My ovaries name's are Benedict and Arnold.

As in, named after Benedict Arnold, worst traitor in American history? Yep, those are my ovaries. Now usually my ovaries and I have a pretty nice relationship; they do their thing and I do mine, we were good. But lately they've been pitching a full scale revolt. Lately they've been doing this thing when I see a baby or small child (mind you this only happens when they are being well behaved, my twinging ovaries are sneaky like ninjas and they know better than to try this shit when a kid isn't on their best behavior) and the ovaries start twinging and going "Aw hey look isn't that cute? Ya know, you could have one of those! It'll be sweet and warm and cuddly and call you mama.. " and suddenly my brain, the part that knows that a baby will also scream and puke and be very needy and live with me in my in-laws house, starts to forget all those things and turns to useless baby-filled mush. And then? That's where I start throwing punches. Because you see I've tried reasoning with them. Explaining very gently how yes babies are very lovely and I would like one but now is just not the time, thank you very much. Now be quiet. That didn't work so I had to escalate. It may seem drastic to start punching oneself in the ovaries in the middle of IKEA but I'm telling you, there is no other way. I can not lose this fight! And now my husband is on my shit list too. Because as we were shopping yesterday with my 7 month old cousin he actually said, out loud - where my ovaries could hear him- "I'd like one of these of my own" and my ovaries cheered, they had bells and whistles and a fucking marching band and not even the punches would rain on their parade. So if anyone knows where I can pick up some of these...

I'd be really thankful.

"You're going to wear Muffin Boots in New York?"

Yesterday my mother and I decided that we hadn't quite gotten our fill of Aiming Low in Boston. Then again, can you ever really get your fill of free food, swag, cool electronics and amazing bloggers? I think not.

Me and Brittany from Barefoot Foodie. I squeed like an asshole when I met her for the first time in Boston. She was lovely and didn't acknowledge how awkward I was :D

Motherbumper looks frightened but I don't think she was scared of my mom. ;)

Mom and Shauna. Shauna's vagina has super powers. I think her whole body does actually because she looks about 20 years younger than she actually is.

Godzilla! Oh wait. taht's just me next to two cute little ladies. (Like my Bra Strap? Hel-lo Aiming Low!)

That's better.
My mom and Angela who was with HP and was so super helpful with an issue my mom had with her printer.

Did I mention the HP products were amazing? Touch Screen computers are so much fun and I'm pretty sure I'll die if I someone doesn't buy me this. It does everything and then some and if it would do the laundry and fix my car, I might consider replacing my husband.

So anyway, we grabbed my aunt and started our drive down to NYC and pulled up to the hotel (which was right in Times Square -Awesome!) about 4 hours later. The event was lovely yadda yadda yadda, Boston was better in my opinion, but I don't regret it at all.

That isn't what this post is about though. This post is about what happened after the party. We opted to spend some time walking around Time's Square being touristy.I look pregnant, I know. I'm so not pregnant. That shirt is just evil.

See? Nothing there but shirt. (And maybe some pudge)
It was great. There were huge crowds of people willing to push you, step on you and call you names, people dressed up like Spiderman, Elmo(x2 and Ew they were dirty and furry) and Batman, and of course the peddlers. it's simply amazing how every street corner merchant manages to have real designer handbags for only $20! And I can't forget the crazies, those who only come out after midnight such as make-up man ( he could have given RuPaul a run for his money) Biking down the street singing at the top of his lungs man and the Loudly Mumbling Watch Peddler who called us "whiteys." Good observations, Sir! After a few blocks though, the heels that had seemed like a great idea at 8am were about to push me over the edge. I checked every kitschy tourist store we passed for some flip flops but it was 50 degrees and it just wasn't happening. So we went into Walgreen's in a last ditch attempt and searched all three floors (so weird, right?) For something, anything to help my aching feet. All we could find were slippers. I know, I know, God effing help me, I know. It is so disgusting to wear slippers in Time's Square. But I was in so much pain and in my defense they have rubber soles. Said slippers were of the variety that my Aunt has not so lovingly deemed "Muffin Boots" These are the original Muffin Boots. I think mine are a bit more stylish. Their style, and not the ick factor of slippers in New York was the big catch up for my Aunt. "Muffin Boots? New York is like the fashion capitol (I reminded her of LA) of the country and you're going to wear Muffin Boots." I however, was too busy being skeeved out by the fact that I could feel every little texture in the pavement to worry about offending fashion sensibilities. Well, that and being paranoid that the rubber bottoms would fail me and my feet would become soaked from what my mother and Aunt lovingly started calling "Piss Puddles." Did I mention it poured in NYC yesterday? There was a lot of wet going on. However, they seemed to hold up and they didn't hurt me so I loved them.I was kinda proud of them, they stepped up to the job and tackled Time's Square head on.

