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Things Your Asshole Friends Don’t Tell You About Pregnancy Symptoms

In an attempt to get our house ready for a tiny human that will be arriving in October, I took a couple much needed days off work. At 19 weeks pregnant, I have the energy to get shit done and wanted to take advantage before that disappears along with my waistline.

A few hours into my de-junking project I got bored and ran to the grocery store to get that task out of the way. I raced through Harmons throwing basically anything vegetarian with protein into my cart and headed to the check-out line. Normally the cashiers are uber friendly, so it was really odd that the cashier barely spoke to me. The only time she looked up at me, she stared at me like she’d seen a ghost.

When I reached my car I checked the mirror to get apply Chapstick to my badly chapped lips, and noticed something absolutely disgusting. My entire mouth was covered in blood. I’m talking nasty vampire scene of blood dripping from my teeth.

SO FUCKING GROSS.

Yeah, so bleeding gums are apparently yet another pregnancy symptom no one bothered to tell me about. This baby girl had better be worth it. OR ELSE.

Procreation, It Happens

procreation

Pregnancy is so goddamn weird. And I’m not even talking about the weirdness that is happening to my body, but rather how people react.

The most common reaction comes from my family to my husband. “Chris, we are just SO VERY proud of you.” Um, proud of him… for what exactly? Jizzing in their daughter/sister/granddaughter?

Maybe it’s normal to tell an expectant father you’re proud of him, but to me it sounds so odd. How about being proud of me? I’m the one actually growing our daughter, and I’d like a parade… or at least a trophy.

If that happens will someone please wake me up, because I may possibly nap through it.

The Sleeping Habits (or lack thereof) of Rosie Finlinson (aka Asshole Puppy)

Saturday night Chris and I went to a friend’s house for the evening, where he regaled us with Rosie Finlinson stories.

She’s absolutely the worst dog at night; if she’s on the floor she wants in bed with us. If she’s in bed with us, she wants us awake and does everything she can to make it happen.

In hopes of getting our friends to truly understand what we deal with each night, we act out the scene.

You really have to watch this video to feel our pain.

Chris Deserves a Trophy

Chris knew what he was getting himself into by marrying me. We’d been friends for a few years before dating, and we lived together for months before he proposed. Yet sometimes I can’t help but wonder if he’s really ready for a lifetime of my shit.

Case in point, we were talking about technology and entertainment a few days ago when he said, “I can’t believe Blockbuster is still around. How is that possible?” To which I replied, “I can’t believe I haven’t had sex with Wolf Blitzer yet.”

Well, maybe he IS ready for a lifetime of my shit because now that I think about it, my comment didn’t phase him and he continued talking about technology, and probably space. I’m not so sure, because I was too busy wondering what kind of stamina Wolf had to actually listen to him.

Finding My Mojo

This blog holds so many dating/relationship stories, and I’m so glad I have it. Sadly it doesn’t chronicle anything from my most recent relationship. The relationship that matters the most…. with Chris, you know that guy I MARRIED!

I was so busy falling madly in love, that I sort of forgot to write everything down. Sure there are tweets and Facebook updates, but that’s not the same. Oh and there’s our wedding blog, but that doesn’t begin to cover the awesomeness that was dating Chris.

So now, I am forcing myself to start blogging again. Who cares that I lost my creative mojo, it’s time to start writing again. I’ll find my mojo… or I won’t, either way I want to remember life shit.

Love & Clutter

This handsome man spills coffee grounds all over my kitchen counter and leaves empty coffee cups everywhere. And yet, I couldn’t be happier. Why didn’t you people tell me love was so grand?!

Once Upon a Time…

I helped a boy find a pug.

Two years later, the same boy found me.

The rest of the story? I can’t wait to find out.

Face-Kicking Anonymous

On Friday, the receptionist walked into my office and handed me these:

My stomach sank as I read “From: You’ll never know.” I hate anonymous gifts almost as much as I hate no gifts at all. I ripped open the card and read further:

I see you everywhere. I’ve been watching you and reading everything you write for years. I love you! XOXOX, Your Secret Admirer

My stomach felt a little queasy and the following thoughts sped through my mind: What the fresh hell? Pretty flowers, though. Shit, how does this person know I love sunflowers and daisies? Ugg, what else do they know about me? Which brother should I ask to sleep on my couch tonight in case someone tries to murder me? Do I choose the brother I want to spend my last moments with, or do I choose the one with the most free time. Dammit! I wonder if I could find a Hello Kitty gun at a local gun shop. Wait, do Hello Kitty guns require regular bullets or cuter, more sparkly ones?

The receptionist watched me panic for a few minutes and then smiled knowingly as she handed me a second card:

Sarah, we love you and cherish the time we get to spend with you! Thanks for always being there for me, and loving me. Love, your brother Jeff

I love my brother, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to kick him in the face.

An Open Letter To Google, Anderson Cooper & Bon Jovi

Dear Google,

While everyone is freaking out over your new privacy settings that go into effect today, I’m sitting back mildly amused. I work in advertising so, for me, the more targeting information the better I am at my job. I say, bring it!

That said, I do still have an issue with you. Let’s talk about your Groupon style program, Google Offers, shall we? With your advanced targeting capabilities and data collection you should have the ability to stop sending me such crap offers. Here’s the info you have on me:

From this it’s safe to assume I wouldn’t be interested in, well, ANY of the offers you’ve sent me. Let’s go through them one by one.

A meat offer? Really? When I’m in my gmail account you serve me ads pertaining to vegan and vegetarian lifestyles, which are relevant. Meat offers notsomuch. I do appreciate that the meat is all natural, but it’s still animal flesh. Yuck.

A couples getaway AND a couples massage? Google, you know I’m single. Do you really need to rub it in my face? Jackass.

And my favorite… gun offers. Oh Google, you’re so silly. I don’t own firearms, want to own firearms or need to own firearms. So firearm training? Not really my thing.

If I could go ahead and personally order my Google Offers here’s what I would be interested in:

  • A couples massage WITH Anderson Cooper
  • A couples getaway WITH Bon Jovi
  • Wine, chocolate and/or coffee savings to enjoy while naked in bed with Anderson Cooper and/or Bon Jovi
  • Dog kennel savings – I’m certainly not interested in taking Asshole Puppy on my lovecation with Anderson Cooper or Bon Jovi. That whore dog will steal all my snuggle time.

I think that provides you with sufficient information to suck me into your savings ploy.

Love,
Sarah

Why The Oscars Aren't My Thing

Friend: “What did Colin Firth win an Oscar for last year?”

Me: “For best supporting male in my pants.”

Friend: “OMG, I love you so hard!!!”

Me: “Funny, that’s exactly what I said to him.”