Totally Lame Fanboy

Yesterday I convinced my dear husband to drive to Denver to see Dooce and get a copy of her new book signed. Because I am a total moron I gave Chicken the camera to take a picture of Heather. Uh. Yeah. Good job, kid. It was fantastic except for the part where I walked up to her, handed her my book all while being struck mute. So many of the ladies were all chatty and shit, "blah blah been reading your blog forever and I want to hump your leg please let me touch you inappropriately" and I was just MUTE. I believe I said "thank you" like a little fucking schoolgirl but that was it. I am lame, people. Lame and mute.

Jon was there with her, and he signed my book, too. I was smart(ish) enough to snap a few pictures of him myself.
When he noted that the inscription from Heather was To Sam he asked if that was my name. I said no, it was my blog name and that I couldn't post it with my real name and then felt like a total weirdo and thought about running out of there with my remaining shred of dignity possibly (but not likely) intact. Jon said that he really liked Sam as a girl's name but that SOME people didn't like it while nodding pointedly at Heather. He wrote,"Sam! You are not a man! Thanks for coming out, Jon." Then he muttered about blah blah man they knew named Sam and it wouldn't work and my brain just kept going OMG TALKING TO JON. And then we drove back to Vail. The End.

Ultrasound

I had an ultrasound today. The doctor says the baby is looking good. We saw the spine clearly and then something that resembled a um...package. A manly package. The doctor said we'd check again in a month to be sure, but his bet is on a boy. Living in mah uterus. Wow.

I Love Google

If you should happen to search Google for "horse cock stories" you would get 1.75 (approximately) million results. My blog is #6 on that list. HA HA HA HA. I have fallen back in love with my site meter.

Bloody Hell

My PenisLicker of a husband needs to be hit repeatedly with a large, blunt, instrument of torture and death, preferably at or around the genitals. You see, the man sleeps like most men. I'll detail it for you:

1. Closes eyes.
2. Rolls over.
3. Falls asleep.
4. Snores lightly.

This whole process takes about twenty fucking seconds and is why, one day, I shall kill him until he is dead. Sometimes he will complain, whining endlessly that he isn't tired yet or can't fall asleep. Then I tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO TO SLEEP. And he does, in twenty seconds. I hate this about him. If you are a gentle soul and you are asking yourself, "Self, does she really tell her husband to SHUT THE FUCK UP?" please understand that I TOTALLY FUCKING DO SAY EXACTLY THAT.

It gets worse. Not only does he fall asleep quickly, easily, and wake up fresh like a freakin' bunny he has a horrible habit that he does WHILE he sleeps. He sweats like a bloody fucking pig. Even worse? He is in total denial about the reason he sweats. If he just admitted that he was a sweaty sleeper I could live with it, but FUCK NO. He blames it on the down comforter, which ends up 1/2 on my side of the bed and 1/2 on the floor. But SOME FUCKING HOW it makes him sweat.

It could be twelve degrees (Fahrenheit) in our bedroom, I could be sleeping with fucking icicles hanging out of my nostrils and he would be sweaty and still blame it on something else. Our conversations go something like this:

TB- "But you were lying next to me and I got overheated"

Sam- "I was sleeping on the couch"

TB- "But the comforter was too hot, maybe we should try one that isn't down."

Sam- "The comforter was in the washer last night"

TB- "But the fan wasn't positioned properly/on high enough"

Sam- "My pussy lips froze together it was so fucking cold you fucking asshole. JUST ADMIT THAT YOU ARE A SWEATY BEAST."

TB- "But what if..."

*Sam picks up blunt instrument and begins swinging*

I swear that he does this (the denial not the sweating) just to fucking annoy me. And lately I am easily annoyed. Right before I began to write this post I was yelling at TB to "shut the fuck up and go to sleep" and he was trying to cuddle up on me. You might say, "Awwww how cute" but I say, "Fuck off" because this is what happens:

1. He positions his wee little head on my shoulder and looks sweet.
2. He passes the fuck out (PTFO).
3. He begins to sweat.
4. I have to poke him until he wakes up enough to realize that I am tired of being sweated on and I wish him to go the fuck away.
5. He decides that cuddling more is nice.
6. I scream (quietly, so as not to wake the Chicken) for him to roll the fuck over and go to sleep.