There was some revenge for my aunt though, because while we were eyeing some jewelry she had a big drop of "Piss Water" splash on her from above. Isn't that face priceless? Karma's a Bitch. Besides, I was apparently not the only one done with heels.
I hope she had some slippers.



P.S. As we were walking back to the Sheraton, we passed a store with flip-flops. ::headdesk::
P.P.S. The Yankees Lost. It was the finishing touch on our lovely night.

Inspired by Aiming Low. It's not the first time...

It may not be the first time I've been inspired by the wonderful bloggers over at Aiming Low but it's the first time that the inspiration hasn't been something along the lines of "Ooh She's right cupcakes sound amazing right now" or "Good Idea, I think I won't bother getting dressed today either." No, shockingly the ladies of Aiming Low have actually inspired me to push myself. I know, it's totally against their mantra, let me explain. I've tried many times to be a good blogger and keep it going but I never had any success. But being around all the bloggers has pushed me to just do it. It doesn't matter if I forget or "forget" to blog for two weeks, just do it anyway. So you see even though they inspired me to get off my ass (metaphorically speaking of course, I'm quite happy sitting on my ass while I blog) and do it, they also lowered the bar for doing so. And that is what Aiming Low is all about.

I blog to hear myself talk..

I'm so bad at blogging but I really enjoy it. When I remember to do it anyway.

January 20, 2009

This is a special day for sure. Even more special for me than the rest of the world because not only is it Inauguration day it is my One Year Anniversary! Tonight hubby and I will go out to eat and celebrate but He's in class this morning and I'm all about watching the goings on in DC. I didn't vote for Obama but I'm glad he won. I think if he had not it would have been bad to epic proportions. My not voting for him had more to do with my dislike of our two party system and the state I live in. I think Barack Obama is a good man and I think he is going to be good for America. I think if he does nothing else during his presidency he has done wonders for our country just by being elected. He is a powerful speaker and I hope that with some help from God he'll be able to work some of the miracles America needs. The best anniversary present I could ever receive is to have George W. Bush out of office and replace by someone that actually presents the country with hope for the future.

Picture?

I'm going back and forth on whether or not to put up a picture of myself. I have very good reasons for this that all stem from me being kinda bitchy.

Not in the "I won't post a picture because I'm better than you" bitch way but in the "I'm evil and judge people and decide whether I like them based on how they look" sort of way. And I don't particularly like it when people do that to me. CCD taught me better, I know "treat others the way you want to be treated" and it's times like this that being judgmental comes around to bite you in the ass. Don't get me wrong I won't not speak to someone or something it's just a first impression.

However, I suppose it's only fair that I subject myself to it, everyone else has. But I'll have you know, I'm picking a picture where I look damn good. Or maybe I'll pick one where I don't look so good so that any picture I post later look extra good. But I'm not telling which. it's for your own good. That way if I pick a wicked good one and you still think I'm fugly you can have hope that I picked a bad one and you're not wasting your time reading some ugly chicks blog. Decisions, decisions.

A change of ... 'ness?

I had such grand plans of how this was going to be my own little private diary and I'd write everything I did every day so I could look back on it years later and ... do something, I don't know reminisce and laugh at my silly little past self as I sip martinis.

That, however, sucked. There's no way I can bring myself to type out all the brain numbingly dull crap I do everyday. So instead this will be a regular blog. I won't say an average blog because while my life isn't very interesting and I don't have children to spice it up, I also don't suck as bad as most people. Usually. I hope.

Point here being- Don't bother going and reading previous posts unless you're looking for a way to put yourself into a catatonic state. The only interesting part of the posts would be the pictures...which I never got around to adding in. :)