DUDE. UGH.
Things are tense and weird at work right now. I got involved in an uncomfortable discussion before I left last week, and it made me dread coming back in today. It was the kind of talk where I kept thinking, “I cannot believe we are having this conversation. This is not happening.” It was horrid.
When quittin’ time finally rolled around, a trotted away just as fast as my little legs could carry me, and while I enjoyed my Easter weekend, I could still feel the cloud of Yuck and Bad Karma hovering over me.

I’ve got that itchy, jumping-out-of-my-skin feeling that is typically my cue for needing to do something drastic with my hair, but I’m trying to be kind to it and grow it out, so that’s off the table. J is having similar stressful stuff going on at work, but since he has no hair to play with, his proposed solution is to get a new tattoo (ha). We ended up having a long, slightly buzzed discussion about our future, jobs and kids and everything, and it was really fucking depressing and scary. It was decided that we should run away, and live a peaceful existence on a commune, free from the confines of a job and taxes and E!; we could name our children Earth and Sky and Meadow, and J would grow a beard, just for fun, and we could have goats. Just because.

When I was in middle school, I thought being an adult would be a lot of partying and living a glamorous life in a townhouse (heh), staying up all night, and buying lottery tickets and beer, or something.

When I was in high school, I thought it would be like Friends, but with more of this amazing Tantric Sex that Cosmo kept talking about.

When I was in college, I thought it would be about having a fabulous career and lots of money to spend.

I’ve discovered that it’s more about finding someone to hold on to, someone to get slightly drunk with at 8 o’clock on a Thursday night, then eat leftover pizza off paper plates, and then have pleasant vanilla married sex in your bed swathed in plain cotton sheets, and fall asleep together with the TV still on the local news.

My bestie Jamie and I went out to a movie and dinner the other night, and it was just what my cold little shriveling soul needed – it is so, so, so good to spend time with a kindred spirit.

I’ve been in a funk the past couple of weeks - after getting back my blood test results, and discovering that I’m still not pregnant and still not ovulating on my own, J and I have decided to take a break from the babymaking. 4 months of no period at all, followed by 4 months of Clomid treatments, and the ensuing hormone rushes and über-planned, less than romantic, mechanical sex, made for a very stressed out and weepy me. I am extremely impatient, and even though I have read the books and the websites and the message boards and talked to people, and know that I’m not the only woman in the world who has lazy ovaries, it’s still a heavy burden to carry, and really one I have to bear alone. And it was too much for me. So I’m taking a step back, to take care of myself, to love my husband more, to have awesome sex that is Just Awesome Sex, and to not have to plan our social calendar around my ovulation.

Plus, work and its stresses are about to pick up exponentially, and we have several trips planned over the next couple of months; I’d prefer not to have to sneak in some Sex Week action in my Nanny’s squeaky spare bed, with only a thin wall separating us from my parents, or to have to get it on in the woods or in our car (I have had too much car sex already in my lifetime – I am NOT doing it anymore!).

It’s been a relief not worrying about it – I’ve been heartily enjoying my drinking and caffeine privileges, and sex with no pressure is so much more fun; I also feel less guilty buying new spring and summer clothes, knowing that I won’t have a growing belly to take into consideration. Still, it was hard to hear this week that some college friends are expecting their first child this summer. It’s not that I’m not thrilled for them – they are awesome and ready and will produce the cutest little future fine arts majors you ever saw – but still, there was the pang. (Damn that pang).

I’m taking tomorrow off for a much-needed shopping trip and mental health day with Jamie – the most strenuous decision I will make over the next 72 hours will be The brown pair or the red pair?

Have a beautiful weekend, my chickens!

First:



Heh, penis straws.

Okay, moving on...

I’ve been on a music download kick lately – it’s bad, probably 30+ bucks’ worth in the past week (that’s bad for me, because I’m cheap – also, I’d been trying to pay off that credit card…eh, nevermind.)

Earlier this week it was “Which songs would I sound awesome singing along to in the car?”; that list was extensive, and also made me realize that I must’ve been a 70’s soft rock backup singer in a past life.

