This would be the reason why I haven't posted since June. Granted, he's only directly responsible for the span of time from end of September to this present blessed holiday season, but even in utero he was a handful. Meet Braden. He's my bubs.

Interesting...

I've been completely baffled by the staggering amount of people that have come out of the woodwork rooting for the Boston Celtics this NBA Finals series. And they aren't serious Boston fans... they're just Laker haters. But they're quite vocal on Facebook. And it drives me crazy.

Tonight, Boston got their asses handed to them in a beatdown in Lakerland. And it was awesome. And you know what I see a shocking lack of? Boston-centric comments from the Laker haters.

At least Laker fans talk about what happened, no matter how pissed off they are, and rally up for the next game.

Not the bandwagon, sudden NBA-lovin', Laker haters...

No way, no how, not ever...

So, I'm quietly relaxing on a Monday afternoon and I've been sucked into yet another one of those birth shows on some learning/science channel.

In this episode, as the mom is feet up and pushing the kid out... over the doctor's shoulder are her mom, dad, mother-in-law, sisters (!)... a freaking entourage.

And that brings me to my short, concise point- I'll be damned if someone other than my MD, the RN's, the Tall One and possibly a nursing student (gotta look out for my future co-workers) are going to be fixated on my crotch as I push out the next generation. Creepy. Weird.

Um, just...no.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

After the crappiest May I can remember, when the month decided to revert back to March idiocy, just in time for a holiday weekend (and in the middle of a string of shifts): upper 70's during the day and sunny.

I've seriously got to quit checking the weather reports on the days I have to sleep all day.

Acting "un-Christian" while leaving a "Christian" event...

There is "awesome", and then there is the exact opposite of "awesome". The exact opposite of "awesome" was on full, vulgar display Sunday night after a charity fundraiser.

Sunday night was the Northrise University Auction fundraiser, quite possibly the singlemost important fundraising event in which they raise a large portion of their yearly donations. Since Northrise is unabashedly a Christian university, various "Christian" type people were in attendance. Too bad they didn't leave the event.

Our friends, the Drs. Stone, have had a new car (new to them, not to the world) for less than a week. That night, it wouldn't start and the first and quickest thing to do is try to jumpstart it and see if that's the only problem. To jumpstart, one clearly needs jumper cables, so they set out in search of jumper cables. At an event of a few hundred people, someone had to have a set, right?

Wrong. See, these were mostly Newport Beach people in attendance. I don't like to stereotype people, not on humility or good conscience grounds, but selfishly because I'm trying to look less like a jerk. But stereotypes reared their ugly heads Sunday night so I have no choice. There truly is no other option.

First response to an inquiry of jumper cables, from Dr. Stone to a well-dressed young lady walking to her car:

Dr. Stone: Excuse me, miss, would you happen to have some jumper cables?

Well-dressed, sheltered and socially clueless young lady: If I spoke Spanish I would...

??????????????? WTF does THAT mean?!? I'll tell you what it means, it means sweetie needs to pull her head out of her ass and leave Newport Beach and go a little farther than Costa Mesa to experience the world (or to donate money to a Zambian university to appease her do-gooding conscience).

Second response to an inquiry of jumper cables, from the Drs. Stone's friend from Portland (a well educated, smartly dressed young woman) to a young couple walking to their car:

Portland dentist with a clue: Excuse me, do you by any chance have some jumper cables we could borrow?

Male member of couple that clearly has no automotive tendencies: *snort* No, why would I need those?

Portland dentist: Well, what would YOU do if you needed to jumpstart your car?

Male idiot: (condescendingly) I'd call Triple-A.

Honestly, I was pretty appalled at the responses of both parties. And what's with the attitude?!? A simple, "Sorry, no I don't, good luck" would've sufficed. As people leaving an event that draws people to give unselfishly from their hearts, apparently that selfless giving stops when it's your own neighbor in need and you exit the front doors.

To sweetie: I hope one day, just for your own enrichment, you are found someplace where you wish you spoke spanish because it would help you. And to the couple with Triple A- I hope one night, late, that your car breaks down and there is no mobile phone service.

Sigh, so much for not being a jerk...

Sweating to the emails.

I'm currently at our beach house, which is located in quite possibly the the only place we could ever afford a beach house- El Salvador. I've been down several times and pretty much know what to expect every time. Heat, humidity, beers in the pool.

Well, to my pregnant ass, it's unholy hot and humid and beers are still a figment of my beloved imagination for the next 5 months or so.

