Know What I'm Doing?

I'm sure as hell not going to Hawaii on a free trip this week because of the kumquat/squash/perpetually rolling ball encased inside my uterus currently. Now, don't get me wrong and P.S. your panties are starting to bunch, we totally would rather have a brand spanking new healthy baby boy than go on vacation for a week, for free, anywhere in the world, but can you agree that it kind of hints at blowing? Not to mention that I just heard a woman who had her baby last week is taking it's 11 day old self all the way across God's green earth to make sure she attends the conference in Hawaii. Talk about insanity. And she's a doctor no less. But who am I to criticize? I drag my poor fetus through the slums of New York City's worst hell hole for hours every day commuting back and forth to work. I'm pretty sure that ranks high on the "Best Gestation Environment Ever" list.

In other news, everything is going well with the baby so far. We still have not arrived at a name yet, though we're drawing closer to narrowing it down to any male names that are no more than 2 syllables - thank you, G. I keep forgetting to take this glucose tolerance test that is supposed to be done in the next two weeks - mainly because they told me I can't eat anything sweet at least an hour before the test and it's rare for me to go an hour abiding by this rule. Hmm. Maybe tomorrow.

Also, do you care what I had for lunch today? Because I just burnt the hell out of my tongue on clam chowder and boy does it feel nice. I'm running out of things to eat for lunch around here that will satisfy my meager attempts at eating healthy, well-balanced meals for the fetus. In the past two weeks I've had cheese pizza, a grilled cheese, clam chowder, a spicy chicken sandwich a la Wendy, fries, cheese pizza, spaghetti with cheese melted on it, and veggie pizza. Before that I was packing my lunch every day and avoided consuming so much freaking cheese. Now, there are no groceries in my frig and until my husband cries uncle and orders them himself, I'm stuck with the cheese diet. Cheese. Say it. You really want to go to the frig right now to see what kind of cheese snack options you have. It's okay, you can, you're a grown up.

I'm off to fill my water bottle. AGAIN.

Apartment Saga Update

We may have found the one, my friends. And wait until you see it! Your socks will be off faster than Pamela Anderson's panties at a Def Leopard concert. I say 'may' because we are in the rent negotiation stage of the courtship and if Mommy doesn't get what she wants, ain't nobody happy. So after I've spent the last week buttering up the poor suckers who are soon to be our landlords, G comes in at the last second and goes straight for the jugular with our rent proposal. They never even see what hit them. It's beautiful and if it were to someday become an Olympic Event, I'd be carrying the torch to Athens. Or where ever they take it. You know.

If everything goes well, I'll post some pics after the weekend, because you have got to see the kitchen and the 'nursery' and the tile and the hardwood flooring. It makes me want to rip my clothes off and rub my huge belly all over it. It's also giving me incentive to pack the butt loads of crap we currently own into a million tiny boxes to get us out of our Cockroach Den and into the Riverdale Garden of Eden. Did I mention it has two terraces? Two? One in the front and one in back? Talk about sealing the deal. I can sit on my terrace in my underwear and stare at the neighbors now. Try and keep me away from that apartment. Try. See? You can't.

Okayyyyy...

Righty Tighty, Lefty Loosey. Sorry to all of my loyal 1 total fan(s) for not writing in FOREVER. But I've been busy trying to figure out my life of late and it takes up a lot of time. So, the nuts and bolts are these: we are staying in NY for approximately 64,195,200 more seconds, or if it's easier, 1,069,920 minutes, meaning approximately 743 days, aka 2 years and 2 weeks. For this. And then we're packing up the Hillbilly Truck and moving back to the Heart of it All. We are relocating in the meantime to sunny Riverdale of the B to the RONX burrough of NY, which is both exciting and thrilling to me because my commute, yeah, I won't have one basically. Which is the best news since Reese's put PB and chocolate together in a smorgasboard of hot love. And what you should know about Riverdale are these two things to better entertain your awkward guests at the next dinner party: A.) The Corleone Family house was here in the movie and B.) JFK spent his childhood here. And if that's not the greatest marriage of synchrony since mustard and ketchup, I'm not an American.

Sorry about all the food analogies... You know, the baby.

Which brings me smack dab to where I started out trying to lead you: The May 2008 Riverdale Apartment Search/Fiasco/Disaster. Saga.

