March Madness

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**DISCLAIMER – If you aren’t interested in the upcoming college basketball slice of heaven, or sports in general, please move along. Also, you SUCK and should get your ass kicked.**

**DISCLAIMER #2 – I might be experiencing extremely elevated pregnancy hormones at the moment.**

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you already know I love sports. But did you know it’s the one thing that causes me to be completely discriminatory and bitchy? Oh yeah. When I receive comments such as, “Gee, you and my husband would get along famously because I just don’t get the whole sports thing!” I don’t laugh and shrug my shoulders. I yell profanities at my computer and make fun of you for at least 5 minutes with my husband.

But really, I’m a nice girl! Don’t leave! You’re leaving aren’t you? Well, fuck you. I mean, I like your hair! It’s the pregnancy hormones, I swear!

Back to my point- I can feel it. The anticipation building in my stomach for the past few days (whoorlito, is that you?). And in less than 5 hours, I will have my beloved NCAA tourney bracket to study and covet for the next month. I would frame it, like the amazing work of art it is, but no golden-gilded frame could do it justice. March Madness is immeasurably wonderful in my book. The close games, the overtime, the school spirit, I love it all. Even Dick Vitale’s enthusiastic voice makes a regular appearance in my dreams. This is in contrast to the dream I had last night in which my co-worker sold me into white slavery. We clearly need to have a “chat” when I see him next week. Ahem.

It really is no wonder that my closest girlfriends love college basketball and sports in general. I don’t think I could carry on conversations with people during March that didn’t include statements like “Did you see the winning three-point shot last night? DAMN!” These ladies are crucial to my sanity considering I live in Southern California, the land of non-sports fans. Case in Point- a certain anonymous person with the initials SAJ* (oops, is that too much information?) made an unannounced visit to my home during the Super Bowl. The SUPER BOWL, people. That is utter blasphemy where I come from, but hey, it’s Southern California. It’s all about oceans and beaches and natural beauty. The Super Bowl? What’s that?

It’s hard to describe my feelings regarding the differences between sports fans and non-sports fans. I guess it rivals the whole Mac/PC issue- we can all live in harmony, but do we really understand each other? I think not. I’ve attempted to determine the major reasons why people gravitate towards sports, and have come up with my foolproof checklist. If all three describe you and you still hate sports, you are an alien mutation (and I would like to know what “major university” you attended).

1) Grew up in the South
2) Raised by sports fans
3) Attended a major university with a good sports program

Now that I have effectively alienated 80% of my readers, I feel comfortable enjoying the rest my Sunday. It’s time for the Duke/Boston College ACC Championship followed by my Alma Mater and Texas fighting it out in the Big 12 Championship. Go Jayhawks!

*SAJ- I forgive you only because you were raised in California and I got to see Baby Bug. ;)

**I would like to point out for the record; I am in no way a tomboy. I could literally talk about lip gloss for hours- right, Stacy? It IS possible to love purses, cosmetics, shoes AND sports.



COMMENTS (10)

Huh?

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It must be the end of the world because it is HAILING OUTSIDE, y’all.

I know, I know…what’s the big deal? Hail Smail. And trust me, growing up in Oklahoma, I’m all too familiar with lovely hailstorms. BUT PEOPLE, I am 5 minutes from the ocean. This shit does not happen around here. All of my neighbors are looking around in utter bewilderment…this is definitely as close as we get to snow.

Screw the snow angels. Hail angels, here I come! WOOT!

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COMMENTS (7)

How did THAT happen?

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This weekend was chock-full of pregnancy-related clumsiness. I think I dropped items/tripped/ran into various pieces of furniture about 53 times. And as much as I luh-huve my husband, he has that uncanny ability to totally piss me off when these events occur. His favorite question is “How did THAT happen?” and I’m pretty sure the utterance of this phrase over the weekend outnumbered Jon Stewart’s cracks on the Three 6 Mafia last night during the Oscars.

Case In Point #1- Saturday, 9:00am

D – I think I’m going to make a fried egg on an English muffin. How does that sound to you?

Me- YUMMY! Yes, I want one- thanks, honey.

(D makes his egg and puts his English muffin in the toaster oven. Which by the way, Mr. Toaster Oven-Inventor, you rock the casbah.)

Me- Why don’t you eat yours while it’s hot, and I will make my own.

D- Ok, thanks.

(cue I Love Lucy theme song – I attempt to grab an egg, but the shell is literally adhered to the egg carton. As I try to remove it, the shell cracks and yolk flies everywhere, including over the carton and other eggs)

Me- SHIT! DAAAAMN IT.

