Moving...

You know when your husband writes this on your moving boxes, it's time to re-evaluate your choice of whether or not to go on meds... (see previous post for Exhibit A)

The Terminator

"I think you might be giving birth to the Terminator" Ashley says.

"What do you mean?" I ask as I slowly count down from 10 in order lower my skyrocketing blood pressure from thoughts of my latest confrontation with a perfect stranger.

"Well it just seems that you are a little feistier than usual since you have been pregnant." I can tell he is being careful with his words, which makes me want to hit him upside the head with my Route 44 Diet Coke.

"Well it just so happens that everyone I have encountered in the last 3 months has been a complete and total asshat, so sue me if I feel the need to call them out on it." Vengeance is mine!!

"You made a customer service rep cry." He says dryly, like it was my fault she was born in Kurdistan and couldn't speak English. Here's a tip: if you are calling Americans, know how to say at least 3 words in English. "And I thought you were going to end my life because I painted a room with the wrong paint" he continues.

"I wasn't going to end your life." Ok, so it crossed my mind, but I counted down from 500 and was fine, like, 4 hours later.

"I'm just saying, maybe you should think about taking it down a notch and try relaxing a bit." He says cautiously.

"Yeah, maybe you're right." I reply, while thinking of 6 ways to disembowel him for making such a ridiculous accusation. Call me crazy, but at that moment I could have swore I heard a slight voice coming from my midsection echoing "I'll be back."

"You're pregnant... in a bar!"

I had my first "Sweet Home Alabama" moment this week when my single sister coaxed me into a bar at 4 months pregnant. She lured me in with the promise of fried pickles and french fries (in my defense, Jesus himself would not be able to resist this deadly combo) and that's when I found myself surrounded by 16,000 men watching March Madness and drinking Bud. That night I discovered Mandi's life lesson #1,472: telling strange men at a bar that you are pregnant is likened to telling them that you have a third nipple. So I decided to have some fun with it and started warning them to "Just Say No to one night stands- it's not worth it!" (My campaign slogan would be- If you're gonna love, put it in a glove.) And then rub my belly and sigh for dramatic effect. So needless to say, my single sis and her skinny girlfriends sat around not eating and drinking their wine, looking especially single and sophisticated while I sat by myself surrounded by plates of sausage and cheese, fried shrimp, and of course... fried pickles. And I was the happiest person in the room.

A Thief in the Night

I was in the shower this morning during my usual routine. I placed my bra, underwear and pajamas on the side of the bathtub as I usually do. However when I got out of the shower, I couldn't find my bra or my shirt. That's strange, I thought. But then maybe I didn't put it there after all. So I search my drawer, my closet, my room. Nothing. This isn't the first time it's happened. I have missed dishrags, socks, and even shoes- thinking I have lost my mind. Until I looked under my bed and found this...

Yep, that is 3 pair of shoes, a bra, 3 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, 6 dishrags, a bone, a rope toy, and a pair of shorts. ALL UNDER MY BED. How could such a thing as this happen??

Meet Dingo. The Culprit.

Apparently Dingo has been building a bomb shelter under our bed that we had no idea about. I don't know if he is the smartest dog on earth, or the most retarded. I am leaning toward the latter.

It's Official...

I am officially showing. Do I have a big bump? you ask. Oh yes, but it just so happens that I am the first woman to carry her fetus in her ass. Hence the big bump, or rather as some may call it, the Shelf Butt. Just the other night I was able to free up my hands and carry my drink on my backside. I would post a picture but thought some of you might get turned on, and others offended, so I thought better of it. I am thinking of auditioning for the next 50 Cent video before I deliver and it all goes south (literally)... it's like I've always said, Mama's gotta work!