So the Fish Said...

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear.

- Walt Whitman

Meet the Fish

I want to get a pet duck and keep it in the bathtub.
I am addicted to chap stick and altoids.
I am freakishly flexible.

World's Most Beautiful Child


World's Most Handsome Child


Other Important Things

Clive Owen

Clive Owen
Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend

RSS Syndicate this site (XML)

Design by Emily

© Copyright 2004
All Rights Reserved.

so the fish said...
  home links archives about contact


« February 2005 | Main | April 2005 »

Three posts. One day. I am out of control!

Unusual things I have seen today

I big, burly, rough looking, Harley-guy type driving a baby blue Geo Prizm with a bumper sticker that said "I Love Bats."

A woman taking a full bath in the sink in the ladies room at my office. She had her own bar of soap and one of those poofy scrubber thingies. Ok, she was standing next to the sink, not actually in the sink.

Random bits

I think my breakfast cereal may be making me sick.

I had a dream last night where I had had the baby and was taking care of her, except that the baby was Chris. Sometimes he was baby sized and I carried him around and sometimes he was normal sized and wanted to borrow the car. I told him he couldn't borrow the car because he was only a week old. Pregnant girls have some wild dreams, yo.


The mighty powers that be have conceded that I am not quite as obscene as they thought. So, all of you who cannot read this post today should be able to read it tomorrow.

I have to admit I'm a little sad. This was the first time I've ever been banned and it was fun.

Careful, may contain Adult Content

Thanks to everyone who identified the web monitoring company who has added me to their filters. I sent them a very polite note this morning questioning how I earned a place in their "Adult Content" list and requesting that they reclassify me. I'm sure we'll get this cleared up shortly. If not, I'll move on to being really annoying and rude. It may not help, but it will make me feel better.

Just in case I am not successful in proving my point that I am a sweet and innocent young lady who would never write anything even mildly offensive, I do have a Notify list that you can join and receive an email when I update (ok, really when I update and remember to ping my notify list). If you like, enter your email address in the little box thing over on the right and then when I post you will receive an email and can spend the rest of the day gnashing your teeth and rending your garments in frustration at not being able to access my witty and ground-breaking post. But at least you would know it was there for the next time you have internet access in a less draconian environment.

Finally, I wanted to point out that I have added Ben from Hey You to the Belly Brigade section of my blogroll. Now, Ben, being male, is not technically pregnant, but he is welcoming a new little girl to his lovely family in the next few weeks and he also met my extra requirement for adding him to the list, which was sending me a belly pic. So, welcome Ben to the company of the crazy, hormonal, chubby girls, and for anyone who is interested I am happy to sell you a picture of Ben's belly for the bargain price of $1.

Oh - wait. Does offering to sell pictures of someone's naked belly qualify as Adult Content?

I'm obscene!

So I am apparently being blocked by at least one of the web content monitoring services based on the "adult content" on my blog. What I'm trying to figure out is whether it is because I use four letter words occasionally, or because of the blatant full belly nudity, or possibly because I am pregnant and therefore have obviously had sex at some point in my life. Whatever it is, I can't help feeling a little proud. I've been banned!


This is so boring, sorry.

I finally got around to cleaning up my blogroll and have taken off some links. If you used to be there and aren't anymore, it is for one of the following reasons:
- You moved and I don't have your new site
- We've never spoken or we haven't spoken in many months
- You dumped me first and I took it personally

If you aren't in one of these categories and I have removed you it was accidental and I apologize and if you let me know I will fix it immediately.

Phase two is adding all the new links I have been too lazy to add over the last several weeks months, and because I am pregnant and therefore tired and stupid I am asking for your help. Are you a regular or even occasional commenter? Are you in my links? If not, it's an oversight, please let me know so I can add you.

Also, I wanted to get all the pregnant girls together so I don't have to search my whole list for your sites. If you belong in that group, please let me know because once again I am too tired and stupid to do it myself. Also, if you can think of a better name for that list I'm happy for recommendations.

Finally, how totally adorable is it that I found a pregnancy counter with a little pink fish? I wasn't going to have a counter because I am a snob, but when I saw that I couldn't resist.

