Thank you, thank you, 112 times thank you

I was so busy not posting for so long, then posting my brains out at the beginning of bedrest, that I failed to notice my 100th post. This is actually post #112. My blogaversary is in a month (May 30th), so it's hard to decide what to spend all my party funds on. Do I get an ice cream cake and cut it into 100 slices to commemorate my posts? Or do I get a pinata of some sort, fill it with empty vials and used needles, then smash it to smithereens on May 30th? (Yes, I know that's dangerous, I'm only kidding here.)

Anyway, thank you so much for those of you who have taken the time to read my ramblings. Whether you're part of the Braces Bunch crew who have been kind enough to read mostly from the beginning, whether you've been reading for 6 months, or whether this is your first time reading (sorry it's so dull today), thank you. Your comments have helped me more than any mere words can possibly say. The friendships I've had the fortune to cultivate -- including the in-person ones with the Order of the Plastic Uterus ladies -- are ones that I treasure beyond description. I absolutely, undoubtedly, most definitely would have gone stark, raving mad if I didn't have your support. I wish I was kidding, but I'm not.

I became a fairly boring blogger once I got pregnant this time. I had no idea what to say, I couldn't bear the thought of being a whiner. I'm sure I lost many a reader due either to my pregnant state (which I completely understand) or due to my lame-ass posts (which I completely understand). I was never diligent enough to pay attention to my subscription numbers to see if they rose or fell over the year. I definitely get less comments now, but that's okay too. What's crazy is that when I get my sitemeter reports, I'm still getting lots and lots of hits per day and per week. So I suspect that people are still reading, they just aren't commenting.

This is all fine. Except now that I have nothing but time to lounge around on my ass and think, I'm starting to wonder just who is reading. Never mind that on numerous occasions I have noticed that the location is frighteningly close to home -- often times just a city or two away. I'm not terribly worried about that because the smack that I talk about people is typically the same things I say to them in person anyway. However, I'm intrigued by how I get so many hits and so few comments.

Here is where I let my insecurity hang out. As soon as Mel posted a little while back about how she wondered who was still reading (since her comment numbers were down), I thought, "Right on. I wonder the same thing myself." So I'm asking if you wouldn't mind letting me know you are out there. A simple, "Yup, I read your crappy posts. I just don't comment because they aren't comment-worthy" would be fine. (Obviously you could skip the hostile tone, but you get the point.)

In the meantime, please accept my most sincere thanks for being my support system this past year. It's a rare and delicate gift, these friendships, and one that I don't ever take for granted.

The Big Secret -- Revealed

Okay, okay. I'm sorry I left you hanging with The Big Secret. It's all so crappy now that it doesn't pack nearly the same whallop. The big secret was that my IRL buddy Rho got a second line on an HPT! She called me on Tuesday evening after taking the test and gave me the news. I was absolutely beside myself with excitement, I couldn't sleep a wink that night. I resisted the urge to drive to her house the next morning for the pee stick festivities just to drink in the good vibe of that 2nd line.

Then, it turned to crap. She tested on Wednesday morning and this morning and got nothing. Just stark whiteness staring her in the face. She's crushed. I'm crushed. I don't understand why life is so outrageously cruel to some people. She doesn't deserve this. None of us do. Right now I am so angry, so hurt, and so sad for her that it's like an elephant is sitting on my chest sometimes.

Please go over and offer some support. My heart is so sad for her.

As for me, apparently I'm quite good at the bedrest thing. I had my first NST today and it went well. My blood pressure was in the acceptable range, I only had trace amounts of protein in my urine, my ankles aren't the least bit swollen, and the baby cooperated with the whole non-stress test thing. My "modified bedrest" sentence wasn't lifted, but the Doctor did say... and I quote... "Keep doing whatever you are doing, it seems to be working." I'm not being nearly as strict as they originally prescribed, but it's still amounting to about a 70% cutback on what I used to do (I was pretty active). So we'll stick with this plan until next week's test and see what it says.

He was kind enough (um, not) to check my cervix. No dilation (no surprise, I never dilated with Megan, even on Pitocin) but 50% effacement. Hell, I was probably 50% effaced at 12 weeks for all I know. Anyway, I'm still hoping to hold off until my c-section date on 5/19 so we'll see how it goes.

