But I deleted it because it was a bit too... personal.
But basically I was feeling bitter about being home, alone, with a baby, all day, every day, without an end in sight.
I was also complaining about not getting any help and how crappy it is when someone comes home with lunch but didn't ask if I wanted anything. That tends to suck.
We are supposed to be going to the trailer. But Mike is off doing something. I swear to God, if he could go a week without doing something for somebody I think I'd die of shock.
What am I talking about? I don't even believe in God...
But I do believe in Spanx...
I got a Brazilian today. First one since before Carter was born. It's such a horrible, painful, embarrassing experience. But somehow, it's just so worth it. Who wants to deal with pubic hair? Seriously? I hate the stuff. I was watching a documentary about the Vagina Monologues a couple of weeks ago and I was totally into it until the broad starting off on this "You can't love the vagina unless you love its hair!" And I was like fuck off. Women who opt to go au naturel, I believe, are just lazy. Or they hate having sex. Or they like having a stinky skitter. Because honestly, I heard this somewhere, pubic hair only makes our skitters smelly, because waaaay back int he day the stinky skitter attracted horny cavemen and that's how we got babies. And that's also how we got our saber tooth tiger roasts on the table every Sunday. It was hairy manipulation.
But it's 2010. It's time to get that area taken care of regularly. It feels so clean and much less scary without wiry disgusting hair everywhere. I am quite firm on this subject. So as uncomfortable as they whole experience is (a pap smear times 20) it is worth it. So very worth it. Anyway, I digress. I can't believe how long I can go on about pubes.
So. I have been thinking about the family dog that I plan on getting us as soon as Carter gets through crawling and putting everything in his mouth. Here are my picks:
Chihuahua (sweater must be included), Basset hound or Bloodhound (who would have to be named Ladybird, just on principle).
I think we'll end up getting a Basset because there's a Basset rescue in the area. And they are adorable couch potatoes, so he would fit right in.
We will call him Virgil
mum jams: Panic Attack - The Paddingtons
