I am so fucking hot and sick.

I usually try not to post my sad-sack rants or reveal the true depths of my instability here. But man, do I feel like shit. My kid is screaming in his bedroom but it's time to go to bed, god dammit. I am completely intolerant to heat anyway, but when I'm pregnant and puking things are about six times worse. My weight has dipped below 140 for the first time in over a year. Usually I'd be thrilled about this, especially considering that mid-April saw me heading for 160 at lightning speed. Unfortunately, I'm trying really hard to keep another human being alive in there. I still look fat, too, except for the fact that my hip area is concave compared to the rest of me. Supposedly you lose weight there last of all (anorexics keep starving themselves due to the "big hips", and when the last of the fat melts from the area, they die), but I seem to lose weight in this order: hips, ass, face (all at once), then back and thighs, then arms, then boobs, THEN tummy. So of course my new doctor wasn't going to be concerned. He was just like, this should be over in a few weeks. I HAVE PROBABLY KEPT DOWN NO MORE THAN 32 OUNCES OF FOOD IN THE PAST TWELVE WEEKS. Is anyone concerned about this? My dad whined balls yesterday because I didn't come see him on Father's Day. It didn't matter that I spent the day with my head alternately in the toilet and on a pillow. No no. NOBODY APPRECIATED HIM ON FATHER'S DAY. Waaaah waaaaah. You can tell from this that he's certainly the kind of guy who DESERVES appreciation, right? I'm just so sick of people. It's such a load that people "care" for me. They don't. They don't! With the exception of my husband (and my in-laws, who don't really give a shit one way or the other, but are kind to me for their son's sake, and so they can see their grandkids, and probably so they won't go to hell when they die), there is no one in my real, tangible, day to day life who really gives a shit about me. It's all about what I can DO for them. My mom can't watch my kid for two hours in a real emergency situation, but I'm supposed to drop everything to babysit my brother (who, if he was parented correctly in the first place, wouldn't need a babysitter at 14) when she suddenly HAS to go help one of her biker friends. My dad doesn't want to call or visit me, but he gets all bitchy when *I* don't call or visit him. Hell, even my own toddler only hugs me so he can take the cookie from my hand. Which is okay cause I'd probably just puke it up anyway if I ate it.

i've been spending at least 6 hours of every day caring for a very small, needy, careless, hapless person when it's a serious effort for me to get out of my bed, or get across a room. I need a mommy of my own. I need someone to make me some damn food when I know that I need some, but if I get out of bed I'm going to ralph all over the place before I pass out facedown on the stovetop. I also need a fucking baby gate that's not from the 1980's, or a lot of money so I can carpet the stairs so it doesn't hurt so badly when Tristan falls down them. (A lot of money because in order to carpet the stairs, we have to carpet the upstairs of our house, too. Right now it's all plywood, particle board and poorly pounded nails.) It would also be nice if we could turn on the damn central air, but it's only in half of the house, so we have to wait until we put the window a/c in the front, which we did not do this weekend. And a babysitter. A reliable one who isn't a fucking redneck piece of shit or a kid-hitter or a lets-their-kid-hit-other-kids-er. So that I can fucking get better.

Three States Battling Monkeypox Outbreak

MADISON, Wis. - A virus similar to smallpox apparently jumped from pet prairie dogs to at least four people — possibly dozens — in the disease's first appearance in the Western Hemisphere.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (news - web sites) said Saturday the prairie dogs likely were infected with the virus by a giant Gambian rat, which is indigenous to Africa, at a Chicago-area pet distributor.

The prairie dogs were sold by a Milwaukee animal distributor in May to two pet shops in the Milwaukee area and during a pet "swap meet" in northern Wisconsin, the CDC said.


Waaah, waaah, waaah.... I think it goes without saying that anyone who buys a PET PRAIRIE DOG at a SWAP MEET deserves anything Darwinism can throw at him, Social or otherwise.

Tortlex 2 update: THEY HAVE MR. BEAN'S TEDDY. I have one of these, and it is GOLDEN. Get 'em before they're gone, people... only $16!!!

For the gifters: I do NOT have the keychain version. And I do collect keychains. Ask anyone.

P.S. As a die-hard hater of technological advances like new operating systems (I'll use Windows ME till the day I die, thank you very much, and I'd probably still insist on 3.1 if it wasn't for my mom forcing us to upgrade back in '95) and photo printers that you just pop a SmartMedia card into (Jesus Christ, people, is it that fucking hard to upload the pictures to your hard drive? [Parenthesis inside a parenthesis - Apparently, it IS: there are THREE people in my husband's family, all under the age of thirty, who have thousands of pictures on their cameras and have yet to figure out how to upload them, YEARS later. Fuck it, I'm not their babysitter.])

Now what was I saying? Oh yes. This new blogger interface sucks and can blow me. What was wrong with the old one? There weren't enough pictures for the tards who shouldn't be using computers anyway? Fuck them.

Visit my pregnancy blog for (not very) detailed descriptions of my bowel behavior and ER visit.

In other news: Girls, for all your very-cute-stuff needs, I bring you Tortlex2. It has the weirdest name, but the coolest Sanrio, San-X, Disney, Spirited Away (Louis, I'm looking in your direction... oh wait, I said girls, didn't I.), Sesame Street, CardCaptors, Paul Frank.... yadda yadda, if you like it, they have it. Go shop!! (But before you buy anything for our little soon-to-be birthday girl Gwen, make sure you consult me first. That is all.)

And if you don't buy me the plush Pucca that I want so badly there, please know that if I do not acquire this DENIM HELLO KITTY WITH THE GINGHAM OUTFIT, I *will* fucking die. No, for real. August 15, baby - start your birthday shopping now. ;)