I'm slowly working through the Braces Bunch cards. I'm excited to send them out, I know how much I love to get mail from you lovely ladies! It feels good to be reciprocating again. I was really good at sending stuff for the first few months, but seriously slacked at the end of last year. I'm sorry!!

Now I'm off to wallow in my sadness for Rho and shake my fist at the Infertility Gods. Bastards.

Christmas in April

I have a secret, but I can't tell yet. Maybe on Friday. I'm so excited that I can't hardly stand myself, I'm giddy and vibrating with excitement. Enough said, I'm just getting annoying with all the gushing without being able to tell you...

To all of you in the Braces Bunch... Christmas is coming! This is going to sound insane, but I'm getting ready to send out Christmas cards. Actually, they are holiday cards (most have snowflakes on them). I have had them sitting in my office, addressed and stamped, since early December. There is absolutely no reason that I haven't sent them except I haven't written anything worthwhile on the inside. Now that I'm on bedrest -- no excuse. So, in honor of our 1st anniversary of the BB, I am going to send them out soon. Look for them in your mailboxes!

I took a picture of the amazing blanket JJ made for Spidey, but our computer is acting stupid so it's not letting me upload it. I'll get that figured out post haste and will get it up here for all of you to admire.

Otherwise, things are going well. Bedrest is okay, still dull but seems to be working. I had an eye doctor appt yesterday and it took forever. All the walking and waiting and other nonsense took it's toll. (Clearly, I'm no Delenn!) I mentioned to them (when they asked) about the blood pressure stuff so they immediately took it. It was considerably higher than it's been at home -- albiet still not outrageously high -- so I guess my OBs knew what they were doing when they banished me to the couch. Damn them. First NST is on Thursday, hope it goes well.

Daughtry, Cookies and PJs

Wow, it's amazing how much time you can waste surfing on the web. I'm a bit embarrassed, frankly. But it has afforded me the opportunity to realize that I simply must get an i.Pod. I would love the ability to walk around with a private stash of my own personal favorite songs on demand.

I took Kevin and Megan to the airport yesterday afternoon. They went to Chi.cago for Kevin's cousin's wedding (and a family reunion). I had planned all along to stay home -- "no thanks" to the idea of hauling myself cross country at 35w pregnant -- so it was okay. But you know what is hard for a hormones-on-overdrive woman to do? Drop her impossibly cute, unendingly lovable daughter off at the airport and watch her walk away, waving at the car. I sobbed the whole way home.

Then I cried when I got home because I hadn't picked up her toys before we left and there were books, Bar.bies and Polly.Pockets strewn all about the family room. How could I miss her so much when she wasn't even on the plane yet? Ugh.

I managed to sleep pretty well last night (mostly in the glider sitting up), and even squeaked in an hour of extra shut eye thanks to having the house all to myself. But then I started just prowling around, pacing the hardwoods. I did some work, I sent some emails. I had to distract myself. I woke up this morning wanting peanut butter toast. Alas, I had no bread. So what did I do? I made peanut butter cookies. A great idea until you eat 3 of them. Before 10am. Not such a good idea.

I realized I needed to move on from the cookies. So I went looking on the Web for what I consider to be the best American.Idol performance ever. Boom! There it was on You.Tube, easy as pie to find. Then I just spiraled down into a 3 hour long show of video clips. I even found one that I didn't know existed, and I love it!!

What's crazy is that I'm not a big rock fan. I like it. Hell, I grew up on Peter.Frampton, Bruce.Springsteen, KISS, Aero.smith, Rolling.Stones and stuff like that thanks to my older siblings. I have even attended more than my fair share of Iron.Maiden and Bon.Jovi concerts. (Which reminds me of another great performance, and only underscores how happy I am that they let the AI contestants play instruments now -- I can't believe it, but he might have been even better had he been allowed to play guitar!) But now I prefer country. I still listen to other genres, but mostly prefer country.

