Thursday, April 28, 2011

and then jparks died of embarrassment

me: What's the male version of an OB? Like a balls doctor?
jparks: I don't know.
me: Proctologist? Is that it?
jparks: God no, that's the other end! Don't make me an appointment with a proctologist! They stick their finger up your butt!

I ended up having to call his mom to find out the answer because there was no way in hell I was Googling "balls doctor." Who the hell knows what kind of weird fetish stuff that search would have returned.

Monday, April 25, 2011

best friends forever. Or at least for a day.

Oh friends, I know I'm not the first person in the history of the world to feel this way but pregnancy is kicking my ass. Last week I went in for my normal OB appointment and surprise! The high blood pressure had finally hit which meant I got to drag out my best friend from my other pregnancy.
My enemy and I meet again

Me and that blood pressure cuff have been tight for the past week and I've watched my numbers shoot up and down and laughed over how there is seriously no consistency with my blood pressure. Dinner of fried foods? Low numbers in the morning. Dinner of baby carrots? Numbers so high that Cuffy's screen gives me a message that reads "How are you not dead?" I don't know Cuffy, I guess it takes more than some high blood pressure to knock me down. Just ask John Besh, I'm unstoppable!

I was told last Monday to take it easy and try to rest before my follow up appointment today. Naturally I took that to mean "take a weekend trip to New Orleans for a wedding" because nothing is as relaxing and restful as an 8.5 hour car trip with Truman and jparks. We arrived in NOLA on Wednesday and jparks and I promptly had such a blow out that I had a nose bleed by the end of it. Did you know that you could get so mad that your nose would bleed because I had no clue this was a possibility. Being married to jparks has really taught me so many things.

We drove back to Austin yesterday and I had my followup appointment today where I was introduced to my new best friends, the pee jug and porta toilet. Cuffy, you've been replaced for at least the next 24 hours. It seems that finding a very tiny, almost nonexistent, amount of protein in my urine combined with the high blood pressure has earned me a 24 hour urine collection for testing and pee jug and porta toilets are my tools for this task.

The best part is that pee jug gets to live in my fridge!

Who doesn't want a jug of pee stocked right next to their spray can of pancake batter? No one, that's who!

Anyway. Wish me luck collecting my pee for the next 24 hours and then let's all hope my tests come back fine and my blood pressure evens out a little bit so I can avoid bed rest for the remainder of this pregnancy.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

I'm still here despite John Besh's efforts

This past weekend I was in New Orleans and John Besh tried to kill me. No really, he did. Obviously he didn't succeed as I'm here typing this and not a ghost haunting jparks (that's my plan if I die first, to haunt him so he can't sleep to make up for the fact that he coughs all damn night. Also haunting him should keep the sluts from taking hold and keep my kids safe from having a crappy stepmom) but Mr. Besh did succeed at putting me into a short term coma for most of Saturday. Seriously, I was passed out cold for about 19 of that day's 24 hours.

It started before Besh came into my day when I accidentally overslept and missed breakfast along with the first panels of the day. By the time I managed to get myself up and moving it was time to head over to Domenica for the kitchen tour. Once our group arrived that wiley bastard greeted us with bellinis and limoncello and then showed us his meat.


He's pretty proud of his meat, as he should be, it all looked incredible. Also incredible was the limoncello which he makes in house in a process that appeared to be a thousand times simpler than I would expect. Also, the one sip I took of the limoncello was so awesome that I'm ready to make the drive back to NOLA as soon as I pop out this kid. Damn you Besh!

After a quick tour through the bar and kitchen we were taken to a private dining room for a cooking demo and that's when Besh set his sights on my demise. First he had a charcuterie board delivered to each table.


Then the food demo started and the plates of food being deposited in front of us didn't stop.


Missing from that picture is the bowl of red beans and rice with pork roast. Also a chocolate cookie.

At the time I was upset that I wasn't able to choke down all that food but now I see that leaving food on my plate is the only reason I'm not dead. About 30 minutes after eating I felt like keeping my eyes open wasn't an option and I started debating if it would be rude to ditch the group to head back to the hotel. I managed to force myself to stay awake long enough to get my copy of My New Orleans signed and possibly tell John Besh that I was pregnant and drinking, even though that was not true. I'm not sure what I was thinking, maybe that I was making a joke that made no sense and made me sound like a lush once it crossed my lips? Yup, that's got to be it. I love making a good first impression! But whatever, he had already poisoned me by that point so I'm sure he expected me to make no sense. Hell, I was just confirming that his plan was on track. Death to the short girl that had never done him wrong!

After that I headed back to my hotel room where I promptly passed out. I had the foresight to set an alarm so I would be awake in time for dinner and the closing night cocktail parties but that sadly didn't work. Yes the alarm went off, but I somehow managed to bury my phone under a mound of pillows to muffle it, all while remaining asleep. When I finally woke up hours later I noticed that not only had I missed the parties but I had also apparently answered a phone call from jparks that I had no recollection of. I managed to stay awake long enough to watch the best SNL digital short, SHOTS!, and then passed back out. I stayed asleep until the next morning when my alarm went off again alerting me that I needed to pack my stuff up and vacate the hotel room before checkout so housekeeping wouldn't have to call security to have my lifeless body removed.

I have no idea what Besh slipped me but holy hell, it nearly killed me. Good thing I did all that pot in high school to prepare my system for surprise drug attacks. You'll have to try harder next time Besh. Plus now I know to make jparks sample anything that comes from your kitchen before I take a bite. Be warned Beshie, I'm on guard now! Bring it!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

I am one whiny hermit crab

Last August I went to NYC for BlogHer and made the decision to not have a roommate. It was my first time away from Truman and I figured a roommate might cut into my glorious, glorious sleeptime. Plus, at BlogHer I had a whole circle of friends attending that I knew I could cling to and force into talking to me. I had no need for new people! I could continue to live my sadly un-social life! Yay for being a hermit.

Jump ahead to today and I'm at another blogging conference and once again I am roommate-less, the difference is that this time it wasn't 100% by choice. Mom 2.0 is a smaller conference so less people in my already tiny social circle are attending. This means that I don't have many friends here so I decided that I should bite the bullet and get a roommate because, in my head, a roommate is a built in friend. I immediately found someone to bunk with but that fell through a few weeks ago. I debated finding another roommate but the fear of having to allow a total stranger to see me in my pajamas out weighted the fear of not having any friends to sit with at lunch and I stopped looking. Plus I figured since jparks had just gone to Iceland while I moved to a new house I deserved a whole hotel room to myself.

So here I am in my king sized bed at the Ritz, partially regretting my roommate-less status and partially enjoying it as I spread my toiletries all over the bathroom and hog all the clothes hangers in the closet. Tomorrow more people start to arrive and the few that I know or that Kristin, acting as my pimp, introduced to me via twitter are in that group. Everyone keep your fingers crossed that I don't end up sitting at a table by myself during meals, having flashbacks to 5th grade when I was forced to eat in my classroom because I had no friends. (Shut up, I was at a new school and I had an awful perm) The only upside to this situation is that if I end up succumbing to my social awkwardness and have no friends, at least I'm on my territory in New Orleans. I know I can always retreat to my grandmother's house to watch hours and hours of Mystery Diagnosis. Oh god, is it any wonder why I have so few friends?

Unrelated to anything else in this post, I would like to point out that if you are viewing this in a reader you should click through to see the new site design. It's still a work in progress, with some pages mostly blank, but new! shiny! exciting!