I decided to wear a skirt today because it was either that or my yoga pants thanks to my previously-mentioned holiday fatness. I also decided not to wear pantyhose because I believe that if God had intended me to wear pantyhose he wouldn't have given me boots. However, the skirt I chose is not quite as long as I thought and the boots are not quite as tall as I thought and this has left me with a couple inches of exposed legs which have not been shaved in. well. in long enough that they should not be prancing around in public. Add to that the fact that it is freezing in my office which has caused me to be covered in goose bumps which means that my legs look like some deformed variety of furry porcupines, albeit porcupines wearing really nice black leather boots.

Honestly, you can't take me anywhere.

The best part of my day today was coming home and changing into my fat pants. Seriously. I think it's time for somebody to step away from the Thanksgiving leftovers.

Now, who wants some apple pie?

Jude Law is on the cover of People Magazine as the Sexiest Man Alive. Now, even though he is an unrepentant prick who walks out on pregnant women for fun, I still love me some Jude Law. I would like to put him behind me, to say, "no, Jude, I'm sorry but I just can't forgive you for what you've done. Now, stop calling me." But I can't. It isn't my fault though, it's his fault for being so freaking hot.

To tell the truth, despite my mad pining for Jude and my Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend Clive Owen, I have no interest in celebrities. In fact, I hold most of them in pretty high disdain and hold people who fawn over them in higher disdain. It's part of my snobby bitch persona.

Anyway, the point of this is that I bought the People with Jude on the cover. Chris was waiting for me in the car, and when I showed him he gave me a look of utter disbelief. He said, "I can't believe you bought a People. That's like... wait... let me think if the exact right simile here.... That's like Julia Child buying a McDonald's cheeseburger."

Mmmm.... cheeseburger.

Please don't ask me how this started because I don't remember, but last night at dinner the hubby and I had a conversation about how long a man would continue to have sex if various parts of his body suddenly caught on fire. We determined that this was dependant on two factors:

1 - how close he was to, you know, the end
2 - what specifically was on fire

As an example, we decided that there would be more of a grace period if his butt was on fire than there would be if his hair was on fire.

I am thankful, today and every day, that we found each other because clearly we live in our own little world but it is a fun and lovely place to be.

I went out at lunch today to have a couple of links taken out my new watch (part of the birthday bling haul). The woman who removed the links gave them back to me is a little plastic bag and said "Be sure to hold on to these, you may have to put them back in."

Clearly she was hinting that I am going to get fat and need a bigger watch, and what I want to know is: who told her about the cookies?

So I've gone and set up a notify list - it's that ugly thing over on the right because I can't get the background to be anything other than yellow. You see, I'm convinced that I am so fabulous and amazing and brilliant that you will all want to join my notify list so that you can be among the first to read the pearls of wisdom that I bestow upon the internet and therefore make yourselves into happier people and better human beings. Also, everyone else already has one and I am nothing if not covetous and grabby.

Ya'll are welcome to sign up if you want to, but I can't really say that I recommend it as I am likely to either forget to use it or else remember to use it on those days when I post eight different things and you will get so tired of the spam you will make me take you off the list and then hate me forever. I also might decide to send long and boring descriptions of my sex life to the list. I mean, I've already posted it on the internet so clearly I have no shame. So you know, consider yourself warned.

As a special treat for myself, I brought two cookies to work today to eat this afternoon when I was bored and tired and needed a sugar rush. I ate them at 9:15. They were lovely, but now I really miss my cookies.

Frankly, there are lots of ways to piss me off, but here's one example. Last night I saw a commercial I had not seen before. It was for an ovulation test. Most of the ad was a lesson in Biology 101 and was sanctimonious and annoying enough, but the tag line was what really got to me. "Because when you are ready to be a mother, nine months is long enough to wait."

First, let me just say fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

Second, thanks so much for alerting me to your fabulous product which will be certain to lead to immediate pregnancy for me and everyone else out here who is struggling to get knocked up. It seems we are all just too damned stupid to figure out that ovulation is related to getting pregnant and thank our lucky stars that you have developed a product to solve all our problems. Good thing that's the only issue at play here, at least according to your helpful ad.