Things I would kill for after only 24hrs here:
-an industrial A/C for the bedrooms for the daytime.
-an on/off switch for the onshore breeze (off for when the guys surf, on for my sanity when they're not).
-a machine that COOLS the pool, because by midafternoon, it's a bath tub.
-ice.

But some cool highlights:
-floating in the pool and getting to lay on my stomach on a pool float.
-grilled cheese sandwiches.
-Getting a new A/C unit for the downstairs (you better work, you expensive piece of machinery...)
-eating mangoes from the tree while sitting at the built-in dining area in the pool.
-sleeping a combined 12hrs last night.
-Costco pizza for dinner.

But enough about my trip!!! Let's get to the REAL reason I would write from Central America!

While checking my junk mail this morning, I got an email from the Los Angeles Times with the subject reading: Why have we stopped sending you emails?

???

Um, you didn't. You just sent me one.

Honestly, whoever came up with that email campaign should be docked about $0.50 in pay because a little carefully applied logic and thought would've made the newspaper look a little less idiotic. But now, there's no way I'm renewing with them (even though I never subscribed in the first place?)- they don't use common sense. And as I've said in the past, so boldly and with shocking consequences, I don't do well with people that don't use common sense.

When idiots procreate.

I just came across the show, "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant." This show can otherwise be known as the finest example of denial, stupidity and ignorance that can be found on TV (besides "The Hills"). Plus the acting is just as bad.

How the hell does someone not know they're pregnant?!? As someone who DAILY couldn't forget if I wanted to, I'm not buying it. These women are high.

I want whatever it is they were smoking. It will make the next 24 weeks go MUCH faster and easier.

Ease up on the hos, alright, they're not responsible for EVERYTHING...

Hookers and hos, strippers and skanks get a bad rap, and not without good reason. But are they really to blame for seismic destruction?

According to an Iranian cleric, we can now add earthquakes as part of the fallout for immorality. STD's, broken marriages, unwanted pregnancies, gratuitous paparazzi crotch shots... and now earthquakes.

Now as you sit there reading the article, smugly thinking that you are not contributing to the tectonic terror as you sit in your skinny jeans and t-shirt, just realize that to this cleric, merely showing your hair underneath your headscarf or wearing tight clothes is enough to make the earth rock'n'roll. And that tank top you wore yesterday? That might be Bali's next catastrophic earthquake. The guilt.

At least we can now exonerate earth and volcanic gods, the ancient Japanese catfish Namazu, those eighty (or 4, small difference) elephants that support the earth and the animals that run rampant in caverns under the ground surface. They'll be happy to know that just the hos are to blame.

Beezus can't fail.

Let me preface this with the revelation that from here on out, the future terror of the world will be referred to as "Beezus". At happy hour (where else?!?) last week, while discussing the Tall One's curious knowledge of Judy Blume's books, we shifted to the Ramona Quimby books and when I said "Beezus", we howled with laughter and immediately christened the feh-tus Beezus. This also helps to avoid the following things:

- We have no idea what we're having and knowing the obstinence of both the parents, we're most likely not going to get a good shot at the ultrasound next week. Obstinence x obstinence = obstinence squared!

- We're also not revealing the name until the kid is breathing oxygen and not fluid into its lungs.

- I refuse to call the feh-tus by the name we choose until it's born. I have my reasons, and none of them make me sound like a very nice person.

All that being said, today I began Beezus' musical education. With The Clash. It was a quick decision.

There are so many bands that Beezus needs to listen to: U2, the Stones, Simon & Garfunkel, Coldplay, Cat Stevens, Jack Johnson, Led Zeppelin, Ben Harper... there are not enough hours in the day. So, I start with the Top 5, and go from there.

How can one not like The Clash?!? Not my offspring. I think things are off to a good start.

Party of five, we'll seat you in October...

Tonight was another lesson in "How to keep your mouth shut and not alienate total strangers."

Monday night is all-night happy hour at our favorite sushi place. It's a screaming deal and even incubating the future ruler of the free world can't keep me from going. I worked up an appetite and everything. To make matters more fun, we went with the Drs. Stone- who are always game for happy hour.

So the Tall One and I get there first. The patio is maybe a quarter full. Virtually empty. There are 3 high school-aged girls playing hostess and they ask, "Table for two?" I say, "No, four." Wrong answer.

Vapid #1 proceeds to tell us that unfortunately they can only seat full parties on the patio, but we could wait in the bar and they'd call us. Bear in mind, the place is maybe a quarter full and we are the ONLY people standing at the desk.

