Sean answered my interview questions and I literally laughed my bum off at his last answer. Hee!

Also, Rbelle answered my questions and I totally forgot to link to her. See what I never do memes that require multi-step follow through? I’m a hopeless case.

But wow did I enjoy their answers, even if making up questions was a challenge and a half. 

I am still laughing at this: The Milwaukee Brewers had a promotion last night offering two free tickets to anyone who came to the game and got a free rectal exam. The trailer where the exams were held, according to the radio report I heard, was located near the TGI Friday’s in the stadium.

Hubby: “Which is appropriate because their food is butt.”

The news item I linked to pointed out the irony that the Brewers have one of those sideline competition where fans dressed as different kinds of sausages race for a prize. You can’t possibly make anything up that’s more funny than sausage racing on rectal exam night.

The only thing better was the Newark Bears’ promotion last year where you got in free if you dressed up as your favorite Scientologist. 

In my last issue of Domino magazine, which I like and loathe at the same time, there was an article about two women who, for $500, will have a phone interview with you and then give you a two word statement of your personal style. I’m fascinated by people who can accurately sum up another person in such succinct terms, even after interview questions in about a 30 minute conversation. But am I paying $500 for that? You must be kidding.

One of my personal style words might be “Frugal.” Or perhaps “Overly practical?” Other combinations I’ve entertained myself with: “Bedhead Acne.” “Comfortable Shoes (tho not a Lesbian).” “Elastic Waist.” “WTF OMG.” “Pajams KThxBye.”

Seriously, I’ve been entranced by the idea, and have been thinking what mine would be, what two-word description would best fit my personal style of clothing, decorating, and basically how I keep my shit together. Last night or the night before I figured it out. If I had to describe me in two words: Casual Poise.

How that fits into my clothing purchases, I have no idea. But I think it fits.

So what would your two word definition of style be? 

Today, Freebird is 18 months old. Yay Freebird! A full-on toddler with tantrums just around the corner - because if there’s one thing he inherited from his parents, it would be The Stubbornness. And also, the Monster Gas. I think he jet propelled himself up the stairs last night.

But also, today is the day that Baba O’Riley saw fit to deliver unto me not one, but TWO majorly pleasant symptoms of pregnancy: my already-entrenched sciatica met up with her good friend heart burn today, and oh, it’s a party in my torso, so bring the hot sauce. I feel like laying down the law and saying that Baba only gets one problem per week, and this week’s problem was already used up. But I don’t think the trotting-to-the-lavatory problem was Baba O’Riley’s fault, so maybe this week we get heart burn for fun and giggles.

Pass the Zantac OMG. 

Had a bit of a yucky morning - suffice it to say that I didn’t really want to be far, far away from the lavatory this AM, and was not looking forward to my commute. The bathrooms at the Port Authority Bus Station? Egads.

I just had the following conversation with my completely not hungry stomach, which, for the record, is located immediately above and is somewhat compressed by a 21 week fetus that would like food very much, kick kick.

Sarah: “Here. Have toast. And shut up.”

Stomach: “RWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOORRRRRGG mumbrle frumrk gnserk.”

Sarah: “Seriously. Toast. Take this, and shut the hell up because people in the next BUILDING can HEAR YOU.”

Stomach: “GUUURRRRGGGGLLLLLLE burrrrrrsluuuuurrrrk murklunker huknnurth.”

Sarah: “HOLY CRAP TAKE THE TOAST. And yogurt. And flat Coke. And please, be quiet.”

Stomach: “...”

Sarah: “THANK GOD.”

Stomach: ”

GRAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

Sarah: “Darn.”

I have two horrible, mean, and evil thoughts while watching Antiques Roadshow:

1. Hubby is going to be 1% less manly for every minute I have this on while he’s in the room.

2. People who talk about the origin of the stuff in their homes are unspeakably, horribly boring. I seriously don’t care about the provenance of your great-great-great grandmother’s toothpick collection. But if it’s worth a lot, I better see your eyes fall out of your boring head. Because damn, some random piece of stuff is worth a crapton of money? That’s kinda cool.

EDITED TO ADD:

Anyone else who watches these shows just get dumbfounded when someone lugs something flipping HUGE into the showroom? Like, here’s a woman with weird hair and a busted up leg and she’s got her big ass dining room table and it’s only worth three grand.

And alllright! It’s not Antiques Roadshow without a Indian Head. And a guitar.

With my extensive medical knowledge (aka Dr. Google) I’ve decided that my problems are, in order, and relatedly, 1. Sciatica being a right bitch, 2. nausea and 3. Fatigue. The fatigue is definitely related to #1 since I didn’t sleep well, having dreamt off and on that people were chasing me and stabbing me in the back. Ow. The sciatica is pregnancy related since I had similar problems when pregnant with Freebird. And the nausea, who the hell knows. Maybe its all related, maybe not.

But seriously, not being able to say, “I have a problem and my problem is _____” is very frustrating because I can’t really DO anything to fix my problems. I can keep my back straight but I can’t take any medication that would reduce the inflammation because I’m allergic to any over the counter medicines that would do that. I certainly can’t take muscle relaxers. I can apply cold but not heat too much, and unfortunately I can’t avoid sitting in a chair, either.

Whine whine whine. I want Dr. Google to spit out a perfect solution to my problems. And Dr. Google is telling me that either I have sciatica (duh) or malaria. Why is it that any searches for symptoms and disease result in malaria from Dr. Google?

Shit, maybe I have malaria.