Third, I've learned a lot over the last year. I've learned never to ask anyone when they are planning to have children. I've learned never to ask a pregnant woman whether it is her first baby. I've learned not to question people's behaviors and choices in this area, even when some of those things seem unnecessarily strange or painful to me. Mainly I've learned that there are more people than I ever suspected who jump through all sorts of hoops to try to get pregnant and that, especially if you are trying to market a product to us, it pays to be a little sensitive to that fact.

I was just in the ladies room, doing what ladies do, and as it just happened to be in my line of sight while reaching for the toilet paper I inadvertently gazed for an instant into the feminine product disposal unit bolted to the wall and noticed that there was a strip of backing such as would have been removed from some sort of panty-lining device and this strip of backing was printed with little pink hearts. I can't help but wonder who got the idea that a heart theme was ideal in this context.

I was about 5 minutes away from my office this morning when I realized that I wasn't wearing my wedding ring (or my engagement ring or my anniversary band). Oh well, I thought. Then I realized how much not having my ring would annoy the ever-living tar out of me, so I turned around and went home to get my ring. By the time I made it home and back my 20 minute commute had become an hour and I was late for a meeting, but at least I wasn't going to be fidgeting and twitching all day. Well, at least no more than normal.

It gets worse. I am totally out of Altoids. I have been reduced to eating life savers out of the vending machine and they just are not doing it for me. The only thing that is worse than running out of Altoids is running out of Chap Stick. Gasp! Or both, god forbid.

I may have to go get a gingerbread latte to console myself. There's a Starbucks in my building and I haven't had a gingerbread latte since yesterday and am starting to go into withdrawal.

And trust me, I understand that I am spoiled rotten and that nobody feels even the least bit sorry for me. I'm pretty ok with that.

Last night, we went to my parents' for a family dinner to celebrate my birthday. Except that we didn't. Instead, my entire family showed up at my house in a huge stretch limo.

I can't help myself, I have to give a shout-out to Zoot. Not only is she smart and funny and a blog guru, she also gave me a three column template for my blog, which I am right in the middle of destroying.

Now, the question is how much can I steal from Zoot and still claim that I did my own design?

I've got nothing today, so here, look at the pretty flowers my boss sent me on Monday.

I am such a brown-noser.

... you try to remove your big honking ugly annoying pager from your waste band and it's caught on your thong and you end up pulling your underwear up to about armpit level before you realize what's going on?

Or is that just me?

In the beginning was the fly.

1. Thank you all for commenting on my post yesterday. For a while there it was very, very quiet and I worried that perhaps it had been a little too much sharing. I promise to avoid extended discussions of my sex life as much as possible. However, if you are for some reason terribly interested in my sex life, you should go check out my husband's version.

2. Are you guys reading Aussie Mama? If not, you really need to get on the ball. She cracks me up daily and also frequently talks to a handsome fireman and I am living vicariously through her.

3. You know that sinking feeling you get in your stomach when you see the cop too late to slow down to anything in the neighborhood of the speed limit and then the cop pulls out behind you? Yeah, me too. I managed to somehow make it into work without a ticket and without even having to break out the crocodile tears. I think the cop decided that I was just too attractive to pull over. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

4. Someone near and dear to me has been nominated for a Diarist Award. I think he should definitely win as 1) he is awesome and 2) the winners are supposed to be announced on his birthday and how cool would that be? You should all go check it out and as long as you are there also vote. I'm not going to give you any recommendations on who to vote for. I'm sure that all of the nominees are deserving, but obviously some are more deserving that others.

So, Chris and I are trying to get knocked up so we can have a child upon which to inflict all of our various neuroses. The latest piece of the continuing saga is that we are now having sex (now known around the house as The Sex) on a very strict schedule dictated by my doctor. I tell you this only so that I can relate the following conversation we had last week.

Him: Do you want to have The Sex now?
Me: I thought you were going to take a shower.
Him: I was, but if I take a shower before The Sex I'll have to take another one after, so I thought it would be more efficient this way.
Me: Oh, that makes sense. Ok, just let me brush my teeth first.
Him: We've taken every bit of romance out of this, haven't we?
Me: Pretty much.