What you need to know is this, and make sure after you're finished reading this you call a family meeting and sit everyone down to go over it because it's very, very important: 1.) Never Trust A Real Estate Salesperson (eh hem, read: I's too dumb to pass my real estate license exam) named Walker Whiteside. And 2.) Don't Piss Off A Type A Pregnant Lady From Ohio. What follows are excerpts from Walker and my email banter this afternoon.

"Hello Walker,
Can you give me some information on the 3BR apartment on Fieldston in Riverdale? Where on Fieldston is it located? Is there laundry in the apartment? What floor is it on? If a high floor, is there an elevator? Thank you, T"

"This home is located on fieldston road and w.261st. there is laundry in the basement. it is on the 2nd floor of a 2 story 2 family home. Feel free to call me on my cell number below to get more information and to set up a viewing this weekend" (NOTICE: The utter lack and disregard of capitalization and punctuation. - Have I ever told you about my thing with GRAMMAR?)

"Thanks, Walker. Are the owners willing to negotiate on the rent? Say for signing a 24 month lease?"

"The owners qualifications are the following: good income and 680 or higher credit. If you are well above these base criteria then you would have a better shot a reduction for a long lease. Let me know"

"We have great income and my credit score 3 months ago was 780. I am a nurse and my husband is an associate on Wall Street. We are making our final decision about apartments on Saturday and to make this one competitive with the others, we’d expect to pay about $____. Like I said, we’d sign a 24 month lease. If they are willing to meet us on the price, we’d love to look at it on Saturday around 6 pm?"

"That is a pretty major drop in price. Let me know which properties you will be looking at in that price range ( I know all the available properties in the area). I would love for you all to view the others and then finish up with this listing. I think you will love it. If you like it, then we can work on the price, though I have to be honest with you that I don't think the owner will drop the price almost 20%. We may be able to find a middle ground. So send me the list of properties that you will be viewing and we can go from there. "

"I appreciate your help, Walker. But at this point, we don’t want to take advantage of your or our own time over details if our offer is not acceptable. Thanks for trying. Take care, T"

"That is fine. Good luck with your search on Saturday and let me know which property you end up taking in that price range. It may alert me to another owner I don't know about so I can better serve my clients.Take care"

"Hey Walker, why would I want to screw the Little Guy, huh? Why Walker? Why would I do that? I think what you mean is so you can better serve YOURSELF A BROKERS FEE. Screw that, Walkie Talkie. Screw that. And while you're at it, screw an English teacher so at least you won't type like an idiot to your clients anymore."

Okay, okay, I'm just kidding.

I left out the part about the English teacher.

Okay, This Just Makes Me Laugh

I don't know if you know or not, but the greatest website I've found recently, besides Stacey's, is Overheard in New York.

And this one just makes me die:

Mother, to four-year-old boy who has just slapped a little girl: Why did you do that?! Give me a reason right now. I demand a reason, now!

Four-year-old boy: I have to control her.

And now my day is made. Thank you Four-year-old boy, I've been trying to explain why am I am how I am and you summed it up. Kudos.

Monday's Special Thoughts

"If it is tourist season, why can't we shoot them?"

Skybus went out of business. After I bought 4 roundtrip tickets.

"Crap, I just thought it was Wednesday."

And, Crazy Anti-American French Lady is back.

Happy Monday, Everyone!

Can I Have A Minute?

Okay, Note to the Most Intelligent People of the Universe,

Hi. I'm not part of your club, but I've been having this problem and decided maybe I could ask you for the answer or some expert advice, okay? So here's what's happening. Often, when I arrive at my hospital in the morning for work, there is already someone or someones waiting for the elevator. This shouldn't pose a problem, you say. And that's where you're wrong. As I breach the threshold of the Waiting for the Elevator area, I realize AGAIN that the person waiting anxiously for the transportation mechanism has pushed the DOWN arrow.

Now, before I lose my temper and my blood pressure goes to where only the birds fly, let me please tell you what happens to the poor souls once the elevator arrives. EVERY TIME. There will now be a group of people standing and waiting for the elevator but when the door opens, we "Other People" do not get on, we anticipate that the elevator is going down one floor to the basement to pick someone else up and will be coming back our way shortly. This, we know, will happen because we have pushed the UP arrow.

Only the "Intellectually Challenged" person who pushed the stupid down button gets right on the elevator and continues to try to push their desired floor, 6, 8, or perhaps 10. Then, once again, their enormous brains are boggled when the light doesn't light up for their desired floor and instead the doors close to take them downstairs to the basement, where no one awaits them at all, because they were the Pea-sized Brainiacs that pushed the down button on themselves.