People, please

I know it's tempting, but I don't care who you are or how well you know her, unless you are the person directly responsible for her condition, do not touch a pregnant woman's belly without asking for and receiving her permission.

Things not to do when your pregnant wife points out that her belly button is the size of a moon crater

1. Say "ew"
2. Recommend that she begin storing her chap stick in there
3. Check to see whether the chap stick actually fits

Strong Enough

Do you guys know that Sheryl Crow song that goes "are you strong enough to be my man?" Well, when you are pregnant and trying to get dressed in the morning, that song can easily become "are you long enough to be my shirt?"

God, I feel like hell today
Why won't work just go away?
Have to go, can't look like dirt
Are you long enough to be my shirt?

Lie to me
I promise I'll go shopping
Lie to me
Say your buttons aren't popping

I have a belly I cannot show
Make the fashion rules up as I go
It's stretch to fit me, it won't hurt
Are you long enough to be my shirt?

Hey, you people are lucky. Lima Bean had to listen to this live.

More hot fashion for the pregnant girl

I have this problem: all of the sudden, I have boobs. Now really, this is not a problem. In fact, I am rather enjoying having boobs for the first time in my 30 years. However, it makes it that much more difficult to find a shirt to wear every morning. I don't actually have any maternity clothes because I am lazy and hate them and a lot of my regular clothes still fit. (Well ok, a lot of my regular clothes still fit up until this week. Now, not so much.) Anyway. The new problem is that the shirts that still fit over my belly all tend to be v-necks or otherwise low-cut, which was never a problem before because a shirt would have to be cut practically to my belly button before I risked exposing boobage, but these days all these shirts reveal a large expanse of cleavage. (Can you believe it? I have cleavage! Me!) This morning, I needed a black tank top to wear under the sweater my mother gave me that I swore I would never wear but I am desperate and wearing it. I tried on the brand new actual maternity tank top I bought this weekend and it was boobs as far as the eye could see. So, I tried a black sleeveless sweater I had from before I got so knocked up. Same problem. Boobs, boobs and more boobs. Then I had a very clever idea! So clever that I am really impressed with myself. And now I look totally hot, in a really pregnant way, and you can't even tell that I am wearing my shirt backwards.

Hey - at least my pants are staying up all on their own and I haven't spilled anything on myself. Yet.

I want to get a pet duck and keep it in the bathtub


Cooking Light

Chris lost dibs on this by forgetting what we were talking about.

Him: Can I ask why your mother sends us Cooking Light?
Me: Sure.
Him: Would you have an answer for me?
Me: I would.
Him: Ok, what is it?
Me: You haven't asked yet. You only asked if you could ask.
Him: Fine. Why does your mother send us Cooking Light?
Me: I have no fucking idea.

Some randomness

First off, I am very sorry that I have not been to so many of your sites for so long. I feel really awful about it, but there is this thing going on at work right now that prevents me from doing much surfing and by the time I leave work, go to the gym and have dinner I end up crashing on the couch most nights too beat to move so I don't get any reading done at home either. By the way - I don't know anything about that second trimester glow everyone talks about. I'm still exhausted. Not as bad as it was in the first trimester, but it turns out this pregnant thing is rather hard work.

Second, is it just me or has it been March for at least 3 months? I can't believe there are two entire weeks left. This has been the longest month of my life for no reason whatsoever, it just keeps right on being March no matter what I do. Can I take the rest of March off and just start again in April?

Third, my favorite part of my entire weekend was when my mother in law called me chubby. We went over there for dinner on Saturday, and after spending the entire evening pointing out to the entire crowd how big my belly is getting, when we were leaving she said "Goodnight Chris, goodnight Chubby." I was less that entirely amused.

Fourth, anybody have any suggestions on where to buy nursery furniture? We went to Babies R Us over the weekend and nothing they had really thrilled me. They did however have a little Tigger hat and bib and a Winnie the Pooh outfit that I just had to buy. And then of course I had to organize all our baby clothes by type (onesies on the left, footie pjs on the right). Tonight I will go back and organize each section by color. I also got some laundry markers and marked a blue dot on everything my mom has given us and a green dot on everything my mother in law has given us so that I can dress the kid appropriately for audiences with each grandma. See, they will remember and notice and I definitely will not so I am just saving myself a lot of angst.

