Die Hard 4...

kicks total ass!!!
Really enjoyed it, even though (or maybe because) it was completely over the top.
Loved all the snarky humor, thought the bad guy was a little lame, but, oh, well, can't have everything.

On Saturday I will be 36 weeks pregnant, which is considered full-term for twins.
However, my doc wants me to try to make it to 37 weeks and two days, because Monday the 9th of July is convenient for him. Whatever! The babies will come when they're ready, and I seriously doubt I can make it all the way to the 9th!

Speaking of twins, had to think of a bit Ray Romano did after he and his wife had identical twin boys, about how it was imperative that twins be at least decent-looking, because they're TWINS!
I remembered this because at Walmart the other day, my daughter and I saw a couple with identical twin boys, about a year-and-a-half old, who were cross-eyed. (Let me clarify, the twins were cross-eyed, not the parents!)

Silver of course said I was mean to even notice, but come on! You already do a double-take when you see twins, identical ones anyway, and for them to have a very visible physical "defect" like that, it's got to be blog fodder!

Hey, it's not like I pointed and laughed!

And I know that the problem can be fixed, so shut up already about what an evil bitch I am, 'kay?

Anything else going on? Let me think. Nope, I think I'm done for now.

Cool movie...

Saw Ocean's Thirteen a few hours ago. Excellent, entertaining movie.

George Clooney + Tuxedo = DROOOOOOOL!!!!

Ahem, at least that was the consensus between my daughter and I.

I have an older brother who has a resemblance to Brad Pitt, so I've never been able to get excited about him. Too creepily incestuous, if you know what I mean!

Anyway, that's what I did this Saturday evening, Bistro Buffet at the Palms, followed by Ocean's Thirteen at Brenden Theaters.

This was of course AFTER I took a three hour nap Saturday afternoon. I gotta have my naps now!

Have a great Sunday, everyone! And for those of you who qualify: Happy Father's Day, too!

Happy Birthday, Silver!

Yes, today is Silverevilchao's (Silver for short) birthday.
When I wished her Happy Birthday this morning, she said, "I can't believe I'm 16...it makes me feel old!"
WTF???!!
How do you think it makes ME feel, Kiddo??!!
Ancient!
Hope you've had fun today!
Love you,
Mom

Sailing away...

that's how I feel right now.

I ended up spending a little over three hours at the labor and delivery department on Monday, due to having some contractions.
Turns out I was dehydrated.
Fuck that!
Don't they know how much water I've been drinking?!
Apparently not, and it's obviously not enough.
So now I'm schlepping around my half-gallon water jug, which I refill periodically throughout the day.

In between bathroom runs.

Since I'm only 33 weeks (and change) pregnant, it's definitely way too soon to be giving birth, I have about 3 to 4 weeks to go.
I had an appointment with the perinatal specialist today (gestational diabetes, but I really don't want to talk about that, needles, ugh!), and he pointed out to me that I'm basically carrying the weight of a full-term baby already, since twin A is 4 pounds, 1 ounce, and twin B is 4 pounds, 6 ounces.
"That's why you're so miserable", he said!
Thanks for pointing that out to me, Doc, like my gigantic, monstrous belly isn't a clue?!

In other news today:

Why the hell can't old farts keep their shirts on when they take the trash out?
Is it some kind of AARP rule I don't know about?
Seriously, while my daughter and I were cruising toward home in the apartment complex, we observed TWO old men, 30 seconds and about 500 feet apart, taking their respective trash bags to their respective dumpsters sans shirts.

Why couldn't it have been some hunky guys in their twenties, huh, huh???

Is it so difficult to provide some eye-candy for the (sexually) deprived?

Life's not fair.

Well, at least they kept their pants on.

(H/T to Big Dick, whose link you'll find to the right, for spoiling my appetite)
(Blogger is being a BITCH and won't let me put the link in this post!!!)

Affectionate Nickname?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Ahhhhhh.

So, I'm finally on maternity leave.

Yippeeeee!

Ahem.

One of the bellmen who goes by "Friday" (I don't know why, I can never get a straight answer out of him) was doing bench presses the other day on his break.
I sauntered over to the fitness area and posed in profile to the mirrored wall.
Pulling my uniform polo shirt tight over my gigantic, preggo belly, I said, "Man, I've really got to do something about this gut, more crunches or something. And I really should lay off the beer!"
Friday started laughing (probably not a good idea while bench pressing!), and said that that was a "keg" belly, not a beer belly.
I have to agree!

Well, the crunches will have to wait a few more weeks. The doc wants me to go at least to 37 weeks gestation (I'm expecting twins, so 36 weeks is full-term), and then (if I don't go into labor on my own) he'll induce me on July 9th.

When it's convenient for him.

Whatever works, I guess. I just want to avoid a c-section at all costs, because I really don't want to be cut open. Ugh!

And just FYI, for the three people who read this blog, the babies I'm expecting are not mine.

I'm a surrogate mother.

That's all I'm saying, because of confidentiality, etc, etc.

I wanted to be a surrogate for quite some time, and I finally realized I'd better hop to it before I got too old!

It's been quite the adventure so far, including an initial miscarriage last summer, followed by the repeat embryo transfer in November, and then finding out that it was twins!

Well, it's not like I haven't had twins before, my own are 13 now.
But there's a big difference between carrying twins at 23, and carrying twins at 37!
Everything ACHES.
Hence the maternity leave! Got to have some time to put my feet up, especially if I'm supposed to avoid early labor.

I've also found that the hormones make me want to blurt out all the incredibly rude (yet accurate) thoughts running through my head.

Like how I wanted to tell the woman in the waiting room at my OB yesterday to turn her fucking cell phone off NOW, or go out into the hallway.
She wasn't even a patient, just accompanying a nervous friend, and she talked on her phone, in a carrying tone of voice, for over an hour.
Just when I'd think the torture would be over, because the call was, she'd dial a new number and the agony would begin again.

Maybe she wanted the attention, dropping lines like "Ritz-Carlton", and "$800,000"

Whoop-de-do.

She reminded me of the hotel guests who come into the spa and want to charge something to their room, and say "I'm in Penthouse 36."

Who gives a flying fuck, anyway. I need an actual ROOM NUMBER to charge anything, and even the penthouses have actual numbers, like penthouse 36 on the 19th floor will be 1936, DUH!
It's not like we're the Bellagio, or Caesars!
We're the cheapest joint on the strip, for God's sake.

But I digress, sorry.

Had some fun in the last week at work, there was an Impersonators' Convention going on, and I got to see quite a few ersatz-celebrities, including Arnie, who wanted my colleague 4chun Cookie to elope to Kahliforrrnia with him, and asked if her name was Maria, Richard Gere, George Burns (sans cigar, to my disappointment), and Barney Fife, in uniform!
My other colleague A. saw an extremely tall Paris Hilton, and a remarkably un-rotted Anna Nicole Smith, plus B.B. King.
All in all, there were quite a lot of double-takes in the casino!

Well, I guess I'll check what's on the boob-tube now, probably crap, but I might get lucky!

Carry on and continue enjoying your weekend!