Yay, first blog in…how long? Wowzers, too long to mention. But can ya’ll (and by that I mean me and Andy and the two other people who read this thing) really blame me? I wish I could have told colorful, illuminating stories about projectile vomiting into the toilet or spending most of the last couple of the months going to work and coming right home to the bed or living room couch. I did read a lot of books though. And watch a lot of Buffy and Top Chef. Speaking of books, I read two so far that have stuck out in my mind, both made me wish the book wasn’t over when I got to the last page: One Mississippi by Mark Childress and On Beauty by Zadie Smith. Both deal with race, as most books that I enjoy do, and deal with it in alternately humorous and painful ways. Both made me laugh out loud in public places. I’ll be sure to give each it’s due later, when I’m not trying to sum up the last 3 months.
I’m finally starting to show. When I went to the cleaners to get a clasp moved over on this new vintage jacket I bought last weekend, the bossy owner practically yelled at me, “You pregnant, right? Why move it? It just make your belly look bigga!” First thing: I kind of knew it was silly to want to move a button so that I could close a coat over my now swelling belly. I can wear it open for now and close it after I’ve slimmed down. It’s not like I’ll want that much space later, the jacket is- nevermind I’ll post a picture later, but let me just say that it is AWESOME. So me. I bought it at this place called Lady Luck Vintage where the “so me” coats simply brim over…although most of them are way too big for me. Gee. I love saying that, especially now. Anyway, second thing: The cleaners lady must not like money. When I bring in something that she thinks doesn’t need fixing or if it’s something she thinks I should do myself (Hi! I can’t sew!) she tries to give it back to me. It’s annoying, but also sweet. We both look out for my money, see.
And since I’ve recently pepped up, I’ve done quite a bit of shopping: a new bag and vest from Fossil, Boots and wingtips from the Doc Martens store, a new bra from Vickie’s (this is TMI but my boobs are HUGE!), a belly tubey thing from Mimi’s Maternity- the first and last thing I’ll buy there. That store sucks so much preggo ass, just not worth the money and the clothes are effing tacky and cheesy looking. I’m not trying to look homeless while I’m pregnant, kay thanx. Anyway, hair stuff from Curlmart.com…shopping is again all to the good, although brushing up against people still makes me want to shove sharp things into my orifices. Why must…they…be..there???
I have a new job, one that I really like. It’s at a university, and I am so happy to be away from the construction site where funky smells and ignorant ass men abounded. Ugh.
Okay, I need a bit of a break. For later: The HORRIBLE writing of The L Word, the beauty of Ugly Betty, and the lameness of blond haired, blue eyed Indians reaping the benefits of the casinos while black Indians go without. Not to say that money is all that is driving people to apply for tribal status, it isn’t. The money issue isn’t what’s important (well, mostly), although there are a lot of people of color who actually need money for housing and clothes and those that already have that can have more. I’m just so glad to see that whites aren’t the only ones who enjoy discriminating against blacks. Jesus. How can you apply the title of “Freedman” to any and everyone who is black? Is it really so important to keep the blacks separate? “Oh, you’re a descendant of a freedman, so you actually have no Native blood in you. Your ancestors lived with ours, but didn’t intermarry.” For real? Does that help you get to sleep at night?
Man, money can make a lot of people come out of the woodwork. Now Paley McWhiterstein can be rich and exotic! So, chew on the article for a little bit. If your blood doesn’t boil while perusing through the pictures and reading about these people, then…okay. Wow. So much more to say! Laters.