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I CANNOT stop looking at this freakshow DOG.


It might be hard to tell in this photo, but those are some HUGE-ass guns on that boat flanking a Seattle ferry. Apparently the coast guard escort is standard anti-terrorist procedure right now (since the London attacks, maybe?).

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

What happened last night? I....I SLEPT. For hours on end! I only got up to pee maybe four times! My god, I feel like a new woman. 

See, ever since the first week of July, this has been my nightly routine:

11:00: Take long, warm bath, since cannot have enormous shot of Nyquil.
11:20: Settle into bed with book. 
11:45: Eyes droopy. Optimistically, turn off lights. Spend several minutes arranging three separate pillows for maximum comfort.
12:01: Get up. Pee.
12:05: Re-arrange pillows. Untie bedsheets from knotted mass around ankles. 
12:30: Left side becoming uncomfortable. Switch to right side. Re-arrange pillows. Untie bedsheets. 
12:32: Get up. Pee. 
12:36: Re-arrange pillows. Fuck the bedsheets, it's hot.
12:42: Well, someone's awake. Internal belly wiggling commences.
1:03: So thirsty. Mouth so dry
1:04: Take large gulp from bedside water glass.
1:05: Get up. Pee.
1:08: Re-arrange pillows. Shove snoring husband with foot, "accidentally".
1:14: Jimmy leg.
1:48: Jimmy leg.
2:05: Jimmy leg.
2:06: Leap from bed, tossing back covers. Stomp around house in useless attempt to walk off jimmy leg. 
2:17: Re-arrange pillows. Untie bedsheets. 
2:18: Get up. Pee.
2:19: Fetus is annoyed. Kicking commences.
2:21: Wander forlornly back into living room. Sit at dining room table and chug large glass of milk. Flip on TiVo, start watching "Cribs".
2:45: "Cribs" worst show known to mankind. Who are these jackasses, and why are they all obsessed with the movie "Scarface"?  Turn off lights, shuffle back to bed.
2:47: Re-arrange pillows. Thrash bedsheets down around feet.
2:52: Gah. So HOT. Flap tank top wildly.
3:01: Get up. Pee.
3:03: Re-arrange pillows.
3:05: Ow.
3:08: Burrrp.
3:09: OW.
3:10: Get up. Devour 3 tropical fruit flavored Tums. Might as well pee, too.
3:12: Throat burning from digestive juices. Drink enormous glass of water.
3:13: Re-arrange pillows.
3:15: Get up. Pee. DAMMIT.
3:17: Re-arrange pillows. Flop head heavily onto bed, sigh loudly. Husband deaf and snoring. Dog also snoring. Cat snoring. No one cares. Snivel quietly to self. 
3:28: So thirsty.
3:29: Resist water glass. However, at mere thought of water: Get up. Pee.
3:32: Re-arrange pillows.
3:45: Jimmy leg. 
3:49: Jimmy leg.
3:52: Fetus is ANGRY. Lord of the Dance-style foot movements are trained on lower right ribcage.
4:14: Ow. Burp. OW.
4:20: Get up. Eat fourth Tums. Pee. 
4:23: Jesus...so tired......
7:01: Motherfucker.

Sadly, I am not exaggerating. Like, at all. 

Obviously, I need to repeat my actions of last night exactly. Which is good, because in addition to a nice evening walk, yesterday's activities included consuming the following gourmet dessert:


• Take several round mints, the kind that come in individual plastic wrappers. Smash them with a mallet.
• Scoop a few blops of vanilla ice cream into a bowl (or, if all your bowls are currently on the floor of your kitchen because you haven't run the dishwasher in ages and they've all been "pre-rinsed" by a dog, use a plastic beer keg cup).
• Tip the smashed-up mints into the ice cream and stir.
• Surprise! You forgot to remove the wrappers. 

As god is my witness, if eating that every single night until I give birth is what it will take to get some rest, I will do it. I will embrace that sacrifice, people.

Also, next time, I may take out the plastic first. 


32-week belly shot! With extra VEINS! (For even more belly, should you wish for such a thing, there's also this.)

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