i am a pear

Pregnancy is not comfortable. It's like being stuffed with 5 million cheeseburgers, blindfolded and then sent on a scavenger hunt in a foreign city.

Today I'm a pear - my old self in most ways except the belly, which seems to have grown 10 inches outward overnight. There's just nothing normal about looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a piece of fruit.

What did I used to look like? There's a bikini in my top dresser drawer that offers a hint, but today i'm pretty sure it isn't even mine. Someone very evil planted it there to make me miserable.

It's not that I'm not grateful. I am. Our baby flits around like a little bat trapped in a box and it makes me happy, even when he pumbles my ribs. I hear his heartbeat and I tear up. I dream of the day I can hold him, even if he's a screaming monster.

But 7 more weeks? Seven more Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays of waking up to a new and more uncomfortable me? I can hardly believe I wished myself this way.

I'll do it. I'll do it for you little guy cause I haven't even seen your face and yet I adore you. But the day I wake up and see a watermelon, we're going to have a long talk.

yo, miss suzie, i got a question

someone tell me what the purpose of an 18 hour bra is. please.

they've been lurking in my subconscious all my life. in childhood, they raised curiosity (um, fear) in the jumprope song "miss suzie." come on, you remember.

.... i know i know my ma, i know i know my pa, i know i know my sister in the 18 hour, 18 hour, 18 hour bra bra bra.

not yet in a bra, i figured it was something i'd learn about later. much later. maybe never. secretely i hoped never.

but they're back and this time advertised on tv. these days the 18-hour bra sports a makeover. with pointy sateen cups made of comfort-fit styrafoam rather than paper mache and now - oh our dreams have finally come true -- the 10 ironclad fasteners that used to be in the back are now in the front!

it's a straight jacket just for your breasts. and you're supposed to wear it for 18 hours.

lets assume it's totally normal for anything to be worn for 18 hours straight. that leaves 6 full hours away from the boob girdle. i'm guessing that's when you're supposed to sleep. oh sure some women are crazy and snooze a bit longer. but why do that when you know there's a polyester chest harness anxious to strangle you?

put that bad boy on the moment you rise and don't look back.

always hated the way your breasts flop around in the shower all naked and exposed, hogging the water and demanding more soap? no longer a problem with the 18-hour bra!

find the feeling of a soft towel against clean, bare skin terrifying and uncomfortable? calm your fears with the 18-hour bra!

at least the circle goes unbroken. the commerical i saw came on during american idol, a show young girls seem to love. i've got news for you paula abdul -- america's female youth isn't drifting off to sleep dreaming of being katharine mcphee and someday singing "somewhere over the rainbow" like an angel on national tv.

no friends. they're lying awake in a cold sweat praying away the large boobs they once wished for and hoping to god they never have to know what an 18-hour bra is or why it exists.

trust me.

Leftovers, part dos

I have an unhealthy obsession with some things. Handbags, for example.

I do not have an unhealthy obsession with candy. These people, however, do. I really like this guy's gummi dissection. I wonder if there was anything left for his kid.

Oh and also, Mentos, the Messmaker. I'm going to try this at home and I think you should too.

Now this is a clever idea. Not clever enough obviously, but clever.

If you needed a little post Halloween fright to unsettle your skittles, cue up Prez B cause apparently he thinks we're all going to catch bird flu and die.

From AOL news:

Bush said no one knows when or where a deadly strain of flu will strike but "at some point we are likely to face another pandemic."

So, ok. I just. Ok. Um.

I just want to make sure I have my list of things to be afraid of/things Bush is spending gobs of money to "protect me from."

(1) Terror. Worldwide, at home, in the U.S. Except Saddam. He's eating doritoes in the slammer, and we can all feel good about that.
2) Natural disasters everywhere (NDE's). But keep traveling and driving around, cause it's keeping the boysin Texas happy
(3) Disease. All kinds. No exceptions, but mostly the flu because I have a little deal (get it?) with pharmaceutical companies
(4) Drugs. From heroin in Afghanistan to candy bars made of hash. See before-mentioned pharmacy deal.