That's not even taking into consideration the rash he likes to leave on my shoulder because his face is all scratchy and my skin is a delicate flower. He's really quite patient when I am acting like a fucking harpy but that doesn't make me any less of a cunt now, does it?

The Innernet Sucketh

My due date, carefully calculated by the Innernets and my cycle, is January 25, 2009. While I think that is a fabulous thing (the innernet giving me a due date) I am slightly not happy about it. The last really fucked up miscarriage I had was before I got knocked up with the Chicken and I had not yet gotten a due date (long story for another post). Therefore, there was no "OMG I would have had a baby on XYZ" date.

As the new car smell wore off of my uterus MANY years ago I don't have that "oh of course I'll have a baby in January. I'll probably deliver on my due date and I will smell like roses the whole fucking time" mentality. Nope. I am going to relax and take care of myself, but I'd be lying if I wasn't checking for blood every time I visit the bathroom. I just don't want to get blindsided by badness, and this pregnancy is about two minutes old.

Bitching aside, want to hear something that is AWESOME? The first date of my last period, a day that I will have to tell a million fucking people over the next few weeks/months/etc. is April 20th. That's right people. I'm carrying a 420 baby. I'm that cool.

Pr0n

I love me some good porn, and at I Really Should Be Working Thanksgiving Mom is giving away a copy of Porn for New Moms. Speaking of new moms, I am currently in the throes of the two week wait (2ww). For those not in the know, this is the time between baby-making nookie and the expected arrival of the period. Is there something in there? I have no idea. I can tell you that TB and I worked on this project like champions and we'll do it all over again next month if need be. Damn sex!

I have a small request. Let's pretend that you read my blog and you know me (or TB) in real life. Okay? Then let's pretend that I post "OMGWTFBBQ!!!" the instant I pee on a stick and it is positive. THEN let's pretend that I miscarry and post it on here. IF this happens I will likely not talk about it in real life. So DON'T FUCKING BRING IT UP YOU DOUCHE CANOE! It is your responsibility to keep up to date on the blog OR don't read. There is no fucking way I am telling friends that I am pregnant and then calling them all XX number of weeks later to say "Oops! Didn't stick!" Get it? Fabulous. I knew you could do it. Go team uterus!

Worst Example

How not to teach your child good study habits:

• Worry about passing the CSET for my teaching credential
• Pay $210 ($70 per subtest)
• Procrastinate studying
• Bitch, moan and whine about studying
• Do very little studying
• Seriously consider not showing up for the exam to prevent the emotional distress caused by five hours of failing miserably
• Take it and hope for the best
• Pass all three tests because I fucking ROCK and not because it is a model of appropriate behavior
  

You Totally Suck

Dear Innernets,

Today I started watching the show Weeds with my dear Teddy Bear who procured seasons one and two for me. I would just like to say Fuck you! innernets for not telling me about this show. If you were my friend, you would have said, "Sam, there is this show that you would undoubtedly love. It is called Weeds. You can see it on Showtime." I would have graciously thanked you and went off on my merry way to watch a splendidly, dirty, funny-assed show and been happy. But no, you didn't even once think of me as you watched with gleeful tears in your eyes. You suck.

Love,

Sam

Hangin' Brains

Have you noticed that scary bedtime stories are no longer in style? Scaring your children into good behavior is not quite as acceptable as it once was, and parents today are left with the daunting task of finding something, anything, to make our children behave. When we can't scare them with Boogey Monsters living under the bed or in the closet, we can't beat the shit out of them with a stick, we can't lock them in their rooms without supper (for a couple of days) what can a politically correct parent do? I have found the perfect solution for boys aged 11-15! Cisco Balls. During the prepubescent and early puberty stages, boys will do simply anything to fit in with their peers. Does your son need to:

• Clean his room
• Wash his hair
• Walk the dog
• Do the dishes
• Do his homework
• Turn off that damn rock music

Then you need Cisco Balls. Patented balls of doom and dismay, these balls will guarantee complete obedience from sons, step-sons, and the little red-headed boy down the street that walks funny and has a lisp. What better threat than "If you don't do as I say RIGHT NOW your balls are going to look like Cisco Adler's before you are 30 years old!" Are you ready to see this innovative product? I bet you are!

This link is NSFW. Or children, or people with morals, taste or a righteous fear of Satan. Click HERE.

*BTW, Cisco Adler is 29 years old according to multiple innernet sources.