D- (looking oh-so-condescending) Hmmm, how did THAT happen?

Me- I DON’T KNOW! THE SHELL WAS STUCK TO THE CARTON! I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT! YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME? LOOK! I CAN’T GET THE REMAINING SHELL OUT! DO YOU SEE? HUH?

D- Uh, ok. Relax.

Me- Ok, moving along. Oh look, this egg pops out so easily. Why did I have to pick the shitty egg? Why is my life so unlucky? WHHHYYYYYY?

(I start to fry the egg, put my English muffin in the toaster oven, and proceed to clean out the egg carton and remaining eggs)

D- What’s that smell? Is something burning?

(English muffin is literally on fire in the toaster oven)

Me- DAMMIT!

D- Hmmm, how did THAT happen?

Me- I DON’T KNOW! I PUT IT IN THE TOASTER ON THE NORMAL SETTING AND POOF, IT CATCHES FIRE! YOU ACT LIKE I DO THIS SHIT ON PURPOSE!

D- Well, it is kind of odd…and by the way, you really should try to cut back on your cussing. We have a baby on the way.

Me- I HATE YOU!

D- I think I am going to eat my breakfast in the other room…

Me- FINE!

Case In Point #2 – Saturday, 2:30pm

(I attempt to pull the mega-jar of green olives out of the refrigerator and drop it on the travertine floor)

BAM!

D- What was that?

Me- Uh, I tried to get the olives out of the fridge and they fell on the floor.

D- Hmmm, how did THAT happen? Did they break?

Me- I don’t know…they were slippery? The jar is fine. Sorry.

D- Yep.

Case In Point #3 – Sunday, 3:00pm

(we are putting clean sheets on the bed in lovely married fashion, although I’m not allowed to put the pillowcases on D’s pillows because I don’t do it the proper way. Don’t ask.)

BAM! (Direct TV remote control falls on the wood floor and breaks apart)

D- What was that?

Me- I dropped the remote on the floor.

D- Hmmm, how did THAT happen?

Me- (sighing a defeated sigh) Dude, I don’t know. Suck a fat one. I’m going to watch the Oscars.



COMMENTS (12)

Whoorlito Update

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We had our 18-week ultrasound yesterday afternoon, and whoorlito is doing excellent. Heart looks good, organs look good, bacon tastes goood, pork chops taste goood, etc. But the boy just wasn’t cooperating! He was beyond camera shy- all curled up, facing away from the ultrasound wand. Now, that is NOT indicative of my child. Maybe D’s child, but not mine.

Remember these ultrasound photos from 5 weeks ago?

Hello, there! Please take a gander at my darling profile. Have you seen my cute button nose? What about my cute belly? DAMN, I’M CUTE AND COZY!

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Oh, wait…you’re interested in my gender? Well, let me spread my legs as wide as possible so you can check out my package. How’s that for a hot dog? I’M PACKING HEAT!

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Naturally, when we had our appointment yesterday, we assumed whoorlito would be performing circus stunts for our viewing pleasure. Not so much. He must have been tired out from the Chipotle spicy salsa I made him eat for lunch. It took the ultrasound tech about 15 minutes to get a clear shot of his genitals to confirm the sex. He just would NOT open his legs to ensure the money shot. So freaking STUBBORN…wait, maybe he does take after his mom…

Finally, the legs parted, we confirmed it was a boy, and tried desperately to get a decent shot of his face/profile.

This was the best shot of the day.

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What’s that you ask? Hell if I know. Nah, actually it’s his precious yet alien-like face. I annotated to help out a little…

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GREETINGS OCEANIC FLIGHT 815 SURVIVORS, I COME FROM THE DHARMA INITIATIVE TO EAT YOUR YOUNG. DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY INTO MY ALIEN EYES OR I WILL TURN YOU INTO HOMOSAPIEN MUSH WITH ONE GAZE. MWAHH HAHAAAAA.

I guess what surprised me the most was his bone formation and size. The spine was incredible- you could see every little vertebrae. To think that just a month ago, he was pretty much a squishy cupie doll. And when the tech showed me his physical location in my stomach, with the head being on the lower left side of my abdomen and his feet ALL THE WAY OVER on the upper right side of my abdomen, I realized that this is really happening. And it blew me away. I can’t wait to meet this little man.

It’s official- a little belly has formed.

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COMMENTS (16)