A couple of nights ago, after running several errands after work, The Hubs and I finally decided that it was almost nine and we should probably eat dinner. However, we could not agree on something. I wanted Wendy's but somehow ended up taking a turn too far from one. He was not keen on the Wendy's idea so he was more than happy to throw other suggestions. They ran the gamut but I didn't feel like any of them. I finally just made him decide before my stomach ate the baby. He decided on Boston Market.
We walked in and it was close to closing time but weren't phased by the fact that the sides were well congealed with burnt bottoms. I struggled with the menu because I had chicken for lunch and I wasn't feeling much like turkey. Then, I saw an ad on the wall advertising ham and I got so excited. I LOVE Boston Market's ham. They used to have it on the menu and then one day it just vanished into thin air. I was so happy to see it again, I did a dance and The Hubs hates when I do that. When the guy asked for my order, I could not say "ham carver" fast enough. He nodded and walked away and I jumped up and down and clapped (something else The Hubs hates).
Two seconds later he came back. "No more ham."
"Just get a salad. You like the salads here," The Hubs said in a not so subtle attempt to derail my fury train. A salad was not ham. If i suggested a salad instead of his beloved meatloaf, he would have laughed so hard he peed his pants.
I eyeballed the menu again but nothing was striking me. Meanwhile The Hubs put in his order while i struggled.
"You want to leave, don't you?" He asked me. I nodded yes. "But you can stay and eat your meatloaf while it is warm and i can get something after," i offered. "No, I'll just get it to go and you can get something else."
The dude at the register put the nail in the coffin. "This was the last day for ham. It was just a holiday special."
"Of course it is!" I shot back. "First it was the Cosi veggie muffellatta, then DQs butterscotch dip it and now this. Honestly, I don't know why you ever took it off the menu in the menu in the first place. It obviously sells well because you are out of it."
"We ran out hours ago," he said not helping his case.
"See," I said. "This furthers my theory that there is a conspiracy against my uterus. I have a craving for something and it gets swallowed into the black whole of retired menu items. Why now? I don't understand."
The guy at the register was obviously perplexed by my rant or the term uterus. The Hubs paid for his meatloaf and I stormed out but not before saying I was through with Boston Market until they bring back the ham. Something else my husband hates to hear me say because he knows in a week or two I will be back just like I go back to Cosi and Homegoods and all the other stores I stormed out of over the years. I just need to cool off.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Babies R Us is a sexy time, yes
So, New Year's Day meant a haul up to Babies R Us in Danbury to look at all the crap I put on my registry online. Also, I had some venting to do as it seemed everything I put on said registry a month a go was low inventory. I was just looking for a good reason to vent since that is what I seem to be the best at these days. In fact, I think I have been what The Hubs calls a Rage-a-hol since Christmas Eve. But, my Christmas Eve would have made anyone rage because after sitting in a boring ass civil trial it then took me an hour to get home (I live less than 2 miles from my job) because there were way too many last minute assholes on the road). When I finally got home, the kid let me eat about a quarter of a salad before pressing herself into my freaking esophagus.
Then, we went to the bakery to get the cakes and pies and I saw the line out the door so I raged again. I told The Hubs if I started screaming that my water broke but I just HAVE to get this cake before I go to the hospital to shut up and play along. "I wouldn't put it past you" he said before I spotted the lone sample of an ENORMOUS piece of poundcake and when he turned to see why I suddenly quiet, he started laughing because I was trying to wedge the whole piece in my mouth. I was starving. It had been a whole hour since I ate 4 bites of salad. He said it was just nice to not hear me screaming. I told him the piece was left there just for me as my reward for a shitteous day. "No," he said, "the piece was left there because it was huge and anyone else would have been embarrassed to take it." Well, lucky for him, I'm not that type of gal!
So, cut to New Year's Day after filling up on breakfast, it was off to do the registry. Has anyone else noticed that when I make The Hubs do these daunting tasks like registries and getting up at the crack of dawn to get a fake tree, I use food to drug him into bliss? Of course, the store was short staffed on the count of this being a holiday and ALMOST everyone is out shopping. I nicely ask a sales associate to tell someone to get their ass over to the registry department ASAP. I meet Betti, with an I, and I don't know why that amused me so much but when I got a gander at her name tag, I commented (outside my head) "Betti, with an I." She printed out my registry and handed me a gun and off we went. But, not before I asked her about the low inventory which I already knew the answer to. Of course it is a new year which means new products but the complete line would not be up to date until the end of February, when I am due, so a helluva lotta good that does me.
Note to anyone who looks at my registry: Yes, there are two playpens and two strollers on there. I am not greedy. I just have a first choice and a second choice since my first choice barked "LOW INVENTORY" when I scanned it. Sometimes my second choice barked it too in which case I barked, "F U BABIES R US, F U AND YOUR LOW INVENTORY."
