Satan's School for Girls

Me no likey the Mondays.

Today, in America, it is apparently Columbus day.  What a bullshit holiday.  Columbus discovered America much in the same way that me going to my local grocery store, demanding all their produce and profits in exchange for giving them all syphilis would be me discovering Ralphs.

Much more important today is my darling, wonderful Grandpa's birthday, who is about as old as Columbus. Bub and I will be traveling this weekend yet again to the often frightening O.C. to make steak and shovel it into his ancient body.  I love my Grandparents.  My Grandma calls my grandpa 'viejo' (which means old man) and they have been married for 68 (I think) years.  They are hilarious.

In fertility news, we had our appointment Friday... A brief summary of my woes, because it's hard to keep everyone's utes organized in our minds - IVF in June, mysteriously poor fertilization (1 out of 12 fertilized) chemical pregnancy.

So Dr. Kickass pulled some strings and got another Doc elsewhere to give Bub's sperm a fancy-shmancy test for free (for freeeee!) so that turned out fine.  Now onto the super duper fancy shmancy experimental test which they do in Massachusetts.  (I won't bore you with what all it means today - if you're interested, google calcium ionophore). At any rate, the test is so fancy shmancy that they can't even prepare a sample here and ship it out, so we're now trying to organize flying Bub out there.

(As I said before, I would've liked to have thought that Bub's sperm would've traveled by air or by tiny canoe, but alas, they need the whole Bub).

So IVF coordinator nurse lady told me to take a pregnancy test yesterday 'just in case' (obviously her stand-up comedy routine needs work) and if it was negative (if!  hilarious) to start some provera today because I haven't had my period since August.  ::le sigh::

Dr. Kickass did say that 50% of couples who have inexplicably poor fertilization one time, come back the next and they're fine.  So regardless of how fancy shmancy test goes, we're looking at January or February.

Which will give me sometime to get rid of some bad habits I have re-acquired as part of my ill-advised  'do anything short of heroin to deal with this with a smile' program I've been on since June.  (Which has involved gaining 7 lbs, getting back together with regular Pepsi, and shame of all shame, smoking the occasional cigarette... whatever, mine are full of vitamins and minerals).

Writing prompts:

If you could have any job in the whole wide world regardless of your qualifications, what would you choose and why?
Hmm.. I dunno... Working admissions at Satan's school for girls?

Me thinks I would do pretty much a combo of what I'm attempting to do now.. Writing screenplays (but you know, a reality wherin I make wild amounts of money and am constantly inspired).  Comedy of some kind.  And more acting.  I looooove acting, I do. I've been an all around thespian-nerd pretty much since birth.  This would of course require me to be about 90 lbs and much more comfortable in front of the camera, but there you have it.

If you could sleep with any celebrity who would it be?
Ladies, you know I have strong opinions about this.

River Phoenix is my forever love, the perfect specimen of man-beauty.

Bill Murray, because if he were to read from the dictionary he would do it in a way that would make me tinkle myself with glee.

And - because I can't believe I forgot to mention him before - Timothy Olyphant.  Now there's a face that could get a girl into trouble - he is definitely on my top 5 (even though I forgot him previously).  Pretty sure my husband hates him because I can go on about the Olyphant (particularly a-la crazy drug dealer from Go) which is ironic because he sort of looks like him.

And now, for Manly-Monday, a non-sperm Bubba Fact.

Someone somewhere in L.A. has finally made a deal with the devil because finally, finally we are on the cusp of some fall-esque weather.  So Bub & I are now at the point where we're still sleeping with just sheets at night, and approaching being cold - but unable to commit to pulling the official blanket out of the linen closet for fear that the moment we do the weather will go back to the hellfire it's been for the last several months.

So last night I brought one of our small throw blankets to bed.  In the middle of the night, I wake up with teeth chattering, no blanket nor furry dog to comfort me, and am convinced the furry man next to me is enjoying the blanket solo.  So I half-asleep reach over and start trying to find a bit of the blanket with my hand, in Bub's lap region.

As I'm trying to find it, Bub, in his sleep feels my hand searching around his lap and yells out a loud "NUH-UH!"

I am absolutely shocked that my laughing - which I could not control for a good 3 minutes - did not wake him up.

Apparently, still-sleeping subconscious Bubba thinks that I am some sort of horndog housewife who at 3 AM turns into an insatiable middle-of-the-night lap rapist.

Settle down dude.. Just wanted a blanket.