Anyway, something about Chris.Daughtry stuck with me. I think he just sounds so great. Which reminds me -- when I take my outing for today, I must find somewhere to go and buy his CD. :-)

I think I could spend about 3 months monkeying around on You.Tube and never run out of stuff to see. That is a clear indication of the sad, sad state of affairs in my house right now. Clearly, I need my family to come back from being out of town. And I need to get those damn peanut butter cookies out of my house. I hear the recycling truck coming down the street, I would run outside and give them the cookies except that I'm still in my freakin' pajamas. At 1pm. Wow.

'Twas the Night Before Transfer...

I guess this is what you do when you have nothing but time to lounge around and think. You make up outrageously long poems about your IF journey. Hope you like it...

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'Twas the night before transfer and all through the land
Stim needles were quiet, just PIO was in hand

The meds were laid out on the counter with care
In hopes that the Baby Fairy soon would be there

The vials, the saline, the needles and syringes
When I think of it now, every cell in me cringes

We’d made it through stimming, through retrieval and the sorts
We’d lived in daily fear of those fertilization reports

5 eggs, 4 fertilized, 3 are still going strong
I want them all back in my uterus where they belong

CM, IUI, IVF and OPK
MF, ICSI, AH and SA

6-cell, 8-cell, A-grade, and B-grade
The numbers, the education, the memories will not soon fade

But, alas, I’ve said too much, let us start at the start
With a tale we all know about the joys of ART

The boy and the girl, they are smitten, then wed
They jump, full of excitement, into the marital bed

“Let’s make a baby!” they exclaim with their unbridled joy
“What shall we have?" they ask "A girl or a boy?”

Off come the shirts, and off come the pants
Let’s get right down to it, let’s do the Baby Dance!

A few months go by, but it’s not a big deal
This just means more “practice” which they approach with some zeal

After a year, it gets old, it’s not exciting anymore
Sex is no longer fun, it’s nearly a chore

Is there a problem? Who knows? Is the problem with me?
I guess we’ll find out if we seek an RE

“Let’s run some tests. Let’s see what is what.”
Before we start jamming hormones into my gut

SA, FSH, then cycle day 3
Clomid challenge, lining check, then the awful HSG

“It’s good news! Nothing’s wrong! But to help you guys try
Let’s do this neat thing, we like to call it IUI.”

It’s a toe in the water, it’s like a pre-dinner taster
Some people liken it to a nice, easy turkey baster

We decide to do it, we wait for Aunt Flo
Just to jack with our heads, she decides not to show

Could it be? Could it be? Is fate on our side?
Are we an urban legend? From infertiles must I hide?

It is true, we are shocked. Both shocked and relieved.
No IUI for us, we had naturally conceived!

They were short lived, our dreams, of those chubby little cheeks
We lost our miracle baby right around 8 weeks

That Christmas, it sucked, a D&C on New Year’s Eve
Instead of toasting, we stayed home to grieve

We picked up the pieces, we continued to try
But after months of no luck, we again talked IUI

So we tried a few pills, we gave up some sperm
It couldn’t be worse than eating the tequila worm

We gave lots of blood, we said “Cost be damned!”
We visited the nice lady with the neat dildo cam

We stimmed, we triggered, we wished for vacation
Instead we spend cash on an insemination

We were hopeful, we were anxious, we were even optimistic
We perused the aisles of Target for just the right kind of pee stick

As an added bonus, I guess just for shits and for grins
I shoved Prometrium up myself, and dreamed of having twins

Alas, it was negative, this cycle was a huge bust
We were sad, we were angry, but we brushed off the dust

“It will work! It will work! Be patient!” They'd say
So we plodded along, each day after day

IUI 1, IUI 2, IUI 3 all a bummer
Nary I drink I enjoyed through all of that summer

I guess we move on, I guess we pull out the “big guns”
Let’s try this IVF stuff, let’s dig up the funds

Because surely THAT will work, I mean it’s the Last Stop
It’s just the thing we need to get us over the top

More tests, more money, and an injection class
I’m starting to feel like my heart is made of blown glass

But we press on, we are brave, we know this is right
We will have a new baby to keep us up all the night

In a sea of emotion, I was tossed to and fro
No way could I have made it through without IRL friend Rho

We entered IVF with our eyes big and wide
Refusing to let our baby dreams fall off to the side

I remember feeling stunned, overwhelmed and confused
When I got the list of meds that they said would be used

Did they say, “They are evil! They’ll kill the real Leah!” ?
Hell no, they made them sound like a great panacea

“These drugs will help you, these drugs will all work!”
The crying jags, the burst blood vessels, all perk after perk

The needles, the needles, the needles they came
I grew to both love and hate all my drug friends by name

On baby aspirin! On Follistim! On Menopur and Ganirelix!
Make my follies grow big! Work your ovarian tricks!

