Still Alive...and Slightly Irritated...
Hi everyone! I want you all to know that I did not fall off the face of the Earth. The new Stampin' Up! year has me pretty busy. The cool thing is that I've actually had time to play with new stuff in addition to the workshops we've been having. The other thing I've been busy with is selling our pool. I was so excited to buy the house with the pool...but it's a ton of freaking work...so we sold it. Things with the baby are going super...I'm still the most unpregnant person in the world...I look the same...I feel the same...it's pretty nice! I go to the doctor on August 2nd...and it can't come soon enough! I know I'm far enough along (18 weeks) to find out the sex...and the suspense is KILLING ME! And now, to the topic of today's post:
Five Ways to Piss Me Off
1. Drive 12 mph on Main Street...where the speed limit is 35 mph. And just for the record, I'm fairly certain that there is no where on the face of this whole planet where the speed limit is 12 mph. I do have to hand it to you, though, you sure are a consistent driver...one would think that you had your cruise control set at 12 mph the way you went that freaking slow for over six blocks.
2. Start a sentence with "what you need to do is". Because, quite frankly, that makes me have violent thoughts. These thoughts sound something like, "what you need to do is shut the hell up because I'm not listening to one damn word coming out of your mouth for the duration of this conversation." I'm 24 stinking years old and don't need anyone telling me what I need to do...unless you're a doctor or nurse in the delivery room while I'm birthing a child...then you can boss me around all you want...and I'll listen...I promise.
3. Don't answer your call waiting...when you have caller ID...and you KNOW that it's me...and less than five minutes ago I said, "I'll call you right back." Don't you understand how absolutely irritating this is? I hope that when I'm in labor I don't have to call and say, "Oh, I called you over two hours ago to tell you...but you were on the other line...I could tell by the way it rang and rang...must've been someone more important than me that you were talking to." For the record: there is no one more important than me...I have your grandchild in my stomach. (Love you!)
4. Ask me "Are you showing yet?" when I'm standing right in front of you. Look at my belly. Decide for yourself if I'm showing...or just fluffy in the belly area. The problem I have with this question is that I don't think I'm showing...I think it's just belly fluff...but Larry thinks it's the baby. So, the answer I wanted to give you was, "My husband thinks I am...but I think it's just fat. What do you think?" Luckily for you I decided to spare you further embarrassment.
5. Loudly ask me, "Are you wearing your fat pants?" First of all, they would be maternity pants. Second of all, just because I know that you know I'm preggo, doesn't mean that everyone in the bank...all of whom have turned around to stare at me...know what you're talking about. The other thing...you don't have to ask me every freaking day. I'm 18 weeks along now...assume that for the duration of my pregnancy I'll be wearing my fat pants...unless I come in dressed in a garbage bag.