Now I’ve moved on to the Guilty Pleasures phase – my last 2 were Erasure’s “Take A Chance On Me”, and The Mamas and The Papas “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” (I just noticed that they have a similar theme – unrequited love much?).

What do you suggest? No Freebird or boy bands.

COME ON, y'all

I am totally obsessed with Sitemeter – I check it at least 3 or 4 times a day, because I can’t wait for the weekly email report; I am more of an instant gratification kind of girl.

I see that you are mostly Texas folks (Howdy!), and I think I know who you are, but there are some other guys, too; please make me feel less like that crazy lady that puts Bandaids in her hair and talks to herself, and say hey – especially if you’ve just been lurking and haven’t commented before (because I can see you!!!!).

Here, I’ll even give you something to comment about (if you want to): What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do, but have never had the nerve?

I’ll start: I’ve always wanted to strip for J, and he totally digs the idea, but if it came down to it, I’d get all giggly and self-conscious, and then I’d feel stupid instead of sexy.

Come on Allie, get the ball rolling! :)

Y’all, I am waaaaay tired today. My best friend and her husband are in town visiting from Tennessee, and they came over last night for a drink. J just had a beer, but the rest of us polished off 3 bottles of Riesling…so today I’m not hungover, just totally draggin’ ass.

Feel like my posts have been especially lackluster lately – my brain has only been producing thoughts of a dull grayish brown color lately. I always think of good post subjects when I’m falling asleep, or in the middle of the night. I start mentally writing it up, and think of lots of clever things to say, and when I wake up and try to remember what I came up with, I’m like, “Uh, something about…Fruity Pebbles? And Elmer’s Glue? WTF?” I need to just keep a notebook by my bed so I can scribble stuff down as I think of it. Used to that for dreams, because my brain would cobble together some crazy shit, but I don’t have entertaining dreams anymore (though this morning, J did tell me that he dreamt he and his bro were the dudes in Dukes of Hazard, and Boss Hog was chasing them, but some chick walking a dog flashed them, and that distracted them, and then they got caught. Yeah, I have no idea.)

And Now For Something Completely Different

So J and I live kind of out in the sticks, on 2 acres in a suburb of Houston. It’s nice and quiet, and I enjoy being able to walk out to the car in my underwear unnoticed (at least after dark). The acre lot behind us has been an empty grassfield since before we even started building about 5 years ago – it’s been nice to pretend that it’s just more of our backyard. BUT. Recently, there has been more activity back there by the owner of the lot – I think they’re preparing to start a pad for a house. And I am really sad about it. Our house is set on the back 1/3 of the lot, making for a nice, big front yard, but that means that when the owners behind us start building, their house will be muuuuch closer than what we’ve been used to. More importantly, unless we put up a 10-ft. privacy fence, said neighbors will be able to see very well into our house. That means I will have to start wearing pants again when I am home, and that sucks.

It’s not that I wander around naked or near it all the time – it’s just that sometimes putting on actual clothes to cover my body just takes so much effort. Maybe I’ll at least be able to keep my topless privileges through the unbearable south Texas summer…or maybe the contractors will get a peep show. We shall see.

Despite the sunshine and smell of approaching spring in the air, I’m in a pitiful melancholy mood today. Let’s wallow in it together, shall we?

Songs Guaranteed To Make Me Cry (Or At Least Mope)

Danny’s Song, by either Loggins & Messina or Ann Murray
Black by Pearl Jam
Puff The Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul, and Mary
Song for Athene composed by John Tavener
More Than Words by Extreme
Tears In Heaven by Clapton
A Letter To Elise by The Cure
And So It Goes by Billy Joel
Last Kiss by Pearl Jam, or by that first dude
Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon
Fade Into You by Mazzy Star
At The Stars by Better Than Ezra
Just about any fucking country song, because country music sucks like that
Eagles Need A Push by Cigar Store Indians
Against All Odds by Phil Collins

Oh Honey, No

This is just 20 kinds of wrong.