Jan
15
A long-ass time ago when I was still very optimistic about exercising throughout this entire pregnancy (pardon me while I issue a short, bitter, Edna Krabappel-esque laugh, here: HA!) I bought this goofy Denise Austin workout video, then promptly filed it with our other DVDs and forgot about it. Because I had some very important things to do over the next several months, like seeing whether or not I could eat a whole jar of Claussen dill pickle spears at a time.
I tried it out last night, though, after trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position to sit in that didn’t send shooting sciatic pains through my hips or trigger the increasingly hyper Jimmy Leg too much. I finally decided that the only relief I’d get would be through some body movement, and while this made JB very hopeful that it might be BIDNESS TIME, if you know what I mean and I think you do, I informed him that I felt exactly as sexy as a beached manatee, and did he want to get busy with a beached manatee? (JB: “Beggars can’t be choosers.” Me: “Yeah, well if wishes was horses we’d all be eatin’ steak.”)
At first I tried to follow along with an Inhale show, but I quickly discovered that intense non-prenatal yoga isn’t so great when you haven’t been exercising and you’re shaped like a biological practical joke. That whole rapid-fire vinyasa business isn’t designed for people who take ten minutes to gruntingly heave themselves up off the floor, you know?
So I dug up the Denise Austin video and gave it a shot, and it was . . . it was okay. Actually, I felt a little ashamed during the “workout” (really just some extremely low-impact stretching and toning, at least during the 3rd trimester section) because 1) it was so incredibly wussy and yet I felt like it was just right for me, and 2) Denise Austin is relentlessly perky and cheesy and keeps saying things like “Making your body so strong for baby” and repeating the marketing bullet points from her DVD (“Fit and firm throughout your pregnancy!”). She kind of talks to the camera like she’s talking to a dog, which gets a little old (“Good job, you are doing sooooo well, doesn’t that feel so good?”). Power-peppy aggro-cheerleader Chalene Johnston or scary Billy Blanks (“COUNT IT! COUNT IT!”) would be more fun.
However, I slept halfway decently last night for the first time in I don’t know how long. So maybe there’s something to this whole “exercise is good for you even when you’re a beached manatee” theory I keep hearing about. Tonight I’m going to try out a prenatal yoga video I rented from Amazon Unbox (did you know you can download videos straight to your TiVo from there? The future is NOW!), so I’m hopeful that doing some ongoing exercise in some shape or form (JB: “I’ve got your shape and form right chere“) will continue to help reduce some of my late-night restlessness. Because there is only so much pacing a person can do before their husband will suddenly shriek to stop it, stop it, STOP IT BEFORE THE BABY FALLS OUT.
In other baby-related news, BabyCenter has released their Top Baby Names of 2007 list and while Smalltopus’s name hasn’t been on any previous Most Popular lists, it is now. I will be mean and tease-y and give you a hint by saying that it’s in the top 40 names, but remember, I’m not telling yet because I want that particular data point to be revealed alongside a photo of a helpless pathetic newborn so people are less tempted to tell me what a fucking suck-ass name we chose. Anyway, I guess it’s more prevalent than I had suspected, but at least it’s a popular boy’s name, unlike Riley — #76 on the boy’s list, #20 on the GIRL’S. Crap.
Jan
14
Naturally, after all my scurrying around like a chicken with its head partially detached from a bad axe blow leaving the gory wound to geyser steady pulses of blood into the air while the body runs hither and yon cut off, things have already gone to hell with regards to Workplace’s booth at the Macworld Expo this week. This is why I hate tradeshows, or any event that requires multiple balls to be thrown in the air and successfully caught by multiple, disassociated entities. Something always take a big greasy dump on the dance floor, no matter how many faxes you send or voicemails you leave. HATE.
The idea that some people actually enjoy events management and sometimes specialize in horrifying things like weddings totally blows my mind. Man, if I had to be even partially responsible for someone’s wedding going off without a . . . well, obviously with a hitch, but without any major problems, I’d flee the country. Spraying a trail of terrified urine behind me like an unbalanced Sheltie.
At any rate, this may not be my finest hour to say a temporary farewell from Workplace (always leave them with a bad taste in their mouth, that’s apparently MY motto!) but the time for doing so is looming. I think next week will be my last, and the final week of the month I’ll reserve for trying to get some R&R before Smalltopus arrives on the 4th. Maybe cook some casseroles. Well, maybe learn how to cook casseroles first, and then—ah, fuck it, who am I kidding: the only thing I’m likely to produce from the kitchen is more cookies, which we will then eat too quickly to freeze for later.
(Side note: I gave Riley part of a brownie the other day for the first time, and I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of being so utterly delighted by someone else’s facial expression. He put it in his mouth, chewed for a moment thoughtfully, and then it was as though a rich beam of joyful sunlight spread over his entire face and shone out his eyesockets. “Mmmm!” he said, with pure enjoyment. “Chocwate!” Yes, my boy, and I’m proud to see that you are in fact your mother’s son after all.)
In other news, I love my Personalized Google Homepage but I think it’s time to take the CNN.com headline feeds right the hell off of there. CNN loves to come up with provocative headlines and I think they’ve got an entire creative team working on how many awful ways they can sum up the ongoing search for bodies in that horrible unthinkable murder case in Alabama. Can the words “tossed from bridge” be worked in there? Or does “thrown from bridge” sound even worse? How about “tiny corpses”, have we used that yet? OH GOD CNN STOP IT. I don’t want to know any more about that story unless 1) a child has been found alive, or 2) the father has been sentenced to 59378 consecutive years of being ass-raped on an hourly basis by an entire prison’s worth of sadist disease-infested inmates with ten-foot-long spiked penises.
Uh, moving on from that subject, how about a picture of The Boys, hanging out in this giant crazy tent thing that has taken over our living room:
Riley: “SHHHH. Riwwy hiding.”
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