And finally, last night I had a dream which involved, in part, a bunch of people running up a snow covered hill carrying and flapping large white feather-covered wings while "We Are the Champions" played and people sang along. Just thought I would share.

Well ain't that a kick in the head

I get these friendly and colorful weekly emails about what my baby is up to, such as "your baby is now the size of a kiwi fruit and has rather attractive gills on the sides of her head." Ordinarily, I enjoy these emails because they compare the size of my fetus to a piece of food, such as a lime or a jumbo shrimp. However, today's email for 21 weeks pregnant included the sentence "And you can certainly feel him move." Now, first of all, this is a sentence fragment and they should not be emailing such poor grammar to pregnant women where it can be witnessed and mimicked by impressionable unborn children. (Yes, I know I do it all the time but we are criticizing someone else at the moment so shut up.) Second, no I certainly cannot feel her move. Not a bit. Not once. So thank you, friendly and colorful weekly email for making me think there is something horribly wrong with my child because I cannot feel what you say I certainly should. I appreciate your support at this challenging time when I am already spending most of my time on the verge of tears and hysteria thanks to the rampant hormones running through my brain. From now on, you can leave me and my banana-sized fetus the hell alone.

And just for the record, I may not be able to feel my baby move, but I am 21 weeks pregnant and still wearing my regular jeans. So there.

Hot Stuff

I am wearing my pajamas to work today. Now, ok, it is just a white tank top, but I bought it as pajamas and up until today have always worn it as pajamas, but at this point any item of clothing that still fits is fair game.

My pants are held up with safety pins. They are new and I bought them a little big so I (and the Lima Bean) could grow into them and figured I would wear a belt to keep them up in the meantime. No belt loops, therefore, safety pins.

I am wearing a brand-new baby blue sweater that I purchased specifically for it's belly-covering properties. First thing this morning, I spilled coffee all down the front.

I am so hot.

How we are stupid

We have been having trouble with the furnace lately. It would do all the normal furnac-y things like rev itself up, go whoosh, the gas would ignite and burn for a minute, and then it would shut down. It didn't do this all the time, just some of the time and usually at night. So, we were annoyed, but not popsicles. After a few weeks of saying to each other "gee, I wonder what's wrong with the furnace" we finally called the furnace guy to come take a look. Of course, we had to pay him $72 just to show up. Now, I wish I had a job where I got $72 just for showing up. Think of how motivating that would be! Every morning, someone would meet me at the door of my office and say "thanks for showing up, Beth. Here's $72 for your trouble." Although, as I am salaried and have been occasionally known to spend an entire day at work doing nothing at all that could realistically be considered part of my job, I guess I do sometimes get even more than $72 just for showing up. However, I digress.

The furnace man came and collected his money and looked at our furnace and quickly diagnosed what was wrong with it. Filth. Yup, our furnace is just too dirty to operate. I have no idea how this could have happened, but I am positive that it has nothing to do with the fact that we hadn't changed the furnace filter since last May. You see, I am a very clever girl and I cleverly mark the date on the furnace filter whenever I replace it so that I will know when it is time for a new one, so I can tell you without a doubt that I last replaced the filter on May 23. My excuse for not replacing it since then is that it really is a man's job and Chris should have done it. Also, I forgot.

While I am being positive of things, I am also positive that our filthy furnace has nothing to do with the asthma I have been having over the last few weeks. I am positive of this largely due to my personal motto, which is "dirt you cannot see does not exist." I tried sharing my personal motto with the furnace man, but his personal motto appears to be "you need to pay me several hundred dollars to clean your furnace." I think my motto is better than his, but since he got $72 to come to my house and do nothing other than ask for more money, I may have to admit that he is cleverer than me.

Happy B-day to me!

Today is my one year blogiversary. Where are my presents?

What, you didn't get me presents? How rude!

