Friday, July 24, 2009

Pumpin Drunk

Ok I was a little "happy" while I wrote this one. So happy I forgot to post it. Well, better late than never - right?

Yea, I said it. I'm pumping drunk. Cool your jets people, I'm not going to feed it to my kid. Since I haven't had a serious bender...well....since the night I got pregnant, I am a pretty cheap date. So I went to happy hour with a few co-workers. Before the first glass of wine I texted husband to see if he could pick up child at daycare. Check. After the first glass of wine I texted husband to see if he could feed her a bottle (it went something like "I am going to be hammered. Please feed her a bottle."). Then he texted to ask me if I wanted sushi.

Good husband.

Consumed more wine, walked home (which must have been humorous to watch - drunk lady stumbling home with a breast pump and a laptop). I get home and despite the fact that my kid now finds it amusing to bite me with those two little teeth of death, I continue to do some breastfeeding. I'm no martyr, nor am I a glutton for punishment. It's mostly because I need to GET. IT. OUT. On this fair evening I unceremoniously retired the pump at work so it's home with me. I decide I will pump and dump at home. So while husband is putting child to bed in the other room I am drunk, hooked up to a pump and posting to my blog. Sad, sad life I lead.

Pumping drunk has its risks, namely getting stuff all over the place. First I realize too late that the containers are dangerously full...try to rectify, spills on my leg. Then I have no where to put it. Through one squinty eye I see the to-go coffee cup that I just pulled out of work bag. Dump containers and replace the lid on the to-go cup. Pump some more, stop. Unplug. Accidentally spill half of the container on leg. Curse. Grab to-go cup, dump remainder. Fail to realize the lid is on and closed. Curse again. Spill.

Totally disoriented. I will be SO FRICKIN HAPPY when I never have to do this again.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

It's Saturday Night Bitches!

Saturday night! I'll bet you are wondering what this girl is up to. No? How about I tell you anyway...maybe it'll help you sleep.

1. Laundry - nothing new there.
2. Cleaning up take out from the aftermath of my parents visit & "post house shopping" dinner
3. Occasionally picking up a screaming child to feed her more Tylenol (6 month vaccinations - whee!)
4. Made Kale chips per Kajal's recipe. They remind me of what the leaves look like in the fall as they spiral lifelessly from the trees. However, these are edible and salty. I think I made them a little too salty. A word to anyone else who attempts this - Kale cooks fast and burns faster. Keep an eye on those suckers.

You might be asking yourself, "Why is she eating Kale chips?". Or, perhaps you aren't, knowing I grew up eating cardboard and tofu with my hippie mother. Either way, I've decided to remove the 15lbs from my ass that has decided to set up camp. I had hoped I would be like Gwyneth Paltrow and all like, "Oh la la la, I did nothing but breastfeed and somehow it all just fell off of miraculously". Clearly that did not happen since my pants still don't fit. Technically I can't even blame the baby, I need to blame my poor poor non-smoking metabolism and the fact that I ate a metric tonne of pretzels over the first 12 weeks of my pregnancy to keep from puking all over my shoes.

I'm not bitter. Just fat.

Me being on a diet means my other half is not allowed to eat bad stuff either. He isn't so fond of this rule which would explain why I found him squirreling away M&Ms late in the evening. Some men hide their porn, my husband hides his chocolate.

If you want to make a miserable girl more miserable, throw house shopping in the mix. A word on this whole business. First, I entered into this exercise without realizing that there was some sort of $8K rebate from the government. Apparently I am the only person in the free world that 1. didn't know about it and 2. isn't going ape shit over it. Why do people suddenly feel the need to blow hundreds of thousands of dollars to get 8 for free. To make matters worse, it's July and we're headed into a busy home buying period which is whipping the retards out there into a frenzy.

My father is convinced that our realtor is out to get us. I know this will surprise you all, but we don't agree on this point. She will tell you why two seemingly identical houses are priced differently, she will tell you why a house is sitting on the market for 200 some odd days, she'll even tell you if she thinks you shouldn't go see a house because it's a train wreck. His big beef is her saying things like, "well, this one is priced at $x because it's in such and such a zip code rather than this other home that's not." or, "People are willing to pay for center halls and first floor family rooms.". There's no judgement, she's just pointing out why people have priced their homes a certain way. My father believes that she would tell you a pile of shit in the street were nice if it were on the main line.

If you know anything about the Philadelphia suburbs, you know that the main line has an odd collection of homes. There are million dollar mansions, there are shacks and everything between the two. But shack or mansion, it's got several things going for it - reputation & one of the top two school districts in the tri-state area. Personally we're seeing two things out there. People who purchased at the top of the market, renovated, took out home equity loans, put almost no money down and want to recoup all that plus their closing costs. Then there's the old people sellers, God forsaken wall to wall carpeting, mothball smelling, carpeted kitchen havin, last re-decorated in the 70's stylin' nightmares. These people are the funniest - they probably bought the house for $30K in 1960 and think they're going to get the same price as the fully renovated joint down the block. Someone needs to remove their Blublockers and cruise line branded sun visor and smack them upside their cotton heads.

Frankly, I'm getting to the point where I'm going to call it a day and continue to rent. Or at least I may take a break until this rebate feeding frenzy goes away.

Anyone out there have an opinion? Realtor = good or evil? Rent or own? Skinny Girl or More to Love?

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Dear Facebook,

Why do you think I might know this guy. I most certainly don't know anyone who wears a superman belt buckle. And, I really don't know any man who wears a shirt like that.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.