Living in a political world…

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So, after our chat with Congresswoman Whatsherface last night, I told Gene I was going to write in Stephen Colbert for Congress instead of voting for Ms. Whatsherface. “Can I do that?” I asked Gene.

“Yeah, you can probably write in anyone for any office.”

“Awesome! Stephen Colbert for Dogcatcher!”

“Watch out, he might win that one.”

“So?”

“I don’t think he wants to be Cheesecake City Dogcatcher!”

“Maybe, but then he’ll have to come here to meet the loony voter(s) who voted him in as dogcatcher and then I can get him to autograph my Stephen Colbert Doritos.”*

(*not likely because I tend to eat the Doritos and then huff the yummy leftover cheese dust)


Can I tell you something, internet?

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I love my Mac. I love that I can have two documents open at the same time and can scroll through either one, even the non-“dominant” one. Love it. I love that my mouse was a pain in the ass and all it took was 20 minutes at the Genius Bar for me to walk out with a brand spanking new mouse – yes, for free (hell, the damn thing was 2 months old – I either wanted a new mouse or my money!). Wowsers.

Love it so much that I almost kinda sorta wish that I’d bought the MacBook Air instead. (Damn you Jon Stewart for having one on the anchor desk on the Daily Show!)


Cheap Entertainment

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So, apparently there’s an election coming up. I know this because we got a call in the midway of a “telephone town hall” with someone running for Congress (?). We all have the chance to ask her questions. The questions have so far been HYSTERICAL – half have been 80 year old ladies calling in to vent about illegal immigrants receiving welfare. The last caller is NOT a fan of this Congresswoman and spent his question talking about how much he hates her.

Well, you know what this tells us – clearly the Congresswoman doesn’t have some campaign flunky screening her calls. And you know what’s going on now… we’re in the queue to ask a question. I’ve already talked Gene into and then out of just shouting (Howard Stern-style) “Baba Bouey”. I thought the next plan was to ask her something like, “Hey, I’m new to the country, how do I get some welfare?” but apparently Gene is really going to ask her thoughts on the Fair Tax.

No matter what, there are a LOT of ignorant people in Cheesecake State. Some of them vote.




and today’s sponsor

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of “Elaine Lunchtime WiFi” is the Staples a few miles from the office.

Thank you Staples!!

All is OK in Cheesecake City although yesterday’s 3 hour long payroll meeting was a real PITA while cramping like a mofo. I tell you – men, look away! – there is no period like a Clomid period. Then again, maybe I was just missing out all those years I was gloating and apparently not ovulating.

Gene returns home tomorrow.



Life (in a nutshell)

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(Okay, a really BIG nutshell – like I can ever be short winded about ANYTHING?)

So I was in a panic about an hour ago because I am down to only 5 home pregnancy tests in my arsenal. Target didn’t close until 9, so :: phew :: up to 8 tests again. I really wish they had more of the clearenced Target brand tests because those were soooo cheap last year.

You know, you really only need ONE. It’s just making sure it’s right one (i.e., one that says “Hell yeah!”)

The Clomid Pony has officially done a number on me. (We can’t blame buying more tests on it, though). So far today I nearly cried leaving Target (Clomid had me feeling all “woe is me” just because someone’s exwife has been pregnant THREE TIMES and, well you know…), I totally burst into tears in the first 10 minutes of the Sex & the City movie (which, weeping aside was so so so good), and I’m pretty sure I literally gave God the finger on my way out of the mini mart, where I went to look for Hostess cupcakes.

That last one was wrong in so many ways, the least of which is the lack of Hostess cupcakes (not even the Mexican off brand!).

Anyway – did I tell you this? – the results on Friday were actually good. My progesterone was good and high, suggesting that I probably did ovulate (which is good to know since I would have done that a WEEK AGO) and I probably escaped this cycle of Clomid cyst-free (echhh, but, woot!). I saw the midwife, not Dr. P (which is fine with me – here I go tempting fate again – because if I manage to get pregnant and have a low risk pregnancy I totally want her to deliver Plan B).

The midwife gave me the Stupidest Advice Ever: “Don’t test until Day 32!” (Seriously?? I have an arsenal and she thinks I’m going to wait another WEEK?)

RIGHT. As if, lady. I made it as far as yesterday (two tests) and so far nothin’.

But I guess that explains why I had to go to Target.

Stupid Clomid.