I run this other website, which is a much bigger undertaking than this one, and as a result sometimes there’s a pressure I put on myself to go write stuff already and goshdarnit, it better be pearls of goddam brilliance! So while this is my space to ramble about poop or parenting or why I only have 4 shirts and 3 pairs of pants this late in pregnancy (the reason: Lands’ End canceled their maternity line and I may never forgive them) at the other site I have this additional pressure to post at length, and really, that pressure can be a bitch. Even if I’m putting it on myself unnecessarily.

Today I woke up all bummed out that I had nothing to say. And then I sat down to doodle on the bus (can’t read anymore, makes me nauseated, *weep*) and came up with all these ideas out of nowhere. Just when I thought I had nothing to say, I had a ton to say.

Where did all those words come from?

Oh never mind. I won’t question. I’ll just enjoy it.

I completely empathize with your problem. The guy who sat down next to you sat next to me last week. And, well, he stinks. Either he doesn’t bathe often enough or consumes cubic feet of curry on a daily basis, but, well, you have your hand under your nose like I did.

I hate to be alarmist but you might want to keep your eye on him. He tends to rest his hands on his groin and likes to move his manjunk about in a compulsive fashion. It’s disturtbing to say the least. But that would explain my name for him: smelly wanker guy.

I am sorry you are next to him. I keep telling myself that I am wrong but there’s something about him that I don’t trust.

Keep your hand under your nose, anyway. The smell is undisputably bad.

I spent most of the weekend resting after my hellish commute last Wednesday made me feel like doody for four days afterward. Amazingly (to me at least) I did one thing that I haven’t done in literally months: I watched an entire movie. I downloaded (shhh!) Pride & Prejudice and watched it on my laptop - a fantastic experience.

1. I was the only one who wanted to watch it, so I didn’t bother Hubby and he could watch sports while I watched my flowery, music-dripping romance.
2. If someone looked familiar, I could pause the movie, look them up, then go back to the movie without doing more than moving my thumb.
3. I still have the movie so if I wanted to watch it again, I could, or, I could delete it.

Gosh, I enjoyed myself. It was a wonderful 2 hours. That won’t happen again for awhile. 

Tonight Hubby and I made Beer Can Chicken, also known as Beer in the Butt Chicken, Beer Gumpy Chicken, or, as we now call it, What-What in the Butt Chicken, or Butt Sex Chicken.

Take 1 whole 3-4 lb. bird. Rinse, pat dry, and cover with seasonings of your choice. We used Season-all and Badia Poultry Seasoning.

Heat grill for indirect cooking, either pile the coals on one side or light half the grill and leave the other half unlit.

This is the hard part: take a can of beer, open, and drink about an inch off the top. Let Hubby know if you can’t find anyone to do this for you. He’s happy to help.

Take the chicken, and stick the can of beer up its arse. Stand the chicken on the grill, with a drip pan underneath, using the legs of the chicken to form a tripod with the can of beer.

Cook the chicken at medium heat for about an hour, until the appropriate temperature measurements are met, and then eat.

I can promise, it’s some of the best chicken I have ever had. 

I have major, major pregnancy brain. I just had a thought to look something up online, and by the time I opened the browser tab, I’d forgotten what it was. 

Since my dream of a portable cellphone scrambler is both inefficient and illegal, I question what would be the appropriate measure for the blowhard two rows behind me, who is so loud I can hear him despite my IPod volume set to the highest level:

A. Rolled up ball of paper in his general direction
B. Wet rolled up ball of paper in his general direction.
C. Crank up the IPod.
D. Moblog about him to express my annoyance in passive aggressive ways.

Woo hoo! I finally have some! So my able bodied assistant Clitorious, who fights for our rights in her satin tights, and I have endeavored to examine each one to make sure they fit our high standards. Which is to say, they make some sense. Or not.

internet bukkit: The internet has stolen your bukkit? Good luck getting it back. The walrus is still looking for his.

the way I are sample: “The Way I Are” by Timbaland contains a background sample from Salt n’Pepa’s “Push It.” At least, it sounds that way to me. And to Wikipedia as well.

Lands’ End Maternity: It is gone, gone, gone. Only one or two items, if that, remain on the website. It is a travesty, and I try to remind them of it often, whenever I put on one of my few pieces of Lands’ End maternity clothing.