On Lupron! On estrace! On progesterone in oil!
To make these nice follies, oh that labor and toil!

IVF #1 was exciting for sure
For the sadness that ailed us, it simply must be the cure!

Like a crazed mad scientist, I would stir them up in a pot
I drew the line when Kevin asked to be called Sir Mix-a-lot

Oh Lupron, you Devil, how you batted those lashes
I forgot to say thank you for those wicked hot flashes

Oh Menopur, you whore, you stung like a bitch
If wealth was measured in tears, I’d be considered quite rich

Then came the monitoring, the dance with the wand
I loved the RE’s nurses, we formed quite a bond

But even they, my new friends, couldn’t hide what was true
I was limping along, making only a follie or two

High FSH, poor responder, diminished ovarian reserve
All bad, all disappointing, threw us both for a curve

None was helped by that damn Lupron, we couldn’t have guessed
That it worked all too well, I was over-suppressed

IVF 1 was a bust, but at least we could try
To convert to our old friend, the useless IUI

So that’s what we did, though we knew to our core
What would be the outcome of IUI #4

In the midst of it all, while we’re crying in our cup
My best friend hits the jackpot, she gets herself all knocked up

Now I get to watch in despair as her belly grows and grows
As she frets about whether to buy baseballs or more bows

I am unfazed, I am determined, I will get success
I’d sell my soul for a baby, I am sad to confess

We try it again, this time a different protocol
And pray that my ovaries want to dance at the ball

It is better, but not great, although we do learn with glee
That we have made it to transfer, let’s put back all three!

In they go, now lie down, in your bed take a rest
Try to resist taking a pregnancy test

Wait for beta, poke my boobs, analyze every twinge and cramp
I wish I could say I handled the 2WW like a champ

But I didn’t, I sucked, I was a giant ball of stress
I was hormonal, I was cranky, I was a big bitchy mess

I’d pass the time reading books and watching the telly
I’d map out constellations in needle pricks on my belly

Then, I caved, it’s true, I’m a real pee stick junkie
I was pacing the floor like a poor caged zoo monkey

Holy shit! Can it be? Did it actually work!
I see a line! I see a line! Then I turned with a jerk.

Hey Kevin! Come quickly! Do you see what I see?
Did it work on the first try? Can this really, truly be?

A beta confirmed it. Was this the end of our trouble?
What’s my progesterone? What’s my HSG? Would it actually double?

It’s OUR time! Happy day! The Gods don’t hate us after all
Looks like we’ll have a new baby in the Fall

Then it all fell apart, like it seemed to always do
Four weeks later we spiraled down into miscarriage #2

I was sad, I was weepy, I was in a real funk
I was sick and was tired of this bullshit IF junk

I got on the web, started looking for support
Other chicks with IF, RPL and the sort

And what to my wondering eyes should be seen?
But the infamous Mel and her site Stirrup Queens!

I dove in full force, devouring blog after blog
I slowly but surely came out of my fog

I found JJ, so lovely, she was great, I had a hunch
Even without my own blog, I joined the Braces Bunch

The cards and the letters, the postcards and notes
We were all in this together, all in similar boats

I felt so much support, so much understanding and love
Surely this blogging thing was sent straight from above

I started my blog, and began IVF #2
Surely THAT would work, surely now we were due

Wash, rinse, repeat, the same old steps we did take
IVF 2 was a flop, a loser, a flake

I made it through sane, somehow didn’t get crazy
Some days were happy, some other days hazy

I read blogs, and I laughed, I cried and tried to mend
I learned of new words from my internet friends

Blilt, Va-Jay-Jay, and Hoohaahooterus
Then I found the holy grail, the Order of the Plastic Uterus

The group of local ladies, we laugh til we snort
I love them, I need them, I crave their support

Our posse wouldn’t exist, we wouldn’t gather to this day
Without the amazing efforts of the lovely LJ

At this time, I was crushed, tired of spreading my legs
Didn’t want to keep trying, started talking donor eggs

I found blogs of others, like Lara and Kami
Who helped me sort through my feelings of being hit by a whammy

In the end, it was Kevin -- he said “Just one more go?”
“With your eggs, it may work, you just never know!”