Well ok, since I have been enjoying this blog thing for a year now, mostly thanks to you guys, I will give you a present instead. Now, I don't think this is such a great gift, but I have gotten a lot of requests for it so I'll go with it. I have to say though that if I get so much as one rude comment I will cry like a little girl and my whole blogiversary will be ruined and you don't want to do that to me, now do you?

Anyway, without further ado, I present The Belly Pic!

Continue reading "Happy B-day to me!" »

More whining, less waiting

So anyway, we have this new site, Adventures of the Cactusfish for the baby, and Chris said that he thinks he will start posting most of his baby-related thoughts there rather than his blog. I told him I would do the same, but since all I ever write about anymore is baby-related thoughts if I did that I would have to shut down this site.

So instead, I will just bitch and moan over there in addition to bitching and moaning here. If any of you were feeling like you weren't getting enough bitching and moaning, today is your lucky day.


I am twenty weeks pregnant today. Halfway. It seems like I have been pregnant forever, but it also seems like I can't possibly be halfway there already. In another twenty weeks (or so) I will have a baby, which I will be expected to take home and care for and teach things and protect and I haven't got the faintest idea how to do any of that.

I can't wait to have her, my daughter, to meet her, to see her, and I also never want her to come out. I mean for one thing, have you seen how they come out? I don't see how that is possible. And for another thing, I'm scared. I don't know what to do with a baby. My whole life will be different and I don't know how to get ready for that. I'm afraid that I will drop her, that the cats will suffocate her, that I won't be able to breastfeed, that there will be something terribly wrong with her because I ate too many cookies. I'm too scared to even think about all the things that I am scared of.

I am living in a constant state of horror and shock. I really don't know how I'm going to do this. But then, I saw her toes.

Her toes made it all worth while.

Baby got a brand new blog

Every fetus needs their own blog, right? Go check out the Lima Bean at Adventures of the Cactusfish, then come back and tell me she's pretty.

Also, I am very angry at my OB again. We went in yesterday and she felt the Lima Bean move. I think it was very rude of her to feel my baby move before I feel my baby move.


Have I told you guys about Hank? I can't believe I forgot to tell you about Hank! Hank is my new boyfriend. No, I have not replaced Clive. Trust me, if Clive showed up and offered to fill in for Hank, Hank would be kicked to the curb before you could say lickable chin dimple. However, since Clive has yet to show up on my doorstep, I'm making due with Hank.

Hank is the perfect boyfriend. He likes to cuddle, but he never puts his cold feet on you. He doesn't snore or hog the covers or drool on your pillow. He never falls asleep while you are talking to him. He never tells you that you are wrong. If you need a little more space, Hank is perfectly happy to sleep on the floor. Really, kick him right out of bed and you will never hear him complain.

Now sure, everything isn't all peaches and light. Hank isn't a very interesting conversationalist and he's a pretty lousy dresser and he is kind of short. I mean, he's a good couple inches shorter than me, so I feel like I can never wear heels when we are together. But even so, I think we can make this relationship work.

Hank. My boyfriend. My body pillow.

Misconception, limping, and totally inappropriate behavior

First, let me clear up a misconception that seems to be circulating out there on the internet. We are not expecting a little girl. Yes, we are expecting a baby girl, but all indications are that she will not be little. At the ultrasound yesterday, she measured at 14.5 cm long, which is right on target, and 11 ounces, which represents quite an over-achievement to the 7 ounce average at 19 weeks. In the words of the ultrasound tech, she's a "bruiser." Anyway, looks like she is on track to be a 10 pound monster baby, just like mommy.

On another note, I had my first middle of the night screaming leg cramp last night. It was fun! Ok, actually it hurt like an everloving bitch, but it didn't last long and I went right back to sleep, so no biggie. However, it was less fun this morning to get up and find that I could barely walk due to the incredible stiffness of said traitor calf.

