Well, it had to happen sometime.

I finally broke down and got cable.
TV, that is.
So now, for the first time in over three years, I've been watching the tube.
Discovered Mythbusters...LOVE that show.
Watched a whole bunch of stuff on Star Trek on the History Channel.
Other than that, it seems that most programming available (for cheap, just got the expanded basic service) is dreck.
So why did I do it, you ask?
Simple.
By the end of next week I'll be on nine weeks of maternity leave, with nothing but many, many doctor's appointments to look forward to.
I can only read so many books and surf the 'net for so many hours, so I decided it was time to join the majority of American society.
Plus, I still can't take my puppies outside, so I'll have to turn them into couch potatoes right alongside me! They're Italian Greyhounds, they were BRED to be couch potatoes! Well, living warming pans/hot water bottles, anyway.
So, if any of you folks have any TV suggestions for me, let me have them, please!
As long as it's not reality tv, 'cause that ain't happening.

Please, don't.

Here's a request for all you hard-core, exercise lovin' people, who insist on working out at six in the morning even while on vacation:
Please refrain from making sex noises while working out.
Grunting is annoying but acceptable, same with harsh breathing.
But the moaning and groaning has to STOP, especially if you work out for more than an hour.
Even if you ARE incredibly hot.
Thank you, I appreciate it.

And here's a tip: If you're making a lot of noise with the weights, you are doing it wrong.
If you rock back (bending your spine in the process) while doing what I think are SUPPOSED to be biceps curls, you are doing it wrong. Not to mention that obviously you need to use lighter weights, too.
Anyway, that's just my two cents.

Steve/Stephanie, if you are out there, thanks for making a fool out of me with what was obviously (in hindsight) a prank call, but you have to admit I was a complete professional, and extremely politically correct, even while you went on and on (and on) about how proud your Jewish mother was of having a daughter now instead of a son, and how EXPENSIVE it is to be a woman, and what else you needed waxed besides your legs.

If I'm wrong and you are legit, just to let you know, we'll have a few problems with the spa, as there are two gender specific ones. So it really matters if you are pre-op or post-op. Basically, if you still have a pecker, it's off to the men's spa you go, we don't care how you are dressed, coiffed, or made-up.
Sorry.
So no partying in the women's Jacuzzi for you, Mom and her eight friends who are supposedly coming to Las Vegas for your coming-out-of-the-closet party.

I really am too nice for my own good, sometimes.

Silver made a funny...

I pampered myself today and got a manicure and pedicure at the Nail Shack.
Silver spent the time playing Pokemon Pearl on her Nintendo DS.
When I was done, I went over to where she was sitting to get my wallet, when she commented, "So that's a french manicure, hmm? Fascinating..."
(Mr. Spock is her hero, though she always said that even before we began watching Star Trek!)
Then she added, "I know why they call it a "french manicure"."
I asked her why, and her response: "Because there are "white flags" everywhere!"
I truly got a giggle at that one, and so did the owner of the Nail Shack, when I told him.
He said he'd have to remember that one.

Variations on Nothing

First off, I'm mean.
We were stuck at a red light behind a Jeep with a "Meat is Murder" bumper sticker and a license plate holder that said "Animal Liberation".
So I pulled out my daughters (so-far) uneaten Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, held it up so the driver ahead of us could see it (if he'd been looking), and mimed going "MMMMMMMM!!!" while rubbing my tummy.
All the while, Silver was laughing hysterically while at the same time begging me to stop.
I just don't know what came over me.

And here's a tip to the fella who sat one seat away from me at our kids' end-of-year band concert:
Chewing gum (or sucking mints, or whatever) does nothing to mask the horrific, stale alchohol miasma surrounding you. It's coming from your PORES.
Deeeesgusting!
Considering just how preggers I am, my nausea was understandable.

I've been saying this for a while, but I'll repeat it: I really need to buy a frickin' digital camera, especially now that I have adorable puppies!!!

Two Italian Greyhound puppies, Tucker and Harley by name, 13 and 10 weeks old, respectively.
The only problem I have right now is the fact that they can't go outside until they've had all their shots. Which sucks, since the breeder in Nebraska didn't start the Giardia vaccine (maybe not needed there?), so I had to start those from scratch.
They get plenty of exercise racing around the apartment, playing tag, chase, and keep-away, but I have to admit my nerves do get a little frazzled! I'm looking forward to taking them on walks, I could certainly use the exercise!

Finally, I had an intensely erotic dream about a fellow blogger, who shall remain nameless, so don't even ask.
As a matter of fact, our activities became so...vigorous that we fell out of my bed, in a good way.

Just another aspect of being pregnant. Constant horniness.

Have a great weekend, everyone! I unfortunately had to go into work for a few hours today, but let's hear it for overtime...yaaaaay!

Oh, and considering that due to somebody in the payroll department, who's probably looking for a new job as I type this, accidentally fucking up, 1000 hotel employees, including my humble self, did not get paid yesterday, the fact that I was willing to come in today and work on my day off should earn me plenty of brownie points, maybe even a gold star!!!

Did that last sentence make sense? I don't know, I've read it about five times and I'm tired, so nighty-night!

No, thanks.

Today, in addition to Cinco de Mayo, also happens to be FREE COMIC BOOK DAY!!!!
Geeks of the world, rejoice!

However, as I was leaving the always excellent Maximum Comics, I was accosted by a woman who really, really, wanted me to buy some of the supposed designer perfume she was selling out of the trunk of her car.

She was very persistent and annoying, and when I finally convinced her that, yes, I was serious about NOT buying perfume from her, moved her focus to my fifteen-year-old daughter and started the same spiel.
Silver, being in some ways smarter than her mother, simply ignored the wench and got in the car.

Why, oh why, is it so hard for me to be rude?

Sometimes it would make life so much easier.

I actually do have plenty of backbone where telemarketers are concerned. Compared to my early twenties, where I was polite and actually would have a conversation with them, I now simply say that I'm on the do-not-call list and tell them never to call again. Then I hang up.

Maybe I need to do some daily affirmation, a la Stuart Smalley.

Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!