.
*Reindeer Section
21 comments December 1st, 2008