Chocolate

Happy Saturday, my empty-wombed witches!

My video is still up after 24 hours.

You know, I'm thinking of maybe putting up a video in here every once in awhile.  I don't particularly want to share my social security number and credit card information, but I'm trying to think of what the downside to being 'identified' on here is... because everything I can come up with is silly.

Like some horrid ex-boyfriend or evil twat from high school is going to look up infertility blogs and come across mine.... then what happens?  They'd bring it up?  They'd stick around?  They'd send it to everyone on their mailing list to share?  What exactly would that mean other than they have a creepy obsession with my uterus?

I dunno.  Bug-eyes is uncomfortable in photos and videos, admittedly.  But it drives me bonkers that every other knocked up celebrity has twins and yet there are around three I can think of that have openly talked about having fertility issues.  I think they're chicken and wasting a perfectly good opportunity - and they're famous, so everyone would know about it.  So maybe it's time to put my money where my mouth is.

I dunno.  I'm thinking maybe inspired by the lovely Jenn, we should start doing some weekly/monthly video entry or something.  (And I get that some have genuinely horrid ex-boyfriends/husbands or weird employment situations, so I'm thinking video or voice - like EmHart did over here).  Thoughts? I just think maybe I want to be a crazy asshole that comes out of the infertility closet.

In other news I really should be picking stuff up right now as Kali is coming over to watch movies with me and my sad jaw.  Instead, I'm writing here and wondering if there is a realistic way to talk her into watching a horror movie, and if there's any way I can watch them in October without wanting to go out and buy kit-kats.  Too bad most are so famous in title - some of the preview mash-ups make them look so innocent.

And now to keep up with my writing prompts....

What is your favorite book?
No.  I object.  Too many.  There is no winner.

I've read the Harry Potter books 8 million times.  That woman's writing is flawless.

This summer I just read "The Perks of being a Wallflower" and loved it.  It's now a movie which I must see soon.  A particularly good read if you went to High School in the 90s, and were a bit weird.

My easy-read comfort book is "Like Water for Chocolate".  Romance and recipe installments, totally fantastical and fairy-talesque, set in old Mexico.  I've read it 10,000 times.  Seriously - read if you haven't.

What is your current favorite band?
I am normally shit on 'current'.  Although my puppy gets excited when I do my interpretation for her of Rihanna's "S&M".

I am, however, currently having a love affair with Otis Redding.  On my favorite-for-cleaning Pandora station (just type in "harry belafonte" and poof - 20 minutes later your house is cleaned) the Otis Redding version of "stand by me" came up, which I had never heard, and have since been smitten.

Lately it has inexplicably been a lot of Otis Redding, Harry Belafonte, James Brown...So this fall I have the musical tastes of a charming 60 year old black man.  How's that for current?

G-d help us all, I'm posting a video.

Yes indeed, kids, Jabba the hut had a love child with Rodney Dangerfield and it is I... (is it a wonder I can't procreate?)

Depending on my drug-induced bravery this could be up anywhere between 10 seconds and forever.  Get it while you can.

Sidenote, this is indeed my first adventure into webcamland as I had no takers on my Sex Webcumming site even when I offered to pay them.  Only for you people.

Now let's see if this works... And I'm sure whatever frozen image of me it has decided to display is PRICELESS.

Yup... Now that I've published it I see it... priceless indeed....

I am doing this because I want to see videos of all of you in your live glory!  I am jumping naked into the pool.  Join me it's a tad bit nipply.

Stars in the Sky

(I am cheating... I wrote this yesterday, blogger went wonky, reverted it to draft)...

Nobody move.

It is a loverly 72 degrees outside... This is quite literally the first day in months - months & months & months! - where all Los Angelians have not apparently gone outside and exhaled chili-breath in unison making it 4,000 degrees outside.

This is The Future Fords.  I do not remember how she came into my bloggy life or when, but she is lovely.  If you are unfamiliar, go check her out - thus far in my short bloggy life, she has won the grand prize for the post title that made me the happiest upon seeing it in my newsfeed, "I have an STD and I couldn't be happier!"  

Do you love her yet?  Good. 

Anyhoodle, if you haven't picked up on it yet in your own newsfeed - she's doing an October writing prompt thingamajig.  Go join. It's no muss no fuss, one question a day to throw in as you please, and Stork loves a good writing prompt.

Today's writing prompt is actually to post a video - a video! - which depending on pain pills, my jaw and the alignment of the stars in the sky I will do sometime between today and Monday.  (That's right folks... In my previous post I have a picture of myself soon to be taken down - and you will soon be subjected to Stork's fat in motion).  I feel horribly self conscious in front of any kind of camera.. A year ago I had to have head shots taken for a job and it was literally 3 good shots and 300 of me trying not to laugh.  I give you one of the good results which will soon be replaced by a ridiculous picture, and you can hopefully keep in your head for when you see my video, and think to yourself  "dang, live, she really looks like Rodney Dangerfield..."

