MapQuest Called, They Want My Boobs Back.

There are lots of things people tell you about pregnancy. Like the first time you feel that sweet little kick, or the horrible morning sickness, or even those crazy mood swings. However, many fail to tell you what happens above Ground Zero when you venture to the mounds resting due North. I discovered this hidden revelation when I was getting into the shower just the other morning and found that I could locate Utah on my left breast. Startled, I took a closer look because I was sure my eyes were deceiving me. Only when I got closer, not only did I see Utah, but I could see the capital city (unfortunately, Capital names were not listed on my breasts) lined with red and blue lines of surrounding interstates. And if that wasn't bad enough, browned biscuit-sized saucers invaded what used to be called nipples (sorry Dad if you are reading this). Sure, I know what some of you are going to say- this is a beautiful process the pregnant body goes through when the veins in your breasts expand in order to prepare for the feeding of your precious infant. Save it, because I'm not interested. I miss the days when I could boast proudly of veinless, perky boobs, proportionate nipples, and dignity in knowing that if my shirt happened to blow open on a windy day (or for some beads in New Orleans on Mardi Gras) that I could hold my head (and chest) up high and shout "Whoo Hoo! Boobies!"
But sadly, those days have come to a close and all I have left is a couple of lumpy maps that I never even learned how to read.

Thanks alot Mother Nature.

Mandi

'Naders and Tater Tots...

I should have been a storm chaser. Not because I love storms, but because they obviously love me. So I would like to formally apologize to Nashville for the recent storms, I have not been back in Nashville a week and they are already lurking close behind. I try to be cautious in storms and this one was no different. So there I am huddled in my downstairs bathroom complete with Buddy Lee (a.k.a. the best dog in the world), a flashlight, bottled water, trail mix (mama's hungry), a portable radio, and my cell phone with FEMA on speed dial- just in case. I can hear the wind flailing outside and the hail beating against the window and peek around to the back window and see that my little fence is about to give it up at any minute. Then the phone rings. It's Dana, my sister. I assume she is wanting to come and seek shelter since she lives on a 2nd floor condo, so of course I answer the phone. "Hey," I answer, "you calling to come over? The sirens are going off and it's saying that we are under a Tornado Warning right now- you better hurry if you are coming over." "No," she says casually, " I was about to go to Sonic and wanted to know if you wanted anything. Do you?" Wait a tick. What did she just say? "Wait, what? The Sonic in Nolansville? Dana, there is a Tornado warning there RIGHT NOW." "I know, but I want a Diet Coke so bad, I guess if you see someone twirling in the air you'll know it's me. So do you want something?" She is obviously out of her mind...butI am kinda hungry, and since she is willing to risk her life for a diet coke, why not make it worthwhile with a burger and fries too? "You're (freakish) loyalty to the Sonic Fountain Drinks should really be noted and possibly rewarded. Ok fine, get me a burger and fries... and a large Diet Coke." Before anyone starts to lecture about letting my sister out in the storm, let me tell you, there was NO WAY she would be deterred from a Sonic Diet Coke mission, like I said, freakish loyalty. She shows up 20 minutes later soaked head to toe at my door step holding two large Diet Cokes and a bag of burgers. I couldn't help but laugh; she might be insane, but at least she is considerate.


On a serious note, the storms in Murfreesboro were tragic and my thoughts go out to those who lost their homes and/or loved ones.

"Ode to the Subway Cookie"

Oh Chocolate Chip Cookie
So soft and and so round,
With your chips melting in the middle
And your edges ever so slightly brown.

I just finished my turkey sandwich
Ok, maybe some jalepeno chips too,
And because I did so well with my choices
I needed a little reward or two.

I should have chosen the apples
Or maybe the yogurt with berries of blue,
But oh! Cookie with your Chips of Chocolate
I wish I could quit you.

The End.

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.