i been caught stealing once when i was five i enjoy stealing it's a simple as that

It is Tuesday, Confessional Day, which has is a recent addition to Tuesday - Diarrhea Day, which is still in full force in our house. I think my immune system is getting back at me for buying yet another bag. Oh nuts - I owe you all a picture of said bag. However, said bag and camera are downstairs and considering that I some digestive issues and the lung capacity of a small squirrel, I am not moving. It will have to wait.

So... on to Tuesday Confession day. The other day, I watched the movie Eight Below with Paul Walker in it. It truly is a great and heartwarming story - I cried all the way through it. It would seem, however, that my subconscious, or my "ID" if you will for those Dr. Freud lovers out there was not so interested in the fluffy dogs and their sweet courageness. It was MUCH more interested in Paul Walkers' apparently perfect bone structure and fabulous abs, because I dreampt about them ALL NIGHT!
The main premise of my dream - and I'm only sharing this because I find it totally amusing - was that Paul and I somehow ended up as roommates in college (too cute!), and I of course immediately had a huge crush on him. But my sad little co-ed self esteem was sure he would never even look at me because he is SO HOT! But, one fateful day in the cafeteria, my sweet roomie Paul stuck up for me when the lunch lady said I had missed the deadline for pie (I was very distraught), and he used his suave and charm and got me my pie! True love!!! Later that day as we were both brushing our teeth in our tiny bathroom, we locked eyes, and then kissed with gooey toothpaste mouths. I'll leave the rest to your imagination, but suffice it to say, I will never watch a Paul Walker movie the same again. Heavy sigh.
Anyway, do the rest of you have dreams like this? And then do you feel guilty because your husband was not your nighttime McDreamy? I do!! Especially when I keep reliving that first kiss feeling over and over during the next day. It somehow seems wrong. I asked Ammon if he ever has dreams about other people, ex-girlfriends, etc., and he is always really vague and says that there is never a face and that he hardly ever remembers any of it. I knew it! I am a tramp in my dreams!
So Paul Walker is one thing since I've never met the man *sniff* and never will *sniff sniff*, but what about when you dream about an ex? Is this like your mind wanting to cheat? What's a little alarming to me is that since the PW dream, I have had similar dreams every single night since, but all with an old boyfriend, and mostly the same one. Yeeeeek! Do you ever wonder if your old boyfriends dream about you? My sister keeps in touch with the sister of one of my old boyfriends (was that a long enough connection?). Should I find out? I think not, because there really is no surreptitious way around that. "So, do you ever dream about Micaela?" "No, why would I? Is she so sad still that she dreams about me all the time even though she is happily married and so am I? Pathetic." This is a conversation I prefer to not take place. But darn it I'm curious!!!

I must hear all your stories out there. Be not afraid to post! This is true confessions time! Do you dream about ex boyfriends or just the Paul Walker/Jon Favreau/Zack Braff dreams (those are my most recent celebrity dreams). Tell all!! I must know!!! Really, you will be setting my heart at rest. Unless you are commenting that I am an unfaithful girl who should be punished for her subconscious' nightly escapades through the land of the naughty.

Chestnuuuuuuts roasting on an open fiiiiiiiiiire. Jack Frosssst nipping at your noooooooose.

I have a proposition for all of you. And NO, to those of you with the dirty minds - shame on you! Not THAT kind of proposition.

Due to the extreeeeeemely inflated ego I have developed as a result of all of your kind comments about the sheer hilarity of my life and how much you think I, little old moi should write a book, I have decided, to write a book! Well, that may be overshooting the mark a titch. Maybe we could just call it a jaunty little collection of my thoughts and whims as related to....and here's where you come in.

Realizing that I have no ability to create and actual storyline or any sensical dialogue, I was thinking my "book" could be more "bloggeresque" if you will. Just a sort of collection of my thoughts on as many subjects as I can think of and have the ninnies to write about.

So, I would like your ideas. What subjects would you like to take my critical eye, cynical views and slightly irreverent notions to? Pregnancy can certainly be added to list, although it may make more sense to make that it's OWN "book", although if you like that idea, than I want to know what you think my chapters should be.
Example: Chapter 1 "My thoughts and feelings on...pee inducing vomit". Too much?

The questions then are these:

1) Should I nip this is the bud with my salad tongs, or perservere - on to fame and much glorying?
2) If you think I should nip this in the bud, please turn around, find the cord that connects to your hard drive, and PULL IT OUT OF THE WALL YOU DISLOYAL MEANIE!!! You are forever banned from my blog!
If you suggested that I persevere, please move on to Question 3.
3)What format should the "book" take? A bloogeresque/Bridget Jones'ish diary approach with salacious stories and smoot. Or is that Smut? Aaaah yes. Smoot was someone who had a building name after him at BYU. Anywho.
OR: I could do a bitter diatribe about the ravaging furnaces of hell that are pregnancy.

4) If you like the former bloggeresque (that word looks more and more like booger everytime I type it) mode of writing, I need SUBJECTS. And lots of them. Give me anything! It could be about Diet Coke - Nectar of the Gods, or about Britneys lack of cotton for the nethers. Although I really don't think there is enough to fill a whole chapter on that. There isn't much more to say than "GOOD LAND WOMAN. YOU HAVE TWO CHILDREN. No one wants to see your goodies anymore". Get your naked little bottom over to KMart and by yourself some Jaclyn Smith panties and stop scaring the children - yours and the rest of the world."

