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Tunnel of Love, Hilma Wolitzer

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"Okay,Steve...just keep cool..."


JB keeps the world safe from deadly clay pigeons.

Monday, March 21, 2005

You have to admire a woman who can throw a great karaoke party, you know? With Twinkie sushi, even. Big pimp hands to Chiara, whose Saturday night shindig was super fun and, best of all, did not involve anyone actually asking ME to perform karaoke, which was a good thing for all involved, not to mention any innocent neighborhood dogs and/or fine glassware.

Our friend Amy was there with her baby Charlie, who I got to HOLD. In my ARMS. My impending maternal skills were pretty much limited to not dropping him in the salsa, but it was awesome and I like to think we bonded, just a little bit.

Me: "Hey, Charlie, how YOU doin'?"
Charlie: *produces wee geyser of barf*
Me (panicking slightly): "Um, Amy?"

Actually, it was my first experience with baby spitup, and as someone who had to clean up DOG PUKE on the carpet this Sunday afternoon, I am here to say it's not that bad. It's just milk, only in reverse. Way less gross than, say, those little beard hairs that JB leaves all over the bathroom sink after he shaves.

Aw, I just got verklempt, thinking about JB and his grotacious beard hairs. He's only been gone two days but the house is so lonely without him. I crawled into bed around 8:30 last night, just because I couldn't take the gloom any longer.

I did manage to TiVo "Spring Break Shark Attack" before succumbing to my ennui, though. If you should wonder what wacky hijinks this swingin' bachelorette will be up to tonight, the answer is "watching chicks in bikinis getting eaten by sharks". Also, there will be cheese-flavored Pirate's Booty.


I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for Chiara's party. This is partially because nothing in my damn closet fits me any more, fucking AAARGH, but also because I am a socially anxious freak and firmly believe that if I look like a dork everyone will point, whisper, and possibly throw stones. Which does nothing to explain why, less than five minutes after arriving, I grabbed Chiara's anatomically correct (well, to my eye, anyway. I didn't give it a pelvic exam or anything) stuffed octopus and proceeded to loudly reenact a scene from Alien by smashing it against my face and yelling "Get it off me! Oh jesus god, get it off me!".

Yeah, good thing I didn't wear anything that made me look stupid, or anything.


I am 14 weeks along this week. It's insane how fast time is flying by; as much as I've learned and experienced, I still feel like I just peed on that stick a few days ago (I don't think I have told you the loving words I chose when I told JB about this precious new change in our lives: "Hey, you knocked me up, you dick!" Obviously, I am the master of the tender moment). I catch myself wishing that I'd get to the next milestone sooner - feeling the baby kick, learning the sex - and I have to remind myself that this period will be over all too soon. It's hard to believe, but someday it'll just be a blip on my memory. Hey, remember that one time when I was all pregnant and shit? I feel the strangest combination of wanting to fast-forward this movie, and hit pause at the same time.

I would also like to peek into the future of my girth, please. On April 8, I am going to Tokyo for a week on business, and something tells me my typical Old Navy fare isn't going to cut it. I need to buy some clothes that will 1) be appropriate for meetings (ie, at least semi-formal attire), 2) be comfortable enough to wear all day, and 3) not be too horrendously expensive, as I'll be buying them in a size that won't fit for long, and will hopefully be too big at some point post-birth. I don't know if I'll be about the same circumference at 17 weeks that I am right now, or if I'll need a business muumuu, or what. Any ideas?

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