So we begged and we borrowed, we dug through the trash
We pilfered and bartered and came up with the cash

Once again, we changed protocols, we hoped this would be best
Would it give us an outcome that was different from the rest?

Well it did, I am proud and so happy to say
I am still in shock to this very same day

For those of you still down in the deep IF trenches
Who feel they are watching the Baby Game from the benches

Don’t despair, don’t lose faith, don’t give up that hope
Lean on me, lean on God, whatever helps you to cope

It is dark, it is cruel, it’s the epitome of unfair
The heartache, the sorrow, often too much to bear

But know you are loved, and know this is true
On the night before transfer, remember that I do so love you

Bedrest Day #1 (subtitle: First in a series of what will surely prove to be a lengthy collection of boring posts)

Okay, so day 1 of bedrest wasn't too bad. I worked quite a lot from the comfortable confines of my couch. I prepared documentation, solved technical issues, ran conference calls, and actually got a fair amount accomplished.

The hours stretched on, but were punctuated by my exciting visits to the bathroom where I got to wee in a bedpan and then fill up a nifty ol' orange jug full of piss. That is one good time, let me tell you. Can't wait to deliver that to the lab tomorrow. I bet it will be just like Christmas for them.

Megan managed to leave the house today to show the new nanny where the duck pond is in our neighborhood. It made me sad to see her riding away down the street on her pink big girl bike in her pink princess helmet, knowing I couldn't go with her. But it truly won't be for all that long so I need to just get over myself.

I had my regular OB appointment this morning. Have I mentioned (oh, about a thousand times) how much I love my OB/GYN? I mean I have a serious crush on him. I know it's sorta sick, I don't care.

He did a biophysical profile on the baby (basically just a sonogram) and proclaimed everything to be "looking great." Heart looked good, pretend breathing was going on, fluid looked good, stuff like that. At one point, I said, "What in the world is that?" I'm skilled at reading sonograms but couldn't figure out what was going on. He said, "Them's boy parts." I was like, "Woah. Dang, he's quite the stud." I seriously still can't believe we're having a boy sometimes. Man oh man I hope he comes out healthy and doesn't up and die on us in the next couple of weeks. I might not be able to recover from that one.

The Doctor re-confirmed the bedrest sentencing, and answered some of my questions. Here's a typical exchange between the two of us:

Me: "So, what about sex?"
Doctor: "Um, well that depends. With who?"
Me: "Him." [pointing to Kevin who is trying not to look mortified]
Doctor: "Sure."
Me: "I mean, you should go ahead and tell him that I can't do any of the work, I'll need to just lie there and whatnot."
Doctor: "Would you like me to make a specific list of what you can and cannot do?"
Kevin: "NO. Please don't draw us any pictures, either."
Me: "Listen. Just because we didn't need to have actual sex to make this baby, doesn't mean we don't know what we are doing, you know."

Meanwhile, the idea of having sex is just ridiculous. It's the farthest thing from my mind. But I can already tell that I'm going to feel a little guilty about all the extra crap Kevin's going to be doing around the house and it's about the only reward I think I can follow through on at this point. So I figured I'd at least see if it's an option.

Anyway, all of my regular OB appointments have been cancelled. They've now been converted to weekly non-stress tests. The level of protein in my urine didn't go up between yesterday and today, but the real results will be given by my vat o' piss to be donated in the morning.

Thank you so much to all of you who have stopped by to offer your kind words, visits, and other things. In a couple of weeks when this is really, really, really old, I'll convince any and all Order of the Plastic Uterus babes to come to my house as quickly as possible to relieve the boredom. Maybe I'll make up a bat signal to shine in the sky. It will be shaped like a couch cushion with a GIANT indent in it...

Ugh

You know how I just said in my post below from this morning that I needed to blog more? Looks like I'm going to have lots of time to do just that. Seeing as how I'm now offically on bedrest.