Anyway. Thoughts?

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.

Whoooooaaaablleleeeeecccchhhhh. I don't really know how to spell the sound effects of one barfing, but that is peaceful background music of the evening. This week has been a non-stop circus cacapohany of disgusting bodily functions. Wheee!
It started with me on Sunday coughing up whatever sludge had apparently taken up residence in my lungs and of course was accompanied by noseblowing, sneezing, hacking, and many varieties of something that sounded like: "uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".
Monday was Addy providing me with the most monstruous baby throw ups you have ever seen. She actually threw up so much on me that not only did she cover my whole sweater, half a leg and the floor from wall to wall, but somehow managed to save an extra cup of the chunky stuff for...mommy's cleavage. The funny thing is that I did my darnedest to mop it out, but it was so cold outside that it turned into milky ice chunks in there! NOT A PLEASANT SENSATION!!
The next day was Tuesday, and Tuesday's at our house are..... Diarrhea Day!!! (how in the world do you spell that??) You might be suprised at the force with which a 15 lb baby is able to expel things from that tiny little scphincter. But don't let's it's small size fool you...that little schpincter could blow a Hell's Angel off his hog!!! She seems to really enjoy it too. She gets this almost Dr. Evil'ish laugh going after a good puke or blowout.
Wednesday proved to be Vomit Day round 2, Daddy Style. I have never in my life known someone who throws up as often, or with as much pure force than Ammon. Seriously - he pulled his shoulder this time from wretching so hard - and this is not a first. Poor man. I'm worried that he either going to get hemerroids from straining so hard, or that vein in his neck will just explode! There's got to be a medication for this sort of thing. If this doesn't happen from the barfing, it will surely happen because of the competitive Diarrhea Ammon was also working on on Wed. Whether he was competing with Addy, or his stomach, I don't know. Just let me say, that I was the big loser that day. In many ways.
Thursday is groan day. Groan because you're tired. Groan because your shoulder hurts. Groan because you haven't thrown up but you wish you would. Grown because your XBox isn't working and neither is On Demand. I'll let Ammon know how much sympathy this elicited.

And on to everyone's favorite day of the week...FRIDAY!

In my house, it's Friday-stick-your-finger-down-your-throat day. And no, I am not a bulimic. I seem to have developed a queer medical condition where I can swallow nothing larger that the size of a gnat without violently thrashing around and making strange gurgling noises (Cassy can attest to this) whilst I try to tame the wild beast in my throat. This has gone on my entire life, much to the amusement of all my family who totally ignore me now when it happens, and the friends that happen to witness it for the first time and find my family to be HIGHLY insensitive since no one lifts a finger to help me. It has also allowed many high minded folk (occasionally doctors) that kindly let me know that I AM CRAZY PEOPLE and it's all in my head. Hmmm. I hadn't ever thought of that. Thank you!! Problem solved!!! For those of you out there who may have made these comments at one point. I don't hold it against you. I may tell you that you might want to pluck your toe hair as rebuttal.

Anyway, it's been especially bad this week for 2 reasons: during pregancy, it was grand. I could swallow eighteen Satsuma's in one shot and not even bat an eye (there are some small advantages to having every smooth muscle in your body just poop out and relax for 9 months). But soon after I delivered...zzzzzzzwwwwwppppp. It snapped shut like a mouse trap and I cannot even swallow my happy drug and an ibuprofen together, much less anything larger - like those HORSE CALCIUM PILLS!! How does anyone swallow these? Your espohagus would have to be a 2" diameter plastic pipe hose!
Back to this week. I have also (as noted on Sunday) had a cold which added to a bit of swelling in those regions which has caused even greater troubles. In the last two days, I have choked on: an antidepressant, a piece of bread, bagel, french fries, and lettuce. How does one choke on lettuce? It's mostly water anyway!
This would all be much less problematic if a) they would come straight back up or go all the way down (they like to lodge roughly right in between my boobs for about 30 mins or so, all the while giving me strange gassy pains and gassy sounds and gurgling noises again, or...b) if it didn't happen AT MY DESK~! It happened 4 times in the last 2 days that I have either tried to "choke discreetly" in my trash can (I put quotes in because I think the phrase choke discreetly is an oxymoron), or run maddly to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth while making noises that sound similar to what I think a drowning seal would sound like. sort of a half bark/gurgle.
Anyway, I know they all think I'm bulimic. I'll prove it to them too: "Hey baby, you don't come by this size 14/16 doing nothin! You gotta work at it girl!" You'd have to be pretty dim to think I was a bulimic.

Anywho, that is my blooogering of the night. It is 9:38 and soooo WAY past Mommy's bedtime. I am pathetic.

Aaaaahhh - on a happy note - tomorrow is a MOMENTOUS OCCASION. Hold your breath..........for tomorrow, I have FINALLY FOUND and will receive in my hot little hand......................................................................................................................................



THE PERFECT BAG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I would show you a picture now but that would ruin the surprise. Check baby tomorrow for Mama's Christmas present to herself! Is it in poor taste to actually wrap it and put in under the tree? Perhaps not, but why waste this month when I can be GALIVANTING AROUND TOWN WITH IT like some cool famous person.