Pop quiz: What's the difference between a pandemic and an epidemic? Do you know?

No, of course not. And neither does Prezzy.

All he knows is that it sounds SCARY and that anything that is scary is (a) easy to get money for and (b) fun to talk about cause it gets people all rowled up and forgetting about other fuck ups.

It's like this. When I was a kid, any time I'd want to do something illegal, I'd create a "problem" for my brother. The parents would be so caught up in dealing with his "problem" that I could pretty much hang the hag next door from a tree out front and no one would notice.

That is all.

left over city, sweetheart

i have left over halloween candy. i had approximately one trick or treater. he was dressed in his pjs and lives upstairs. i think his parents sent him down because they knew i have candy and felt bad that no one had come to my door.

i just counted. i have 20 kit kats, 27 recees cups,17 almond joy bars and 8 hershey bars.

i'm thinking of melting the hershey bars and making a sculpture, and i just ate one kit kat.

that leaves 63 pieces of candy that i need to do something with.

KITTY KAT QUICHE
1 c. chopped up kit kat
2. c. cubed almond joy
1 1/2 c. bourbon
4 oz. celery
27 recees cups
2 sticks of butter
1 bag of sugar

melt chocolate goodies. add butter and sugar. whip into batter. take a shot of the bourbon. smooth chocolate mixture into pan. sprinkle with celery. freeze until next year.

that's all i got.

time is just a magazine

ok, a short recap. in the time since i last blogged...

(1) it has been cool, then hot, then cool again
(2) i have highlighted my hair twice
(3) a supreme court justice has died and another has resigned
(4) four supreme court justices have been nominated (count roberts twice)
(5) i have acquired three pairs of designer jeans for free
(6) two white house staffers have been indicted
(7) i have changed the oil in my car approximately once
(8) new orleans got wiped off the map
(9) hunter s. thompson was shot from a cannon
(10) tom cruise went insane

i don't have much to say except that i miss it here.

did you read about the woman who hung herself in her front yard, but no one took her down because they thought she was a halloween decoration? seriously. isn't that sad?

Ah, Gwennyth. You're just what we needed after that nasty burger.

Some amazing and lanky and wonderful in so many ways. And older than me, which makes me hopeful.

toodles.

kittyb

Meet the 15 Pounder

Ta-da.

Wow. I'm so grossed out right now.

No Housewife in Housewife

So I'm back, but there was very little housewife in yesterday's housewife, so today I introduce you to the 15-pound burger and all of the reasons why it's wrong.

From USA Today today:

Dubbed the Beer Barrel Belly Buster, the burger comes with 10.5 pounds of ground beef, 25 slices of cheese, a head of lettuce, three tomatoes, two onions, a cup-and-a-half each of mayonnaise, relish, ketchup, mustard and banana peppers — and a bun. It Costs $30.

Honestly, why bother with the bun? It's so high in carbs and white bread is so not good for you.

Also, 4.5 pounds of condiments could feed a tribe in Africa for 7 years.

This burger comes from a place called Denny's in Pa., and is the new version of what was a 6 pound burger with 5 pounds of toppings. I'm guessing, but I think Denny's was probably offering a free meal and t-shirts left and right to the lard ass who could eat the entire thing in a 3-hour sitting and laughing their butts off at the morons who paid $23 for the thing, but had heart failure trying. Things were going along swimmingly.

Then two very bad things happened.

A 100-pound college student somewhere in the midwest ate an entire one in three hours, and soon after a diner across the way introduced a 12.5 pounder called Zeus.

All hell broke loose, and the 15-pounder was born.

So let's presume, for a second, that Denny's means for a family four to order the burger to share. Does it come out on one plate and everyone dives in like with nachos? Do the condiments come on it? Does it get sliced like a pizza? Does it come with a fork or a spoon? Or both? Does the $30 include fries (or substitute a side salad), or is that extra? Won't I also need, like... a gallon of Coke?

And, again, just for a second, let's think of all the things that weigh 15 pounds.