Then! The elevator returns to the 1st floor and the doors miraculously open to allow the rest of us on to push our desired floors and stare menacingly at the Freakshow who made this entire mess of our normally calm morning elevator routine.

(inhale)

This has happened several times.

I'm at a loss. Elevators. Elevate. Up arrow. 7 higher than 1. Rise. Gain height.

?

Intelligent People of the Universe, I implore you. Help me. Please.

Love,
The Walnut Sized Braniac

Key West Part Deux

And some more pictures from our Key West vac-I-must-escape-the-city-before-I-behead-someone-ation. Witness: the Roosters.
I don't know what in the Sam hell they're doing down there, but the Roosters are taking over the island. This one in particular likes to chill next to his motorcycle outside of the Cuban Cigar shop, chatting it up with the yocals. We spent several days admiring the Roosters before I finally realized something strange, there were no Hens. A few days went by before we had our answer why. What follows is a detailed eyewitness account of IHP (Insane Hen Phenomena).

Jogger Guy: I finally found out where all the Hens are.
Lazy Wife: AH! Where?! I need to find a Hen, for my own sanity.

Jogger Guy: Okay, so I'm running down the sidewalk next to the 4 lane road out there and just as I near an intersection, I notice off to my left side a Hen sitting on a 6 foot fence. Just as I'm passing it, a car flies by on the lane farthest from me and the Hen, I'm not shitting you, flies off the fence and beelines it directly into the side of the passing car, nailing it in the gas tank. The dude in the car slows down and is craning all around trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. The Hen shakes a bit and continues on her merry way across the street.
Lazy Wife: (Mouth agape.) Wha? Are you kidding?

Jogger Guy: No. And it gets better. So I ran a while down the path and then turned back towards the hotel. Just as I reached the site of the earlier incident, I saw the Hen again. And sure enough, a car was approaching in the opposite lane. Right before the car got to the Hen, she ran across the street and was hit by the bumper of the car.
Lazy Wife: This is the most interesting story I've ever heard.

Jogger Guy: She was okay though, she just got up and walked back to the other side of the street.
Lazy Wife: They should post a sign there: SLOW DOWN! KAMIKAZE HENS IN THE AREA!

We had a great dinner across the street from our hotel, Beach Side Resort, I think? Supposedly, the chef is some famous guy from Miami. The food was amazing, and the service was great. But the restaurant was empty and the staff were all standing around with nothing to do. Me thinks Mr. Miami overestimated the demand for a high end restaurant here.
These are my feet. In a wave. On the Beach. I took about a hundred photos there.
This is me looking like a big dork on the Danger Tours Kayaking and Snorkeling trip we took. The ship was beautiful though.
I decided to stay in the boat with the food while G took to some freezing cold snorkeling. The water was clear for 6 or 7 feet, awesome.

Adventures in Key West

This pic was taken from the car while driving down US 1 through the Upper Keys. You would not believe the colors of the water. It was exhilarating.

We totally got busted trying to take my picture under the "Big Un's" bar sign by this guy who was all, "Why don't you both get in the picture and I'll take it for you!" Thanks, Random Picture Taker Guy!

Since Trip Advisor is the lifeblood of the Agrotourism Industry, I checked it out for suggestions on where to eat and what to do while in Key West. That is where we found this little gem of a breakfast nook. Note to All: If you are ever ever ever in Key West, you must eat here and if you don't get the Chocolate, Walnut, Banana pancakes I'll never speak to you again. Trust me, I know food.

This is me trying out features on the camera but also spying on the cruise ship people simultaneously. See how sneaky?

The day before we left we ventured as far south as Key West goes and found the Fort Zachary Taylor Park and Beach. It was beautiful, not crowded, and... There was a snack bar. People, snack bar, on the beach, whoa.

It's Not You, It's Me

I need something new. Spring is coming, winter is finally shuddering it's last ugly breath, and I am ready to start cleaning house! Hitherforetoafter, I am going to redesign the webpage. Well, not redesign in the sense that you'd need some sort of design ability, just change the pictures and colors a bit and easy stuff like that.

My other Springtime Resolution is to add more pictures to the site. I was always a picture book kinda gal, and things haven't changed all that much. Plus, some things that have been going on lately need to be shown to you instead of described. (i.e. the large growth on my stomach and the awesomely cute things my amazing friends and family keep giving me.)

So fear not! The weather it is a'changin' and bringing new pretty web pictures with it. Weeeeee! Can you feel it? No, not that. The wind, Sicko.