Finally, I went to the gym last night after work. I was in the locker room changing, as one does, and another gym patron entered the locker room to do the same thing. We'll call her Miss What-the-heck. The locker room was empty. Literally, it was me, Miss What-the-heck, and a lady drying her hair. So, in this large and entirely empty locker room, Miss What-the-heck decided that the only appropriate place for her to change was literally 2 inches behind me. Now, I know I have a smokin' ass and the general public is clamoring to catch a peek, but how about leaving a little personal space for the half-naked pregnant girl? What the heck?

It's a...

Do you ever have one of those moments where you just can't think of the right thing to say, but know the perfect song to express what you are feeling? That's where I am, here's my song.

Yes and No

Yes, I know whether Lima Bean has little girl bits or little boy bits.
No, I'm not going to tell you right now.
Yes, I will tell you soon, but family gets this news first.
No, this does not mean I adore you guys any less.
Yes, I will post pictures.
No, I will not post them today.
Yes, Lima Bean has the cutest little toes I have ever seen in my life.
No, I did not cry. Much.

(BTW, the voting yesterday was nearly tied - 21 votes for a boy and 23 votes for a girl. I refuse to acknowledge the three votes for twins.)

Shall we play a game?

I stole this straight from my husband, but he got me into this mess so I think he owes me a post or two. First thing tomorrow morning we are having a sonogram and, provided Lima Bean doesn't turn out to be a little prude, we are hoping to get a good enough look to tell whether it is a little girl legume or a little boy legume. So, since I am tied up in meetings all day I thought I would let you entertain yourselves by guessing which it is. I'll even give you some old wives pointers:

The heart rate runs between 150 and 160 (girl).
I am carrying everything right in front (boy).
I never had a minute of morning sickness (girl).
I'm craving salty food (boy).

So. what do you think?

Bad mother

So, how bad a mother does it make me that I am just a teensy little bit freaked out that this fetus is peeing inside me?


I have a confession to make. This is hard for me, so please don't tease.

I'm wearing elastic waistband pants today. It gets worse. They are jeans. I am wearing elastic waistband jeans in public. With a long jacket that covers every hint of maternity pantness, but still. You see, my belly is, um, overachieving lately and I have a feeling the next couple of weeks are going to put me over the edge and I will be forced to wear maternity clothes full time. I decided to try a test run today by wearing secret maternity clothes and seeing how it went. Tomorrow I figure I will wear a poofy shirt with a big floppy bow right under the boobs just to get it over with.

Did anybody else feel weird about showing up at work for the first time in maternity clothes? How do you decide how much belly is enough belly to warrant a full-time pregnant lady wardrobe? And why can't I just wear yoga pants and Chris's shirt for 9 months?

Pitter Patter

You might think that I rented a doppler heartbeat monitor to reassure myself that Lima Bean is happy and well. You would be wrong, that is only a pleasant side-effect. The real reason I rented the Doppler was so I could put Lima Bean's heartbeat on the internet.

This is pretty rough, and for a while in the middle you will be treated to my very own heartbeat rather than Lima Bean's, but by the end you can hear the little sucker pretty clearly.

Now, if I could just get this kid to move.

Paranoid? Me?

I am so paranoid. How paranoid am I? I am so paranoid that I ran some google searches to see whether someone had posted something bad about me to cause my comments to totally tank over the last couple days. I didn't find anything, so I must assume that I have just been more than usually boring. Or else, whoever posted the nasty thing has already removed the post so that I would not find it in my clever searching of the internet. Or maybe people are upset because I said that I had a smokin' ass two posts in a row and everyone who does not have a smokin' ass has stormed off in a fit of jealousy. Or else, possibly some evil empire is blocking all my adoring fans from leaving comments on my site, causing said adoring fans to sit in the corner on the floor and cry bitter, bitter tears of woe. Hard to say, really.

Anyway, I realized (thanks to Alektra) that I haven't made any new rules in a while. I'm sorry about that, I have really been slacking on my job as benevolent dictator of this authoritarian regime and it is time for me to get back to work.


1. If you work for an internet company, you should know that "email" is not written "EMail". When corrected, do not try to excuse yourself by clarifying that I told you "email" was the "corporate standard," you dingbat.

2. Don't ask pregnant women how they are feeling. I guarantee you the main thing a pregnant woman is feeling is annoyed by having to tell everyone she speaks to how she is feeling.