The first three questions, which I missed - 

What is your astrological sign and do you feel it's accurate?

Capricorn, and not really.

I admittedly have little knowledge in the zodiac department, but from what I understand they are the most serious, responsible, disciplined, patient and ambitious of all the signs.

I dunno if you put it together or not, but I'm not that serious.  Serious makes me die a little bit.  My response to all serious situations is to throw in goof.

Ambitious, responsible, patient, disciplined.. Hmm... I have some high hopes for myself, but if I someday reach the top of my career it will be because someone wrangled in my creativity.  Ask my writing partner Ms. Kali.  I am great at coming up with creative ideas and I rely on her for the discipline.  My writing process does not involve sitting down with a rigid schedule.  I do completely unrelated shenanigans, funny stuff pops into my head, I write it down later.  If someday we win an oscar for a screenplay, it'll be because I had some crazy idea while I was picking out vegetables and she successfully wrangled me onto a computer.

Patience?  I have none.  Well, I have the waiting in line, giving people a break patience but I wouldn't consider myself a patient person.

I think I definitely have mastered the 'unemotional' side of Capricorn's and am the friend you would call in to take care of you when the shit has really hit the fan.  That's my strong suit.

Bub is also a Capricorn and I think he fits it to a T - super ambitious, disciplined, etc.. If you met him you might think he's serious but obviously he's redonkulous or he would've hurled my ass out long ago.

I doooo relate more to the Aquarians, I think, they're a bit nuttier - and I'm just a couple days short of being one.  Plus I think I'm a Capricorn by western standards only so maybe I'm supposed to be looking at this from an eastern point of view?

How did your Husband propose?

Well, we kind of had already decided to get married - we're mellow like that - so there was no coreographed dance routine, costumes, or hiding of jewelry in an omelette. 

Twas December 2005, we had been together a month shy of two years, and we'd moved from the east coast to our shoebox sized apartment in West Hollywood (still my favorite place I'd ever lived) five months before.  

My Dad (who passed away 8 months before I met Bub) left me a diamond that had been in his family since the early 1900's.  I always wanted it as my engagement ring, and when I met Bub I thought him getting that diamond would be the closest he'd ever get to asking my Dad's permission. Plus it's a decent enough size where the cost to get it fit into a ring was about the same as buying a new engagement ring.  Unknown to me, Bub asked my Mom for it, they went and had it fit (and I remember him saying he was so nervous driving the 90 minutes back with it, and that he really did feel like it was him asking my Dad's permission).

Anyhoo, he told me he had an early Christmas present for me, shoved me in our bathroom and blindfolded me.  He lit some candles, let me out to our couch, got down on one knee and asked.  Our cats kept interrupting, their were Christmas decorations everywhere, I was in my pajamas - it was very us.  A blurry pic of my sausage fingers the day after - 

I love it so much.  From certain angles it looks white, from others yellow, sometimes blue... I don't wear it often because it makes me a smidge nervous but when I do, I feel like I have a great big star on my hand, courtesy of the most important men in my life.

What is your most embarrassing moment?

Oh lawdy... I don't really embarrass that easily.  I don't know if this is my most embarrassing but Mr. T & I were talking about it the other day so here goes.

I farted on a woman's shoulder in a restaurant.

Okay so Mr. T & I's faaaaavorite place to get breakfast is called the Griddle Cafe.  If the food wasn't so good it would be obnoxious - middle of West Hollywood, full of hipsters & celebrity stalkers (they even have an obnoxious little room for the famous), very tiny building, super loud, endlessly crowded.  (As in - if you wanted to go early-early on a saturday morning, there would be 40 people waiting outside).

But I'm telling you - it is the best fucking breakfast food you have ever had in your life.

Case and point - Bubella loves it as well.  During her visit she ordered this - I give you red velvet pancakes.

ANYHOO.  It's so tiny and crowded that when you don't get a booth (and you won't) you are sitting practically on top of the people next to you - so close that it's awkward not to talk to them.

I'm normally an excellent fart muffler, but this was one of those ones where you have a second or two of warning, tops.  So we were getting up from our table, my ass was on top of the woman's shoulder who was sitting next to us, and I farted.  Thankfully it was so noisy there's no way even she could've heard it - so I figured I had a good 5 seconds before the fumes hit, so I gave Mr. T my best "we have to leave immediately" face and I was gone before she knew what happened.

Oh for shame.

In other news, tomorrow we have an appointment with the RE to discuss next steps... Which is basically hopefully getting Bub out to Boston to get a super duper fancy test to hopefully shed some light on poor fertilization.  So hopefully we'll get him in and have a little more information beforehand, or we'll do IVF again blind - thinking January.

So here's hoping to a conception in the month-o-Capricorn.

Zombie Apocalypse

It is WEDNESDAY.

The rumors of my death and dismemberment have been greatly exaggerated - I've just been an unusually busy Stork.

