Strike

Greetings, my little temptresses!

My uterus, in case you were wondering, is doing nothing.  She's not approaching a period, I don't think she ovulated - she is fucking useless.  I dunno if she's been watching "Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo" and has decided that procreation is for suckers ( yes indeed, folks, I have only seen clips but I still marvel at the fact that those people can spawn).  Maybe she's taken a page out of the NFL and is assuming that while she's on holiday waiting for me to throw more money at her I have a bumbling temporary.  (PS - I could give a shit less about football.  Can someone come up with an unfootball me app for Facebook?  K thanks).

Whatever she's doing, she's useless.  U-S-E-L-E-S-S. I am trapped in an emotional prison with her. She is my prison wife.  I  have to cater to her every whim because she's protecting me from an even worse form of prison (which is hard to imagine), and yet I'm simultaneously whittling the end of my toothbrush in hopes that an opportunity will arise where I can just shank the bitch.

I drove Bub to the airport this morning for a wee business trip.  This is my first night alone in.. years & years.    I am a brave lady about many things but never quite mastered the house-alone-at-night form of bravery, so I'm looking forward to testing my womanly strength.  I calmed myself for the impending evening by purchasing a very cute 40's looking dress, and was lulled by a saleswoman's complimentary Persian voice into buying a dress where my sizable bazoos hang out for the world to see.  Womanly strength + bazoos = I am practically Erin Brokovich.

I am occasionally going to partake in the Barren Librarian's That's Me Thursdays.

Basically wherein one lists 3 things about themselves that has absolutely nothing to do with infertility.  Here goes.

1.)  My house is the epicenter of Halloween.  I live 2 houses down from an elementary school, and in a straight, grid-like neighborhood at the bottom of many many many very very hilly suburban streets where you would only let your child trick-or-treat if you wanted to kill said child.  Last year I spent $100 on candy to hand out, and ran out after 90 minutes.  The first year we were here it was on a weekend - and I stopped counting the trick or treaters but I'm fairly certain it reached a thousand.  Seriously, don't visit me on Halloween because you will run a kid over.  Not good for infertile karma.

2.) I have very, very large eyes.  You may be thinking "oh how lovely" - FALSE.  They are mostly unsettling.  Between that and the indescribable essence of Stork, I am an invitation for all local crazies to strike up a conversation.  On the way to the airport this morning at 4 AM, I stopped for gas and a drunk man talked to me about all the dew on my car, I had to apologize to Bub for the delay because when I am half asleep I'm somehow hyper magnetized.  When I went shopping, a man who was trying to return hand lotion because, and I quote, "it was cursed", decided to tell me about his woeful tale.

If you are within a block of me, you will think I'm making eyes at you. If I am in a dead sleep, you will think I'm making eyes at you.  If you are the lone space man who happens to be orbiting over my neighborhood in your saucer, you will think I'm making eyes at you.

3.)  If I pass a pair of cozy socks in any store, they will strike me as the coziest socks that ever were and I must take them home.

And I am dreadfully dreadfully behind on EmHart's September photo challenge.  I have many pictures!  So many.  Prepare to be bombarded this weekend.  A few submissions:


Myth
Throw a few people in here and it will look like NY.  Nope.  Paramount Studios here in L.A., and all just fronts.  Fairly certain if I hurled my fat ass hard enough at one of these buildings I could put a dent in it.

New
My 40s looking purchase from today... I'm gonna need you to get a few drinks in me to show you the bazooms one.

Roald Dahl

I'm slightly cheating here and giving you a pic I've had for awhile.. but damnit if I didn't try for a half of an hour the other day to get a picture of this damn dog still and in her pig costume.... but I give you Luna, my own personal BFG.

Cozy/Peace

The thing that makes me most peaceful is being in my own house, chilling out with Bubbaloo and the animals.  This is Phoebe striking her coziest pose (and I said on my homies page - don't be fooled, she'll cut a bitch).

Now.  Who's going to come over so we can hang out in footsie pajamas and ward off the boogie man?

Sidenote:  I am disabling the comment verification thing because I am blind & it can drive me crazy (if you have it, know how much I adore your blog if I comment because it's a good 5 minutes of squinting and cursing the heavens to get to you).

Strike up the porn.