Don't feel bad for me though. I may not have much romance lately, but I still have lots of The Funny and lots and lots of The Sex. Things? They could be worse.

Well, I'm officially 30. If you want to be uptight about it (which I do) I wasn't actually 30 until 2:00 this morning as I was born very late at night in California. I think that means I should get more presents today. Anyway, I had a lovely weekend and a lovely birthday and was fully spoiled by my charming husband, including a specially prepared birthday breakfast and dinner at my favorite restaurant and a cheap grocery store birthday cake, which is my absolute favorite. I think I'm still buzzing from the sugar. I still have a birthday party to get through (next weekend since half my family was out of town this weekend) and then I promise that I will seriously consider not mentioning my birthday anymore.

Many thanks to all of you for your kind birthday wishes, and please accept my apologies for being a week behind in responding to email.

Quick question - is it tacky that I'm wearing the same outfit today that I wore to dinner last night?

Will you lose all respect for me if I admit that I may be more excited by the Paul Simon box set than the bling?

Do you have any idea how hard it is to take pictures of diamonds? Here's the best I got, although it really doesn't do it justice.

I wrote this long post about despair and hardship and crying on the floor and holes and pits and hills and crossroads and relationships and faith and trust and learning to love myself, but it was boring as all shit so I deleted it.

The short version is that I have been freaked out about turning 30, because it's 30! Oh my, 30! Did you hear me? I said 30! I don't know why I've been freaking, I don't have any good reason. The truth of the matter is that 29 really sucked for me. I hope to one day look back and think "oh yes, 29, ha-ha, that was the worst year of my entire life. Thank goodness it got better from there." So I am looking forward to 30. I am looking forward to putting some distance between me and this terrible year. I am looking forward to making all of the hard and vulgar things into lessons learned rather than injuries.

I'm ready. I have learned a lot this year about who I am and who I am not. I'm ready to stand up for myself, to take risks, to believe that I will be ok. I understand that life goes off the tracks sometimes, and that is not always a bad thing.

Look out 30; I'm going to make you my bitch.

Best thing about lunch (other than the charming company of my friend the muffin): Green tea ice cream. Have you had this? Why didn't you tell me about it?

Worst thing about lunch: Splashing soy sauce on my brand new shirt. At least I didn't drop my water all over my friend the muffin, which is what I did the last time we went to lunch.

BTW - the muffin is an actual person and a dear friend of mine who has allowed me to call him the muffin for 6 years, even in public.

Dear Internet,

I would like to apologize for thinking that you are a big bunch or hairy stalkers with bad teeth and b.o. But really, it was an honest mistake. I received a UPS package yesterday from "Guess." There was a birthday card, signed "Al." There was also a very pretty 2005 planner with flowers and such. I had no idea who could have sent this package. The only Al we know is Chris's grandfather and he would be hard pressed to tell you what his own name was these days, so we ruled him out. I tracked the package. It was sent locally. That was when I really started to freak out. I had visions of crazy internet people hiding in my bushes and peeking in my windows and maybe washing and detailing my car. Actually, that part wouldn't have been too bad. I tracked the phone number - no luck. I tried the address - no luck. I checked the package for anthrax. What does anthrax look like anyway?

I would also like to apologize to the few of you that have my address for thinking that you had been passing it out on the street or possibly had taken out an add in the Washington Post saying "Ever wanted to be a stalker? Start with Beth! Here's her address!" (It did occur to me for a minute that it might be one of you who had decided to stalk me and honestly, I was okay with that.) It also occurred to me that maybe Chris was the one being stalked by someone who had decided to clear the way for a torrid love affair with my husband by rubbing me out and then being there to comfort him in his hour of need. That's when I checked the package for anthrax again.

Finally, I would like to apologize to my good friend Alexis for thinking she was a stalker and had mailed me anthrax.

Fair warning, people, blogging makes you paranoid.

I'm taking the day off work on Friday so I can have a long birthday weekend, and I'm having a really hard time deciding what to do with the day. This is keeping me up nights. So, I decided to put it to the Internet for a vote. Here are my options, won't you please help me decide?

a) manicure and pedicure
b) massage at Elizabeth Arden
c) shoe shopping
d) trying on my new bling with all my different tops and admiring it under different lighting conditions
e) all of the above

So, what do you think?

