Crazybananas

Just now, as I was taking the trash from my giant lunch that has made me unbutton the top button of the only pair of pants that seem to fit me, I walked past a collegue’s desk that has a TV above it. I clearly do not get a TV because everyone knows how easily I could be distracted by the thought of cable. So this TV had on Fox News and there was a car chase on it and it SOOOOO made me flash back to last year where I saw at least one daily car chase on Fox News at my old job where the equivilant of porn is watching a George W. Bush “Victory” speech.

First off, yes, a kitten did disappear. Yes, Molly could have eaten it. Though I tend to live in my little dream world where my horrible dog did not eat a defenseless kitten, but instead scared it and it is hiding somewhere no one can find it.

Second, I am starting to grow a bit. If Trent were here he would tell all of you that I’ve been growing this whole time and I’m just exaggerating on the newly aquired growth, but I would then tell him to be a quiet and obidient husband like we vowed. My FAVORITE (and pretty much only) good pair of jeans are beginning to become painful to wear. Boo.

I am also starting to think a bit more about this whole giving birth thing and how awfully scary it is and how even when I say to other mothers, “It’s not that bad, right” they all just roll there eyes or twitch nervously. Not a good sign.

Of course I’m basing all of my education on birthing this here baby on what my doctors and nurses and parents tell me, but mostly, I’m basing it on dooce. Why? Because she makes me feel like although this is really gonna suck, it will be totally worth it.

If she’s wrong, I will be understandably upset.

Today we’re heading off to good ole’ Yell, Tennessee. Yes, there is a place called Yell in Tennessee. We’re going to visit Trent’s dad for the holiday. Should be a hootin’ hollerin’ good time. Poor Molly can’t come with us, as she is obviously a terrorist threat and should not be brought on an airplane. She just may rub her nipples on the security personel, and then we’d be thrown into a CIA secret prison. And I will reiterate, my baby does not like CIA secret prisons. Instead, Molly Moo is going on her first big road trip with her boyfriend Satchel, Heath and Mikayla’s puppy. Actually, I’m not sure I can call him a puppy anymore as he is slowing growing to the size of a small horse. Mikayla is the most awsome-ist of all awsome as she is taking Molly home with her to Iowa. Why she would volunteer for this task I have no fucking idea, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut as I’d like to get on the flight without Molly getting us detained by any government agency.

In other news, I have become a housewife. Since the nausea and fatigue have passed I can no longer sleep and must be constantly busy. Hence the Christmas wonderland and the chocolate cheesecake cupcakes (try to say that five times fast) I baked last night. Yes. I baked last night. And I came in to work at 7 a.m. On purpose. What the hell has happened to me?!

To quote a buddy from work, “If men knew what a pain in the ass it is to change your name, then maybe they wouldn’t ask why it’s such a big fucking deal to us women.”

Exafuckingactly!!!!

Changing my name was a HUGE decision, a decision that was finally made when I realized the only people in my family that I really admire and are big parts of my life do not have the same last name as me. And I guess Megan Peters doesn’t sound that bad. If I was all in a huff about changing my name in the first place, then maybe I would have stood my ground more, but I really didn’t give to much of a crap. Except that I knew changing it would be the biggest pain in the ass of all time!

Did I mention how much I hate government workers? I hope I don’t get arrested by the FBI now. Hey FBI, I just mean postal workers and secretaries and people at the social security office, OK?! I just love politicians though. Please do not shoot me. Or throw me in prison for a few years with no cause. I do not think my baby would like a CIA secret prison. Not one bit.

Anyway, now I have two bank accounts in two different names, a driver’s license in the current-but-soon-to-be-wrong name, a passport in the wrong name, and I have to change all of my bills. I’m starting to really enjoy the Hits of the 1970s they play when I’m on hold with all of these giant corporations. Jesus, spring for the 1980s set people!

I just finished uploading all of the photographer’s pictures to Flickr and I think I may just lose my mind. Oh wait, there it goes. Is this what being married is all about. Creating online photo albums and baking pies. And cleaning.

Oh yes, also, in the extreme boredom of early pregnancy, I decided it’s never to early to decorate for the holidays. Trent was ecstatic to learn he has married a complete freak. The stockings are up, the fake tree has been assembled, and I even bought a candle that smells like fresh baking. Fuck Martha, here comes Megan!