3. Grown-up adult people with jobs that do not involve playing professional football should not be required to participate in a High Five Line. Some of them, such as me, even consider quitting their jobs as a viable alternative to participation. (Shut up. I don't want to talk about it.)

4. If you manufacture foam mattress pads which you ship encased in airtight plastic and which stink to hades, do not try to market that stink as a "newness scent."

5. No more Lost reruns. Period.

(BTW, if anybody knows who posted something nasty about me causing my comments to tank, would you please let me know so I can act all brave and mature like I'm taking the moral high ground while secretly bad-mouthing them to everyone I talk to? Thanks.)

More Random Questions

Ok, here goes. The long-awaited answers to all the other questions asked by you lovely and intelligent people. By the way, your hair looks especially nice today.

Lori asked "What is America's obsession with reality TV? Don't we get enough "reality" every day?"

This one is easy. We like to see that there are people who are dumber than we are.

Kristie asked "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

About a cord an hour.

Jeff A asked "What is the averagelifespan of an fruitfly?"

In the wild, 2 days. In my house, 2 minutes.

Amy asked : "Tell us all about your favorite handbag."

Oooohhh. tough one. I would have to go with my little red Coach bag, even though it isn't black and can't hold both my cell phone and my chapstick. However, it is entirely cute and can go to work or clubbing and goes with everything, at least in my own mind.

Groovebunny asked "When did the Brontosaurus, that I loved reading about as a child, become the Apatosaurus? And what about Duck Billed dinosaurs? Is it more Hadrosaurus (bulky lizardish)? Or ornithiscian (bird hippish)?"

Yes! And also, whatever happened to Fudge? Do you all remember Fudge?

Blue asked "If cows used cascade would they still have spots?"

Nope, they would all by jerseys which would be excellent as jerseys are clearly at the top of the entire cow species. (My dad grew up on an all-jersey dairy. Gotta be loyal.)

Kat asked "Favorite guilty pleasure or indulgence. And if you could provide us with a recipe of something you like to make...that would be great because I have no idea what I'm going to make for dinner tonight!"

My favorite indulgence is getting a facial. My favorite guilty pleasure is smoking. (Don't even start, I'm not smoking now.) One of my favorite recipes:

Get some pasta
Get some vegetables
Get an obscene amount of parmesan cheese
Cook as appropriate and combine
Serve with French bread and excellent white wine (once again, save it, I'm not drinking either)

Kelley asked "What kind of books do you like to read?"

Anything. Sorry for the cop-out answer, but it is the truth.

Etherian asked "Tell me a secret, even if it's a made up one, about something outrageous you did, but never told hubby about."

My first week of college, my roommate and I were a little too drunk for our own good and went streaking through the cafeteria. In the middle of lunch.

Nina asked "Why do we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway?
If a dog barks in the woods and there is no human to scold him is he still bad?
If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat?
Ever stop to think...and forget to start again?"

Wow, my head hurts. I think I need to go lie down.

Jon in Michigan asked "How about something terribly non-liberal and political? Free government assault weapons for the poor?"

How about just using the assault weapons to shoot the poor? Think of all the money we would save on welfare.

Wendy asked "When you were little what did you want to be when you grew up?"

An astronaut.

Coleen asked "Write about the best meal you ever cooked just for yourself."

See's Candy and a bottle of red wine.

B asked "We all agree that I'm rad. But my question to you is: just how rad am I?"

You are so rad that I have agreed to meet you in actual person and allow you to bask in my presence.

Jenorama asked "Describe one of your best, memorable meals-- the food, the company, the location, everything."

September 2003, near St. Malo, France. We were staying in a small, family owned hotel with a view across the bay to Mont-St-Michel. My husband, mother-in-law and I ate in the hotel restaurant (my father-in-law unfortunately was ill and asleep upstairs). I had soup, "little fish from the bay," mashed potatoes, cheese, and dessert. I can't describe the food in detail because I'm just not that kind of girl, but it was excellent with a beautiful setting and great company.

Miss March

Patricia suggested it, and Autumn provided the honest to goodness questions, so here we go.

