Sports Night

We went to a Blues game last night. If they hadn't been plastered in "their worst game of the season", it would have been a great time.

Oh, who am I kidding? I left the house and went somewhere I've only been once before, had a pretzel and some cotton candy, and got to see my favorite player. It wasn't a bad night at all.

We went for a walk between period 2 and 3, and I think someone in the row behind us said, "Now there's a dedicated fan" when I walked by with my hand on my stomach in that pregnant lady way. Not that there were many people in the row behind us. The rink was depressingly empty, as the poor Blues currently have the lowest point total in the entire NHL.

You know what though? I still had a good time being out of the house. Those nights will be much further and fewer between quite soon, and I didn't go into labor there in the arena. It could have been much worse.

We happened past the Edward Jones Dome on the way. I have to stress that I have nothing in particular against the Rams unless they are playing the Redskins. Truly, I'd say the same thing about any team's field if it looked like the EJD. That being said, the hospital where we're taking our Lamaze class is less sterile looking than the Rams' stadium. By a wide margin. It was the Purell version of a football stadium. It was honestly depressing looking. I've never seen a dome in person before. I have to say, I'd prefer being rained or snowed on as I watched a game.

Not So Subtle

So, many of you may know the woes I had in the earlier (and not so earlier) days of the pregnancy, when no one seemed to be able to tell I was pregnant at all. I must admit, my face still hasn't filled out one bit. People who can only see me from the shoulders and up or so still don't seem to realize I'm pregnant (restaurant servers pushing margaritas on me, the lady at the DMV who was surprised when I stepped back to have my picture taken for my new license, etc.)

However, as you can see from this lovely, headless self-portrait, it's not really all that subtle when you can actually see my stomach now. In fact, my arms are quite nearly not long enough to reach the keyboard on my laptop as I lie about trying to use it. It's gotten further and further away for months now and at this point, it's closer to my knees than it is to my waist by a wide margin.

I still feel outclassed by some of the women at our Lamaze class though, many of whom are weeks behind me as we are just a tad late (only by a few weeks) in starting our classes. Now some of those girls look PREGNANT. As in, I betcha their servers at T.G.I.Fridays don't offer them the Grande Margarita Especial.

Just a tad under two months to go, unless little miss kick and stretch has other plans. Sometimes I think she plans to just come through my abdomen Alien-style. She seems to be trying it even right this second. Hopefully my singer's abs present enough of a barrier to save me that.

The Kreepy King

Do those new Burger King television ads oog out anyone other than me?

I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's the plastic, single-expression face. Maybe it's the faux fur. Maybe it's the fact that his head is way too big for his body. I just don't know. He's just not right somehow.

Don't get me wrong. If I want a quick burger, the BK Lounge is usually where I go because I don't like those goofy onions and puffy buns on McDonald's hamburgers. I have no issues with the product, when used in moderation and as an occasional treat. But this dude is just wrong.

The Scapegoat

You don't know who this guy is. If you do know him on sight, I'd wager you know more about current politics than anyone should. His name is Scooter. And if he doesn't get a pardon or an easy judge, he's going to jail for stuff I think most reasonable people would deduce that plenty of other people were in on.

He may not be saying this out loud, but he has to be thinking it. "I'm a scapegoat! Look at me! Don't look at Karl Rove! Gee, my boss didn't know anything about this! I don't know anything myself! I can't even remember my first name—that's why everyone calls me 'Scooter' for God's sake!"

Best. Apprentice. Ever.

Spoilers.

Run now. If you care. Which you might not.

First, a lot of Carolyn, my hero. Second...

"All four of you are fired."

Whoo! Didn't see that coming. I thought maybe he'd fire two of them. He's done that before. But four? All of whom were equally inept and undeserving? Awesome. I mean it.

"Oh, but you won't care..."

If one more person tells me that I will someday soon not care about something that seems fundamentally, diametrically opposed to who I know I am now and what I am comfortable and capable of, I will honestly yell at them until my voice is hoarse.

I don't care if I'm wrong. I don't care if they're right. That's still an arrogant and dismissive thing to say. I really hope I've never said anything that stupid and insensitive to anyone else. If I have done so to you, accept this as my formal apology.

What is it about this time right before you become a parent that makes some of the people around you treat you like a child? Doesn't that irony strike anyone as odd? And I know it's not just me. I have recently spoken to a couple of people who were recently in this situation and it happened to them, too.

There are many of you who may be reading this who have been nothing but supportive and really only talked to me about pregnancy related things when I brought them up or asked them a question or for their opinion. I love you people.

Good lord. Is October nearly gone already? Heavens. I can hear the clock ticking louder now. Maybe this is just me freaking out.

But I mean it about that "you won't care about _____" stuff. Seriously, don't ever say that to anyone. I can't imagine anything more disrespectful to their view of who they are and what they need in order to be comfortable.

Zero Wing Rhapsody

Okay, I know All Your Base is played out.

But the AYB version of Bohemian Rhapsody is pretty funny.