Since we eat there more often than we should, I know that all the patio tables are 4-tops. So, even if we had said "Party of two", we'd have gotten the same table. I really, really, REALLY wanted to ask this girl, "So, if I change my answer to 2, and people just happen to show up does that mean I lose the table? I mean, there's room. And it's not like people aren't going to NOT be seated. The only thing getting bumped are the crickets, seriously, your patio is empty." But she had this utterly clueless expression that comes from spending too much time at the beach and mall and not enough time in class, and she had that annoying stoner OC voice going. I then understood that any logical reasoning would be just lost on her.

So I hid my smile, sort of, and we waited for the rest of our party.

But here's my hypothetical situation for the night: say I'm one of those freakishly annoying people that refers to their unborn child like it's already a functioning member of society and was trying to be cute and told the hostess "Party of five"? And when I told her that the fifth was my fetus (ALWAYS pronounced FEH-tus, as far as the Tall One is concerned), I can see at least 2 of the following 3 things happening:

1) She laughed and went along with it and sat us

2) The last of her functioning neurons short-circuited and she was rendered unable to critically think for the remainder of her life

3) The joke would've totally missed her and she'd tell us she wouldn't be able to seat us until after my due date in October.

I'm almost positive only #2 and #3 are the only viable options...

I said, "Yeah!"

Since getting down with Lil' Wayne and T-Pain, I've rocked out to Led Zeppelin, did a dance for the dog to Mony, Mony, painted it black with the Stones and I'm waiting for the Clash to bless me with their music.

Seriously, either fear for my unborn child or be supremely jealous of its early, current and future musical education. Mama's gonna make sure only the best is heard...

If you got money, and you know it...

I HIGHLY recommend making chicken enchiladas to Lil' Wayne. Nuhhhhh...

This a way, that a way...

This post alone should make you seriously question my parenting skills.

Ladies and gents... your lawmakers, your tax dollars at work!

I'm staying out the health care fray, but I'll dabble my toes in the cesspool long enough to make fun of people. Shockingly.

Regardless of your elation or doom about the health care bill passage, just realize that it's people like this earning your tax dollars and voting bills into laws for us. Remember, he was VOTED into office.

Politics are fun, as long as you don't get too involved. Then it's just malicious and boring...

Facebook Opinion of The Day- 3/22/10

So, I nabbed this little quote from Facebook today, my favorite place to read other people's opinions while quietly smothering my own:

"I always wonder why Border Control is synonymous with Mexico/Mexican's? There just doesn't seem to be such opposition when European's enter."

I'll ignore egregious misuse of the apostrophe and skip to the point. Um, last time I checked, we didn't have millions of undocumented Europeans in this country tying up resources. It might have something to do with the fact that most European countries (at least the western ones, anyway) think the US are ridiculous and just come here to visit Disneyland, NYC and shop with the fab exchange rate. Their economies aren't in shambles nor are they teetering on the edge of a narco state (or in the dismal abyss, depending on your point of view). And maybe it has something to do with the fact that getting across the ATLANTIC OCEAN is slightly more daunting, expensive and necessitates an airplane or ship, unlike getting across a land border (excluding those that spend thousands on whatever they call people that you hire to sneak you across the desert in the middle of the night and then abandon you and leave you for dead). Lastly, I maybe should check an atlas (or my sarcasm, your call) but if I recall, we don't share a border with Europe. And since Canada is happy freezing their butts off up north while owning hockey, using "zed" for "z" and generally making fun of us- yes, border control does tend to encompass our friends to the south.

Until next time, when I discuss in 3 paragraphs or less the concept of "social responsibility", which is another term I saw a lot on FB today . It's a term people like to use so long as the finger of social responsibility is not pointing back at them.

I'm catching what you're sending? I think?

Is anyone else amused/confused/perplexed/creeped out when people say or write things like, "Sending strength/good vibes/love/joy/peace/patience/kindness/'anything else people feel like sending' your way?"

Maybe it's just my trademark cynicism, but most of the time, I'm pretty sure people already know they're loved. Wouldn't people more appreciate some prayer and intercession on their part? I mean, anyone can say "Sending love your way!" and throw it out there. But doesn't it take a little more commitment to say, "I'm praying for you today?"

Plus, what if your love gets intercepted by somebody else after you throw it out? What if the love you promised never reaches its intended recipient?!? It's like a love/joy/peace/patience/kindness/good times/strength steal!!! At least you know with prayers that there is only one Recipient and he gets the message every time...

True Story of My Nursing Life- #1

This morning, I told a neurosurgeon that his patient had "floaties" in his CSF. As if they were cookie crumbs in a toddler's apple juice, or something like that. He's not a jovial sort of fellow, but I'm pretty sure I got a snort out of him.

Once again, my job is done here.