Category Archives: Pregnancy


When receiving text messages at midnight with “Happy new Years!” I felt tempted to respond in the way I felt at the moment, in which case my text message response would look like this: “Yup.”

Now of course you can’t do that. You cant actually write yup.

It breaks all new years etiquette. It’s worse then ignoring the text message. In ignoring a text, you can blame your drunkenness and how you were so plastered you didn’t even have the ability to read a text, let alone write one out in return.

I would have just written a sweet and simple “Yup.” but that would incur the curiosity of every friend, and would have gotten me back text messages asking about the worst of possible scenarios. “Are you not drunk?” “Did you see someone from high school?” “What’s wrong?” or the more amusing “wzHatt Wringgiircll,566?” which could have made it all worth it, but I digress.

I’m sorry but this is just not my holiday and I’m tired of trying to make it be.

I know I know, you’d think New Years Eve would be my time to shine. “Doesn’t that blogger chick go out all the time? Isn’t she like always drunk?”

Yeah yeah I know, Bachlorette parties and New Years Eve, those SHOULD be my nights of reign and glory. Unfortunately it is because expectations are set so high for these nights, is perhaps why they fail.

I went out of my way this year to make this year not like last year. Last year where I woke up in a strange apartment with a Scottish guy, having ditched my coupled off friends and gotten plastered by 9:15pm. I don’t remember anywhere near midnight.

The year before had been no less delightful because my friends again were coupled off and not doing anything exciting so I went out with coworkers I don’t normally go out with, and stayed decidedly sober in attempts to escape the awkwardness after the ball dropped.

In my hopes to remember new years this year and be with people I knew, I was perfectly okay with dinner plans and a house party, which of course were canceled.

Myself, my friend and her boyfriend, and our friend and his spur of the moment date, all wound up on a party bus with fifteen strangers.


So much for an evening of familiarity.

I can see everyone’s shaking of their heads at me. Is she complaining about a party bus? Lets be clear,I’m stag on a bus of strangers, we are hitting clubs downtown that have lines that wrap around buildings that wrap around building that wrap around buildings.

Within twenty minutes being on the bus my friends spur of the moment date was already spilling her orange drink on me, and I couldn’t even rock a buzz yet.

Our first stop was at a club we would never get into even if we had all day and night to wait, so we went into a pizza place, and then somehow I’m following strangers to liquor stores to buy cheaper booze, to pour under tables.


When it is finally midnight we drive to a field that is the perfect place to watch the downtown fireworks. Midnight is announced and my friend and his spur of the moment date – lets call her Kathy how about – , who were in conversation with me seconds before, go in for their kiss and as I, being a bit surprised by the abruptness, stood there for several seconds too long.

After stepping back a few feet I looked at the progression and literally I kid you not a line had formed. On the sidewalk near our bus, practically single file, three and more couples were making out in such uniformity it was almost awesome.

Then some guy opened a champagne bottle and sprayed it at me.

Getting back on the bus it was then the shit show. Dear old Kathy had made out with my friend as well as another guy at midnight, such a lucky gal.

Her most recent kissing partner basically dry humped her until death in the back of that party bus. In many attempts to save her, she went back to him, until I’m almost sure he got her pregnant back there.

Awww they could name their baby New Years. Or 2014!

When getting off the bus our dear friend Kathy revealed that her little black dress had basically split all the way up to her bra. Her whole backside revealed changed all of our plans. I hailed a cab.

Her date, our friend, conveniently decided to stay out dancing with everyone, while my friend and her boyfriend, and myself got her into a cab and let her wish us Happy New Year every 2 minutes or just when there was a pause in conversation.

One thing I will say about the cab ride and ride back in my car, was that she was so plastered and it annoyed me, and also that it was sad.

She said once to me “I just didn’t want to remember tonight” and I so felt for her in that moment. Boobs falling out, platinum blonde bleached hair a mess, and a ripped dress, drunk and repeating the same sentence over and over.

It’s like looking at yourself.
Minus the boobs and blonde hair.

We pulled over for her to use a gas station restroom, which I had to guide her to, and I distinctly remember saying out loud to myself “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Which is hilarious because my whole goal for this New Years was that I wanted to drink less so I could actually remember getting to midnight!

I suppose I learned that there is nothing I can do to make this holiday better. If i get too drunk I miss out on the whole night. If I don’t drink enough then I have to actually put up with the whole night and remember how much I wanted the night to end as well as secretly fear that the girl we brought with us is going to get gang raped in the back of the bus and I didn’t do enough to stop it so I’ll go to jail and probably spend my remaining new Years hoping for new bed springs.