My bio in the format of a Playboy Playmate of the Month.

Name: Beth Fish
Bust, Waist, Hip: None to speak of, round as a beachball, when they say "hip" they really mean "ass," I have a smokin' ass.
Height, Weight: 5'6" and pregnant so no way in hell
Birthdate, Birthplace: 11/14/74 Los Angeles, CA
Ambitions: To not kill my unborn child by sleeping the wrong way, to insure that my cat Callie is immortal because I could not deal otherwise, and to someday find a job that challenges more than my patience. Oh, and world peace.
Turn-ons: Clive Owen, someone rubbing my head, my husband telling me I look nice (which he should do much more of, hint hint), and anything to do with the side of my neck which usually causes me to fall down, in a good way.
Turn-offs: Men who yell at you on the street (does that ever work?), parsnips, not being able to drink for 9 months (ok, 8 months), and pants that are either four inches too long of half an inch too short for my legs.
You can win me over with: Oatmeal cookies and humor.
My idea of fun: Going out. Anywhere. I just like to go out.
Favorite movie: The Princess Bride
Some random personalized question: The best random personalized question for me would be "Why are you such a bitch?" The answer is "Because I can be and you know you love it so bite me."

Come on now, you know you all want to do it.

Yay, topics!

Man, I love the internets. All I have to do is ask and I get posting material without having to actually think for myself.

Cassie-b asked, "What is your favorite animal?"

I think it would be easier to do this in reverse. I hate horses. Now, before all you horse lovers get up in a snit, let me clarify that horses fill my soul with complete, abject terror such that I can barely stand in their presence. Therefore, back off. I am not a dog person because I am highly allergic and three minutes around a dog is generally enough to make me very ill. I do have a sort of long-distance appreciation for big dogs. Any dog that can fit in a purse makes me twitch. Dogs that can fit in a purse wearing their own little outfits? Somebody really needs a hobby. Finally, I don't like any animal in my house that is not there by my express invitation, and I am not thrilled by bugs of any sort invading my personal space.

Other than that, I really like animals. My favorite specific animals are my own cats, of course. My favorites in general are cats of any variety, ducks, bears, jersey cows, frogs, turtles and Tigger.

Chris self-servingly asked, "How did you land such an astonishingly cool husband? And is it true he's really a superhero? If so, which one?"

So Part I: Trickery and treachery. Oh, and putting out.

What, seriously? I can't answer this question. I don't know. I can tell you why I picked and stuck with him, but I have no idea why he picked and stuck with me. It may have something to do with my smokin' hot ass, but I'm just guessing here. Basically, we are kindred in ways I cannot describe (in the similar in quality or character sense, not in the related by blood sense because ew).

Part II: Guitarman, naturally. Faster than a speeding riff. Able to leap tall amps in a single bound.

Now, does anybody have a Playboy lying around? I need it to answer one of the other questions I got yesterday. If you do have one, you can email me if you are not comfortable leaving a comment and letting the whole internet know. (Although really, it's just Playboy. It isn't like I'm asking who has a copy of Deviant Donkey Sex.) (Man, I'm going to love the hits off this one.)

Whee. ennui

People, I am so bored with myself today. I mean honestly, could I talk about something other than my fetus for five seconds? Nope, no can do. So I am turning to you, dear internet, to help me out. Would you please ask me a question or give me a topic so I can put something on this site that has nothing to do with the parasite in my belly? Pretty please with cookies on top?

This is really what we talk about

Last night, Chris and I had a rather lengthy conversation about the fact that our cat Callie, over there on the right, would make a really excellent pimp hat. Picture it - her tail would be like the feather. Of course, we also spent a few minutes demonstrating to each other how exactly such a thing would work. I think Callie enjoyed it even less than the time I put my fetal heartbeat monitor on her bald spot to see what her purr sounded like on Doppler.

Thank goodness we are going to have a child to mess with and finally give the cats a break.

Moment of Truth

I look pregnant today.

Also, I might have felt the Lima Bean move last night, or it might have been the two frosted oatmeal cookies I ate. Hard to tell, really.