Those outside of L.A. may or may not be familiar with the term "carmageddon".

Cars are to L.A. what pedestrians are to NYC.  If you want to travel two blocks, you hop on a highway.  To make some repairs, they shut down the 405 to the 101 this weekend - essentially the two highways everyone here takes.  They did this last year for a weekend, too - you go back and forth between thinking it's not going to be a big deal, and then assuming it's going to be an all out zombie apocalypse and you should be stocked up on can goods and whittling broom handles.  Plus, I live on basically the one available beach access road left.

It wasn't that bad - but I had to travel.  My life since we last spoke - 

Thursday evening went swimmingly - I was alone, rather enjoyed it, feel somewhat like a ninja warrior for not being too chicken.

Friday I had to drive down to the OC for my sister's 40th.  It was T-5 hours to carmageddon, and what is normally a 60-90 minute drive took me 3 1/2 hours as everyone was fleeing the city like cockroaches in the night.

Family party (babies babies everywhere there are babies), trying to be sociable with my sister's friends who were surprisingly lovely, dropping drunk sister off at rich friend's house for continuation of party. (Rich as in house, guest house, second guest house - hilarious trying to get my shitty car out the motion detecting gate).

Leave close to midnight for LAX, unable to take my usual highways, pick up Bub.  Maneuver through beaches and canyons to get home at 2 AM ( was convinced we were headed towards death-by-deer).  Dogs furious. 

Sleep all day Saturday.  Discover on Sunday that I need to do a psychotic clean, as house smells like old potatoes and we haven't had potatoes in weeks.  Clean, remove trunks of Halloween decorations from garage (which is a death trap), verify trunks are free of raccoon, put decorations up (including horrifying zombie woman on front porch).

Monday, wake up at ass crack of dawn as it is Mr. T's birthday and we go to Disney every year.  Arrive at Disney at 10 AM full of coffee and optimism.  Purchase fabulous lacey ears with a feathered top hat.  Marvel at the fact that all previous years we've had to wear sweatshirts - as apparently, this year, they moved the park from Anaheim to the surface of the sun, or just decided to hell with the theme park altogether let's make it a Disney themed sweat lodge.  Sweat off half of my body weight, discover they have jacked up the annual pass prices ($267 big ones, happy birthday Mr. T) had all around good albeit very hot time.

Get home Monday evening exhausted and full of hives (I'm telling you, it's entirely possible I'm allergic to children) forget that I put zombie woman on my front porch, scare the crap out of myself.  (Screaming, shaky hands, near fall... if you were a nosey neighbor peeping out your window at that moment my insanity would be confirmed as it would have appeared I was having a passionate argument with a mannequin).

Tuesday morning wake up to realize I have pulled a muscle in my rib cage (how, I don't know - I'm refusing to believe it was the zombie woman) and that jaw is clicking.  Who knew I even had muscles at the top of my rib cage?  The only thing I can think that they do is hold up my boobs.  Admittedly this is a difficult job, but as far as job assignment goes I don't see why they're complaining now or ever - compared to my colon they are doing the Lord's work.  Spend all day trying to figure out how to write while laying flat.

This morning, wake up, find that sleeping for 8 hours has eased the rib pain, but my jaw is worse.  Make impromptu trip to see dentist (again in O.C. - I'm a huge chicken and know my dentist personally, so that's where I go) and discover that I have somehow completely dislocated my jaw (again) without realizing it.  Listen to the disbelief at my pain tolerance, happily take prescription for pain medication, drive home.

As an amends for my absence, I'm gonna reveal myself in a picture.  A picture of Mr. T. & I, my gay husband (the straight one's a little camera shy), on the tram at Disney. Enjoy, because I will soon be replacing it with a picture of an angry uterus (when your chubby it's best if all forms of nudity are brief).

That's Stork.  Am I what you pictured? I'm curious because most of you I have no idea what you look like - but I've developed very clear cartoons of you in my head based on your personalities.  Wondering how reality stacks up.

So, this evening I'm going to watch the debates and enjoy not cooking, and then tomorrow I am doing nothing but individually crawling up into your uteruses to make up for my absence. You should feel the presence of ridiculous in your lady bits around noon PST tomorrow.

I did skim my newsfeed this morning - a few awesome gals that could use some good vibes:

WTW - who had some poor fertilization (been there - it's just as fun as it sounds). Hugs and love and good vibes encouraged.

Road2ourbaby - she's fine, but she had a bit of a scare with pregnancy/bleeding.  Good vibes encouraged.

SLESE1014 - My loverly friend found out her FET didn't work and is blue.  Internet forehead kisses encouraged.
B - her cat passed away (in the middle of IVF, no less).  Good furry vibes encouraged.

(Anybody else need cheering up while we're on the subject?)

So what's the drinking game for the evening - take a drink every time someone says "jobs"?  "Deficit"?  Or is that a suicide mission?

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.