I’m supposed to be bathing the dogs right now…but obviously, I’m not.  I’m procrastinating because…(begin annoying whiny voice) bathing the 60 and 70 pound dogs is such a pain in the ass.

Anyway, then?  Then I have to get all pretty for a baby shower.  For a childhood friend.  WHO IS  HAVING A BABY.

Can you tell I’m freaking out?

That means…odds are I’ll be with child at some point in the (too near) future.

I AM FREAKING OUT.

Don’t get me wrong. I love babies…the kind who can go back to their mommies when they begin screaming like I’ve done something to royally piss them off or when they have a massive ass-plosion.

Then again, this one missing piece is probably why my blog is losing readers and not gaining them.

I have no tiny person ass-plosions or stroller snafus or cutesy drooling going on here…

Also?  I’ll be seeing lots old friends…the one’s where you have no idea what to say to them because you’ve all gone different directions and everyone became someone else somewhere between when you used to be friends and now.  Awkward.  And I don’t do awkward very well.  More like a babbling, rambling, cobbling together of a long, drawn out string of nonsense that ends with what the weather will be like for the next decade.

Yah.  Exactly.

I’m an embarrassment.  To myself.

And just FYI?  Whenever that day comes when I am WITH CHILD?  I’m counting on my five faithful readers to blast booshy all over the universe.  Why?  I’m going to need more than moral support when *things* start happening…like every tiny change in my body and the birthing and the EVERYTHING…READ: I AM FREAKING OUT.

Every single post will begin with something like: HAAAALLLP!!!

Get Chitika Premium