Newborn twins.
A very healthy Pug dog.
A Pug dog and one newborn twin.
A Mini Lacrosse Folding Goal made of galvanized steel tubing.
The average steering wheel.

Denny's manager to waitstaff: "Now look folks. We got to get people in this door, and I really believe a 10.5 pound hamburger and 4.5 pounds of toppings will do the trick. We debated the 10 pound burger and 5 pounds of toppings, or the 11 pound burger with 4 pounds of toppings, but, well frankly, 11 seemed too much and 10 seemed to little."

Right now, as I type this, Denny's Owner Vern McMahhammon is crunching the numbers on the Beer Barrell Belly Buster. $30 times 1,000,000 sold, minus $5,000,000 in law suits and $7,000,000 in condiments is ...

Dang. Not even near enough profit to make it right.

It's a slow work day

What?

What is up with the freaky hand placement? I mean honestly, who does that? Why is his hand on his sternum? Or is that his liver? Does he have a tumor? I don't even know what part of the body is there and why it might even be important enough to put one hand there, much less two.

"Sweetheart, put your hand right here. Feel that? Do you? That's... heartburn."

Wait, I know. Tom's pregnant!

What Hollywood couple goes to such lengths to be photographed in public? Name one. While you rack your brain, I'm moving on to...

His smile -- I was laughing like that this weekend, only it was because I was telling the funniest joke in the world and just couldn't get through it. Tom knows what that's like, cause his 'girlfriend' and the photos and the press -- well, it's the most hilarious joke ever.

He must have to grin like that. He must have to to keep from crying himself into a pool of tears. (he is gay, afterall.)

Arguh.

Ok. So.

Sorry.

It's been a while. But I'm back and with photos, so let's forget the catching up and get right to it.



What in the world is going on here?

People, look. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are not dating. They aren't a couple. I doubt they're even friends.

That's because -- yoohoo -- Tom Cruise is gay. And this... well, this is a quintessential Hollywood deal. He's gay and hiding it and she's in desperate need of a career spike before she becomes a has been.

Frankly, I commend Katie's PR people. They've done their homework. Tom's quite gifted in rising women to stardom. Think back. What was Nicole Kidman before Days of Thunder, for which Tom picked her? And Penelope Cruz before "Vanilla Sky?" Well, let's say this: They were huge in Australia/Spain.

Tom's folks are no dummies, either. Get a young gal, a really young gal. The youngest legal gal possible. It'll make a better, jucier story.

And so while we're talking about it, let's just be honest.

(1) No, there's nothing wrong with being gay. Gay is great.

(2) No, most certainly no, Tom Cruise will never just come out of the closet because no one's going to believe that a gay guy can save the world and there is absolutely no audience for a gay dude version of "Ellen." Would you cast Jack McFarlin as a fast-livin' hard lovin' race car driver/fighter pilot/bar tender? Yeah, me either.

In case you're blind, these are the clues:

1. Only a gay man would hold a woman's arm AND hand like that when getting out of a car. It's either one or the other or neither for straight men. But never both.

2. She's snickering like she can barely hold back how freakin' funny it is that she's in on Tom's joke on the entire world.

3. Look at Katie before. Dark. Mysterious. She's a bit less inhibited now and quite a bit more whymiscal. He's obviously giving her fashion advice, as any good gay-guy friend would. In fact, I bet she negotiated that as part of her deal for being seen with him. (It's true, he would have been wise to suggest an actual color for that dress, but there was a reason for that, too. See #4)

4. Now focus. A pictures worth a thousand words. He's wearing black, she's wearing a very light color... he fades into the blackground, she stands out against him. And that grip... he's leading her, almost falling behind her. This is not about Tom and Katie. This photo's all about her making an entrance that takes her beyond 'that girl on Dawson's Creek.' He's holding up his end of the bargain to get her noticed, and is doing a damn fine job. But then again, he's had years of practice.

5. Also, what's with his smile? It's totally scaring me.

I wouldn't have spent so much time on this, except it's important for you all to embrace the truth. Take it and free yourself from the lies.

Namaste