*Thomas Paine

I totally forgot the Very Excellent Idea I had today. Well, it was a very excellent idea that Mindy had, but I am going to take it and make it my own and become the world's leading expert in it. Are you ready?

You can put stickers! on babies!

*Runs out to buy stickers.*
*Realizes she is not, in fact, pregnant.*
*Runs out to buy stickers anyway - best to be prepared.*

I got my hand slapped at dinner for not posting today, so consider me duly chastised. Today was just not a good posting day. There were meetings! And intrigue! And drama! And pirates! Ok, there were just meetings, but they lasted from 8:30 to 5:30 so that's my excuse. There was a pirate earlier this week, but it turned out to just be a blister on Chris's hand from raking. We named it. No drama or intrigue though, I lied about that. Sometimes I think what I really need is more drama and intrigue. Or maybe just fewer meetings.

I have this really great photo essay to post of pictures I took with my new camera phone of Chris protecting me from a brazen and dangerous intruder. With a dishtowel. And then standing on the counter. This is good stuff, people, except that I can't seem to get the pictures off my new camera phone. It anybody wants to come over I'll be happy to show you, but otherwise you will just have to wait until I figure it out.

In the absence of anything to write about, I present a snippet of conversation from dinner tonight:

Him: I confused myself a little bit there.
Me: How so?
Him: I lost track of what I was doing with my tongue.

Nope, sorry, no explanation for the title of this post other than it amused me briefly.

I have a confession to make. I cleaned out some closets this weekend (well ok, I moved things around between various closets and didn't actually get rid of anything) and I uncovered a stash of previously undocumented handbags. Yes, I know, I have issues. Shut up.

Also this weekend, I took my husband to see topless dancers. With my parents. There we were: Mom, Dad, me, Chris, all in a row watching women dance around without any actual tops. I could explain how this came about, but it is much more fun to just leave it at that.

And finally, I am turning 30 in (gulp) 6 days and as a reward for not rushing off to get a face lift and a boob job and a 22 year old boyfriend, my husband agreed to buy me some bling for my birthday. We got it on Saturday. It is the blingiest bling that has ever blinged in my presence, but you know, tasteful like. It was also about three times as much as I was expecting to spend, but what? I'm supposed to argue with my husband and say no honey, please don't buy me those blingy blingy diamonds? How about you buy me that dog collar thing we saw at Tiffany's instead? Yeah, I don't think so. So we bought it and I wore it Saturday night because we couldn't just leave it in the car now could we and I wore it yesterday too because it is important to look blingy and sophisticated when you are raking leaves. I took it off before bed last night so I wouldn't keep Chris awake with all the shiny sparkly moonbeams bouncing off the bling all night. I will post a picture but not until next week because I am going to make Chris wrap it up with a bow and give it to me on Sunday so I can act surprised and get that new bling glow all over again. So yes, apparently in addition to my purse fetish I have a rampant and unchecked diamond fetish. What's a girl to do?

Don't hate me because I'm blingyful.

I lied about the no more politics thing. Sue me.

Yesterday I got a comment that accused me of thinking that anyone who didn't agree with my political opinions was a Communist. I thought this was funny for two reasons:

1. I never expressed any opinion on people who didn't agree with me. In fact, I never mentioned that such people existed.
2. Clearly, anyone who does not agree with me is a Fascist. I'm the Communist.

This made me wonder two things:

1. Are we no longer teaching the political spectrum in eighth grade Civics?
2. Just how much of a Communist am I?

So, I found this cool site where you can answer some questions and find out where you fall on the political spectrum and then compare yourself to other world figures. I am a nearly exact match to Nelson Mandela. I'm a little sad actually; it might have been fun to be a Communist.

From a banner I saw this morning:

Civil Marriage is a Civil Right

True that.

I wasn't going to do this, because I would much rather blog about my hair and my big ass than about politics, but I read one too many posts today about why the results of the election don't really matter that much and frankly, it pissed me off. So here, in no particular order, are some of the reasons it matters a great deal to me.