Good grief, I'm still in shock and can't believe it. I guess when you have a blood pressure reading of 170/100 and protein in your urine, it makes people a little on edge... Luckily I'm just shy of 3 weeks away from full-term (37 weeks), so hopefully I don't languish here too long.

The toughest thing, for sure, will be getting my wildly overactive 3 year old to understand why I can't do everything that I used to do. Between when I got home and when she went to bed, a whopping 5 hours elapsed -- but that didn't stop me from needing to explain and re-explain the concept to her at least a dozen times. Should be interesting.

Random Thoughts in a Way-Too-Long Post

I forget that so much time goes by between posts. Maybe because I am composing posts in my head all day long (I understand what you mean, Kami), and I am truly turning into my Mother ("I called you, why didn't you call me back?" "Um, no, you didn't call me, Mom." "Well, I thought about it. Why didn't you call me back?") and have blurred the line between what happens in my mind versus what happens in real life. That's some scary shit, I tell you.

Here are all the random things I've been meaning to blog about:

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I missed the gathering of The Order of the Plastic Uterus yesterday. I'm SO bummed! Kevin got called into work and I had no one to watch Megan. As usual, it sounds like they had a great time and I desperately missed seeing them.

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Go give lots of lucky vibes to Rho. In her latest IVF, yesterday's retrieval hauled in 17 eggs! Woot!! We are still waiting (im)patiently for the fert report but I'm so excited, I'm practically vibrating.

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I'm trying to finish everything up at work (c-section is 5 weeks from today), and it's stressing me out. I'm turning it over to a wildly capable, competent friend of mine (Laurie), but it's still just a lot of work to put everything in order for anyone else to step in and take over. I'm looking forward to the break, though, as there's a fair amount of drama at work right now.

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Megan's sibling class at the hospital was on Saturday. She loved it! She is obsessed with babies (both real and in the doll form) so she's actually pretty experienced with holding them and attempting to change diapers. We mostly went so that someone other than her parents could tell her the normal stuff: wash your hands before touching the baby, don't pick the baby up, don't wake the baby up, etc. Plus she's had 1,001 questions about exactly what it will be like when I'm in the hospital. So it was nice she could see the room I'd be staying in, and where the snacks were located (she smuggled out a graham cracker, I think that was the highlight of the entire day), where the bathroom was, basics like that. She hasn't asked her customary daily zillion questions about my hospital stay since then, so maybe it satisfied her curiosity for a little while.

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Megan and Kevin will be out of town this weekend. Without me! This will be the first time she's ever been away from me for more than 1 night. And they'll be in Chicago!! Kevin's cousin's wedding is this weekend, as well as a bonus family reunion. But I'm like a lumbering whale rolling about on the beach most of the time so the idea of hauling it through a couple of airports and through all the ensuing festivies was probably pushing it too far. Plus, I've started swelling pretty badly by nightfall (full-on pitting edema, it's a fun party trick), and pant like a dog trapped in a sauna at times, so my OB recommended that I don't go. Instead, I'll stay home and prep for the baby.

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Speaking of that, we're sort of ready. Truthfully, all you really need is place for the baby to sleep, some onesies, and a carseat to bring them home. We have both of those, so the rest is just gravy. However, washing some clothes, washing the bedding, washing the carseat cover, and having a few burpcloths handy is a good idea too. I'll tackle that this weekend.

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My friend Kelly has been browbeating me for over a month about a shower. I've patiently explained that I don't want a shower, I don't believe in showers for subsequent babies (not that there's anything wrong with them, we just don't need anything), and at this point whatever items people give us simply translate into more shit we need to find a place for in our house. (Except, of course the exquisite blanket that JJ made and the adorable stuff that Rho gave me.) Anyway, she decided that she'd throw a "sprinkle" (she reasoned that it is smaller than a "shower"). I agreed only if very, very few people came, if it was clear that they were not to bring any gifts, and if we had yummy food. I'm just looking for an excuse to get together with my girlfriends and enjoy some party food. It's set for May 3rd and I think it will be a lot of fun.