Even when I make deliberate efforts to spend the new years with people that I know, I still wind up helping strange drunk girls find the bathroom to puke.

Acceptance is everything. I accept that this holiday sucks, so next year I deem that Dec 31st shall be terrible once more, and in my low expectations I pray that the evening may rise to slightly tolerable.

Ahem excuse me

Oh, right. YYAAAYYYYYY!!! Whooopppppeee!!! 2014!!!

the stroller

I just want to state that I love my sister. Truly and truly and truly I do.

But when she is describing to me her plan to walk about her neighborhood and inspect the sidewalk; the cracks, bumps, and gravel, to then evaluate the kind of stroller she’ll be needing, I feel not only the urge to strangle her but also anyone in the business of supplying strollers.

Now let me just note, she already has a stroller picked out. Her son, my nephew, will not be born until the end of August, but she has had her stroller picked out for over a month.

This was until she realized, “what if the stroller can’t properly manage the state of the sidewalk in the neighborhood we live in?” Now I don’t know where she thinks she is living currently, but it sounds to me like she has her suburban area confused with a mountainous terrain or a spot out in the country where aliens previously landed and left giant craters.

I mean strollers don’t have superpowers…It’s a stroller! Am I right?

Meanwhile my younger cousin is prancing about the yard with her fiance, all a glow in her little sundress with her ring sparkling in the sun. I looked up into the sky and secretly cried help but wine did not suddenly pour out from the clouds and into a large pitcher.

My sister and cousin talked with the moms aunties and grandmas, almost in the fashion of a huddle if that helps you with imagery, to plan their upcoming showers. It’s a moment like in the movies where all these ladies in the same family are sitting around in a circle and laughing and smiling, and I did want to be a part of the circle because of the obvious merriment. However I knew if I went over there they’d be talking about shower dates, changing tables, matching the flowers with the linens and the bridesmaids dresses. So I stayed at the table with the boys who were all focused on distracting one another so they could pour ice down each others shirts.

My sister will be having her baby shower here soon. I want to suggest that she bring her stroller and then load it up with all the baby gifts she receives at the shower to you know, see how it handles the load while taking corners.

The bridal shower for my cousin wont be for a couple of months, so I have some time to buy a really cute sundress somewhere and then also find a reason to be super happy so I can look half as enchanted with life as she does. So drunk then, I’ll probably be drunk.

Maybe I’ll go buy a stroller tonight so I can cart around my bottles of wine to all these showers…..

My best friend is engaged and pregnant, but lets talk about how cool it would be if I were a bartender.

well my best friend is now engaged and pregnant, and I’ve been thinking of becoming a bartender.

I suppose it’s not enough to come stumbling home from a bar, I now have the desire to help others stumble home as well. If that’s not selfless I don’t know what is.

Now back to the engagement, don’t worry, I was the appropriate amount of excited when the now fiance of my best friend asked for advice for the proposal and I portrayed another appropriate amount of excitement when days before said proposal, my best friend called to say she was pregnant. And the night of the proposal when seeing the pictures of him kneeling down I displayed large quantities of excitement through text (three million exclamation marks after each word, I should get a best friend of the year medal thank you very much) and what not..

So I’ve heard somewhere that single people, when single for too long, become selfish. They become focused on their own needs because they are not with anyone, and do not have to care for someone else’s feelings on a significant level.

Well I would have to agree because even as I’m sitting here describing the engagement and the starting of a family of my best friend for over a decade, all I can really think about is how cool I would look bartending.

I mean like I would rock that shit.

I would come up with new drinks, I’d be super speedy, I’d dress the part. Should I be like a rough and tumble rocker lookin chick or a sexy lady with some heels and a low cut shirt? I would take shots with my fellow bartenders and maybe I’d let some hot guys buy me a few as well? I wouldn’t even mind the late hours one bit. Like what am I even going to do that night anyways? Beg my married friends to come out past ten pm to have one beer with me? They’ll probably all be pregnant soon anyways and feel that they cant even walk into bars anymore unless it’s at a Chili’s or Applebees. Might as well dress up, go make drinks as well as consume them, stay out late, and get paid for it. Hellllllz to the yeah.

What was I originally blogging about? Oh right, we were talking about my best friends up coming marriage and birth of her first child. Yes so the wedding well we don’t know when that will take place due to the pregnancy and I do not know what to say about the baby because I’ve never seen it. The only bond existing between this fetus and I is the picture taken of the birth control sign for YOU ARE PREGO on the pee stick.

I think what the sign on the pee stick should really say is “you can’t drink for nine months” though that does seem a little harsh. Speaking of drinking, wouldn’t I be an awesome bartender?