Remember me, I used to live for music…

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Ugh.

It’s happened.

I’ve become one of THOSE people.

Those people who have NO CLUE about who a current song is by. It used to be that I could name the artist, song title, album title and in some cases record label of every video on VH-1.

But now I only know songs if they’ve been in commercials (and who doesn’t like that 1234 song from the iPod commercial?). And not even then. Gene and I have finally begun to catch up on this season of How I Met Your Mother and I recognized the song at the end of one of the episodes. (Which epsiode? We watched 5 of them in a row). I think I saw the video for the song the last time I watched VH-1 (probably over the summer).

This is really becoming obnoxious. I think Sirius needs a station called “Music for Soccer Moms” because it’s probably on there. (Actually, that’s a good idea….maybe I should listen to a Sirius station other than First Wave and see what happens).

Ooh, speaking of music….guess what I got to do today (yes, I had to work :PPP)? I got to change the Muzak from The Fucking Christmas Music Station. (So far it’s the best thing to happen to me at work since winning $500 in March). Anyway, after I finished changing the station I walked back into my department singing “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” (And I wonder why New Boss hates me?)



Oh, stupid me…

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So I wanted to make sure we got the same level of Xmas gifts for my BIL and his wife. Gene and his brother are going out on the town (dinner, probably cigars) while we’re up north in December/January so I suggested to Gene that SIL and I go get our nails done during the day (so that way we can all trade taking care of their two boys). Gene of course inflated that to “spa day and lunch.”

And now I’m all anxious. I can’t imagine that anyone would want to spend valuable, precious time away from responsibility with me. Ugh, fuckadoodle. I usually wouldn’t want to spend time with myself as it is. I feel like such a dumbass for even suggesting this. My first instinct was a nice cashmere sweater (I am simply dying to give someone the gift of cashmere – I blame it on all the Lands End coupon codes this Xmas season).

(Oh, and don’t get your hopes up. To date, I have purchased zero cashmere sweaters).

Gene’s right – I am a total Eeyore “It’ll probably rain anyway” type of girl. Gahh.


An official bad sign…

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…is when you look at your blog and don’t remember writing a post. Hee hee, glug glug.

I didn’t mention it in the original post, but my Christmas Bonus Calendar is personalized with my employer’s name. The joke at work is that we’re impressed that the calendar itself is really for 2008, not some sort of clearanced calendar from whenever the dates would have been all the same.


Boned by the Bonus

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Remember when I wondered a few days ago about a Christmas bonus and how Ihoped it would not be a gift card for our company? Because that was so cheap of them?

Well, I don’t know (Christmas miracles and all), but I think I have received my Xmas gift from the company this year.

A calendar. Yes, really. A plain jane calendar. And here I thought nothing could be worse than the 3 straight years of dopey clothing items (fleece jacket, polo shirt and twin set with cmpan logyo).

Ugh, can no longer spell. Night.


Mah Xmas is Heeeere!

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My big eBay purchase arrived recently (FINALLY). Wednesday, I think. Today we finally opened it. (I know, how much self discipline do *I* have???). It is….mmmm….gorgeous. Love it. If only Plan B were here because then he could ride in it.

(I told you the big eBay purchase was baby gear, right?)

(And I told you that I don’t want to hear “Did you learn nothing from buying three wedding gowns, Elaine?”, right? Fine, I DIDN’T learn a thing.)

Anyway, I have had almost an entire glass of wine and since I am such a lightweight I am tooootally feeling it. This is one of the few times I am so pleased I am not currently pregnant.  (Trust me. I’m not)

Mmm, lovely white wine.

ETA: Gene just pured me second glass. Perhaps I should open baby stuff store, not have actual baby. I will ignore that all 5 of you are shouting “DUH”


(Plan) “B” is for “Bahhh”

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So, I am a poster on a message board for women taking Clomid and Metformin and I say a lot on that board that I don’t say here (let’s get real – does my father need to know about the latest on my progesterone levels? does anyone, really?)

(That said, I should have the results of Wednesday’s appointment sometime tomorrow. I’m hoping for a big # but expecting mediocrity. Anything over either 15 or 20 is good news).

But there’s a lot to say that I can’t say there, either. Mostly because I can’t curse on BabyCenter. (I mean, they call sex “babydancing”, barf). So here’s the latest: last Wednesday I had a blood sample taken to be tested for progesterone. The good news is that my dr. feels that I did not suffer from any of Clomid’s more nefarious side effects (particularly, cysts). That is good news.

I guess I just feel frustrated. And I know I think too much about it all. I stuck my head in my bedside table today to confirm that I actually have 10 pregnancy tests, just waiting for me. Fuckadoodle. Who in their right mind has 10 of them? Why can’t I just be the normal girl who runs to Walgreens and buys one a month? (I used 6 the first time. Six.) Why can’t I just be the normal girl who says, Ehh, it’ll happen when it happens? Why can’t I just be the normal girl who says “Fuck! Really??” before turning back to the little white stick to confirm, humm, yess, that is indeed two lines (or two dots, or a smiley face, or ‘baby…baby…pirate?’ like on the Simpsons)?


Not that you asked…

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but I really really have to pee.

We’re getting more life insurance on me (yes, I will be worth way more dead than alive) and today’s the day the nurse lady comes to take bodily fluid samples and ask delightful questions about my entire health history. I may make it a two-fer aned take an ovulation predictor test (why waste when I have so many tests? LOL).

On the bright side, at least I’m not at work. Hooray!

 ETA: And then the nurse lady never showed. UGH. How RUDE. Gene thinks maybe he wrote down the wrong day (argh) so “we’ll try again tomorrow.” Which is perfect since I don’t have a day job with a demanding boss (mooo) who needs me to make up time away. Or something like that.


Elsewhere on the Internet…

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So I finally caught myself up on the thread on BabyCenter for girls taking Clomid and Metformin like I am. I’ve been slacking off from reading over there for about a week.

FIVE of them just announced they’re pregnant. WOW.

Gene says that I can’t get pregnant because the other girls are hogging the babies and that I have to wait for the queue to fill back up. LOL.


Happy Christmas, yer arse…

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Since my copy of the video went kaput when the DVR was replaced, I’m posting this here. And plus, it’s an Xmas song, and plus plus I sure do love Kirsty. (for the uninitiated, the YouTube link is to a copy of the video for “Fairytale of New York,” an acceptable Xmas song by The Pogues feat. Kirsty MacColl. The song contains the line I used in the title, I’m really not THAT bad).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltiY-BqvOIU&rel=1]