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I'm a hormonal wreck. I know it's to be expected -- there's the pregnancy hormones, there's the sleep deprivation (did I mention I can only "sleep" sitting up in the glider these days? notice that I put the verb "sleep" in quotes since it's a joke to call it that?), there's the looming reality of a baby coming into the house, there's the looming reality of having an actual END to this trying-to-have-children nightmare of IF, there's the exhausting behavior of my highly spirited 3 year old, there's the stress of finishing stuff up at work, there's the stress of a horrific revalation about an ex-boyfriend (explained below), yada yada yada. I cry at everything and nothing. I kept crying during Megan's class at the hospital because the kids were so damn cute. I tried to play it off like I had allergies or something, but I'm just a giant doofus. (Did anyone else just have the line "so you try to play it off like you think you can by sayin that you're full and then your friend says momma he's just being polite he aint finished uh uh that's bull" run through their heads? Man, I love that song!)

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I was married way-back-when to a perfectly nice guy named Sean for 6 years. After we broke up, I dated a flaming jackass named Steve (ever after referred to as Evil Steve) for almost 2 years. Then I dated only myself for a year and a half. Then I dated anyone who had a pulse for a while. Then, I found a nice guy. His name was Richard. After a year of dating, we moved in together. Planning for the move-in, we hit snag #1. His credit royally sucked. Interesting for someone who was 34 at the time and seemed pretty normal. Snag #2 was that we planned to get engaged prior to moving in together, but it turns out he couldn't afford a ring. I knew he made decent $ so I wasn't sure what was going on. We went ahead and moved in together, and within a couple of weeks he proposed (his parents paid for the ring apparently). Unfortunately, on the 2nd night of us living together, I made the first of a series of shocking discoveries that eventually led me to the conclusion that he was a highly-functioning alcoholic. I truly had no idea. Anyway, the ensuing story is pretty interesting (including his insane reasoning for why he wasn't an alcoholic, my life changing experience with Al.Anon, his refusal to move out of my townhouse for months and months after I broke it off, etc.) but not worth repeating here. He finally agreed to go into rehab -- his first trip there ever -- for a 21 day program. He walked out after 4 days, proclaiming himself "cured" and "not really an alcoholic anyway" (neveryoumind the 4 bottles of wine he drank each night and other craziness). His parents were there to catch him whenever he fell, as they'd been doing for over a decade. Slapped in the face by such blatent enabling behavior, I realized he was never going to change and cut off all communication with him entirely. This was about 8 or 9 years ago. It seems he's been in rehab a few more times since then, seemingly with little success. How do I know this? Fast forward to last month when I learned that he murdered his parents. Yes, you read that correctly. They were in a fight about making him go back to rehab and he shot them dead in their own home. The rest of the story is crazy (he was caught trying to cross into Canada, no one even knew his parents had been dead for almost 5 days, but he confessed) and here's hoping he stays locked up forever. Mostly I've been crying for his parents who are (were) incredibly sweet, wonderful people. I've also been crying for his uncle who is my sister's neighbor (that's how I met Richard). I've also been crying for myself because, well, I'm finally letting go of all the guilt I carried around for "quitting" and "giving up on him" so quickly. To say I made the right choice is an understatement.

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Okay, I can't end on that somber note. Instead, I'll leave you with some jokes:

• Confucius Says: If you don't succeed, re-define success.
• What’s worse than finding a worm in your apple? Finding half a worm.
• Why did Dorothy get lost in Oz? She had three men giving her directions.
• Q: What do you call a laughing motorcycle? A: A Yamahahaha
• Q. What do you call a fish with no eye? A. A fsh
• Did you know my wife went to a self-help group for compulsive talkers? It’s called On and On Anon.
• The cheapest way to have your family tree traced is to run for a public office.
• What is the difference between ignorance, apathy, and ambivalence? I don’t know and I don’t care one way or the other.

I second that Bitch

Go read Mel's post. Actually, it's really the comments that are the treasure trove.

If you are easily offended or don't enjoy what Mel has coined LSOs (Lovingly-Spoken Obscenities), then perhaps you shouldn't read it after all. But if you think "skank," "fuckstick," "whore," and "fucknut" are great things to call your friends and favorite relatives, then this post and it's ensuing comments are right up your alley.

I have yet to find someone to top Tammy's offering, it made me laugh out loud.