I believe in the separation of church and state. I am a Jewish/Episcopalian/Atheist and that is nobody's damn business except my own. I believe that people, and especially children, should be allowed to follow their own hearts and to build their beliefs within their hearts and their families and should not be forced to adhere or pander to religious fundamentalists.

I believe in the Judeo-Christian ethic and moral framework and I believe that we should live it. I believe we should give all we can unto the least of us, that we should love our neighbors, that we should care for the poor and the sick and the disadvantaged. I believe the rich have a moral obligation to assist the poor, both within our own country and in the world.

I believe in protecting the environment for the benefit of our children and our grandchildren and all the generations to come. I believe we need a sensible, responsible, and public energy policy that works toward sustainability and the preservation of the planet.

I believe that while maintaining our sovereignty and self-determination, we should work with other democratic and peaceful nations around the world to make this world a better place. I believe we have a unique ability to support multi-national organizations as they work for universal peace and prosperity and that we should do all we can do to support those organizations. I believe that we need to walk the talk. I believe we need should sign Kyoto and ban land mines. I believe we need to use the bully pulpit to affect positive change.

I believe in gun control. I actually believe that we should repeal the Second Amendment, but I am willing to settle for a reasonable gun control policy that takes ludicrous weapons off of our streets and out of our homes.

I believe that consenting adults should be able to do whatever brings them bliss provided that they do not injure or exploit others to do it.

I believe that what people read is their own fucking business.

I believe that medical decisions of any kind are the sole and private concern of a patient and a doctor.

I believe in teaching adolescents how to avoid pregnancy and potentially fatal diseases if they are unwilling to abstain from sex. I believe in teaching that abortion is not an appropriate form of birth control. I believe that no woman should be forced against her will to risk her health or future on a pregnancy.

I believe that the death penalty is arbitrarily and capriciously applied and that as long as that is the case it should be banned.

I believe that John Kerry was not the best we had to offer, but I know that he would have faithfully executed the office of the President of the United States in a way that was more in keeping with my beliefs and convictions, in a way that I felt was morally and socially right and responsible.

I believe that we are each entitled to hold our own opinions and speak our minds. These are my opinions.

I believe it matters.

I just looked over at the clock on my phone and saw that it was almost five o'clock! Except that no, it isn't. I haven't reset the clock for daylight savings time.

I need to learn a new curse word.

Too depressed to type. Think I'll go get another doughnut.

I was planning to get my husband's "I Voted" sticker and do the nipple thing, but by the time he voted they had run out of stickers. (Or else he didn't really vote and is lying to prevent me from witholding sex.) Therefore, I am forced to go with my original plan.

Tell the truth - am I the hottest girl with a sticker on her head that you have ever seen? Yeah, I know I am.

I was planning to post an Election Day Photo Essay today taken with my brand new camera phone, starting with the length of the lines at my neighborhood polling place at 6 AM this morning followed by a selection of the various "I Voted" stickers I have seen at work today. There really is quite a bit of variety in those "I Voted" stickers. Mine, for example reads "I Voted: Presidential Election 2004." I suppose this is to prevent a person from hanging onto their stickers from previous elections and using them on Election Day to foist themselves off on the unsuspecting public as someone who has done their civic duty. The photo essay was meant to culminate with a picture of my very own "I Voted" sticker attractively affixed to my forehead.

However, my brand new camera phone which arrived yesterday was cleverly shipped to me without a minor accessory that makes it possible for the phone to, you know, function. Therefore you, The Internet, will not be able to view my carefully planned photo essay and will therefore not be so inspired by the variety and power of I Voted Sticker Art that you rush immediately from your computers and make it your personal mission to insure that every person within a 5 square mile radius of you (larger in rural areas) casts a ballot before the polls close tonight. This is a sad, sad day for Democracy.

While you weep quietly to yourselves, I will tell you a fun thing to do while voting. After you turn in your ballot, go up to the little old lady handing out the "I Voted" stickers and ask if you could pretty please have two of them so you can wear them on your nipples. It is worth it to see the expression on her face. Trust me.

Decisions are made by the ones that show up.

Show up.