So, after going around and testing the weight of strollers (since I will be having the most interaction with it and my hands are shot from typing) and scanning a few things The Hubs throws a wrench into my pretty in pink plans telling me that I may want to register for more gender neutral stuff in the event we had another baby and it was a boy. Oh my god, the confusion. Deleting, rescanning, swearing. It was a mess. And people who see you registering have to give their two cents. "Get this, it's a lifesaver/I prefer these/oh, you will never use that." While I was thankful for these tips I was getting annoyed because the store is virtually IMPOSSIBLE to navigate. I was following around people trying to find stuff on registries and listening to them bitch just so I felt more in my element of crabbiness and impatience.
About 2 hours and 7 registry pages later I handed my gun to Betti, with an I, but not before I attempted to put it against my own skull and fire it. Then, I told The Hubs I was hungry and we were near a Crack Lobster which meant one thing, molten chocolate chip cookie with ice cream. Of course, because he had more than 4 bites of his lumberjack breakfast before finishing mine, he was NOT hungry. He was so not hungry that in attempt to buy his stomach some time he suggested we go to Destination Maternity. Still drugged from breakfast I see. I declined the offer because I am SO sick of maternity clothes and extremely looking forward to dumping this bland black and gray wardrobe. Hahaha, did I tell you that the waitress at Capital Grill thought it was so cute that my coat said Motherhood on the label when she brought it over for me. I explained because it was from Motherhood Maternity not that I was sewing Motherhood labels into my clothes to remember this period of my life.
A couple of days later we get a call from my in-laws who were in the Babies R Us in Milford looking for my stroller but they were mad because it was not there because it was low inventory and on clearance. Then, they went to get the infant car seat. Same problem. The Hubs told them to try the Danbury store and gave them the number. I'm not sure what happened when my MIL called but somehow they ended up giving her a number to get it online and that number was a phone sex line. Just to make sure she didn't misdial, she called twice. Now, she was pissed off at BRus because not only were they screwing with my registry but now they made her call a phone sex line and she was worried that her employer would see it on her phonebill and she would lose her job. The Hubs assured her that she was allowed to call a wrong number before she was deemed a pervert. But, that did not stop er from calling the police and reporting herself just in case.
When I called Betti, with an I, the next day to express some concern about this and to mark my carseat as purchased on my registry, my MIL must have already given Betti, with an I, an earful because she was quick to defend the fact her employees were not wrong and my MIL dialed 1-800 and not 1-888. "But seriously Betti, with an I, if your number is that close to a phone sex line, shouldn't you consider changing it?" She could have cared less much like any retail employee I run across lately, especially one that has to deal with hormonal pregnant ladies all day. The Hubs was ready to threaten to pull the registry (like they would care, has he seen how many pregnant people are out there right now? For every one that pulls the registry, 10 more come waddling through the door with their mobiles on their minds and their minds on the mobiles.
Then, we went to the bakery to get the cakes and pies and I saw the line out the door so I raged again. I told The Hubs if I started screaming that my water broke but I just HAVE to get this cake before I go to the hospital to shut up and play along. "I wouldn't put it past you" he said before I spotted the lone sample of an ENORMOUS piece of poundcake and when he turned to see why I suddenly quiet, he started laughing because I was trying to wedge the whole piece in my mouth. I was starving. It had been a whole hour since I ate 4 bites of salad. He said it was just nice to not hear me screaming. I told him the piece was left there just for me as my reward for a shitteous day. "No," he said, "the piece was left there because it was huge and anyone else would have been embarrassed to take it." Well, lucky for him, I'm not that type of gal!
So, cut to New Year's Day after filling up on breakfast, it was off to do the registry. Has anyone else noticed that when I make The Hubs do these daunting tasks like registries and getting up at the crack of dawn to get a fake tree, I use food to drug him into bliss? Of course, the store was short staffed on the count of this being a holiday and ALMOST everyone is out shopping. I nicely ask a sales associate to tell someone to get their ass over to the registry department ASAP. I meet Betti, with an I, and I don't know why that amused me so much but when I got a gander at her name tag, I commented (outside my head) "Betti, with an I." She printed out my registry and handed me a gun and off we went. But, not before I asked her about the low inventory which I already knew the answer to. Of course it is a new year which means new products but the complete line would not be up to date until the end of February, when I am due, so a helluva lotta good that does me.
Note to anyone who looks at my registry: Yes, there are two playpens and two strollers on there. I am not greedy. I just have a first choice and a second choice since my first choice barked "LOW INVENTORY" when I scanned it. Sometimes my second choice barked it too in which case I barked, "F U BABIES R US, F U AND YOUR LOW INVENTORY."
So, after going around and testing the weight of strollers (since I will be having the most interaction with it and my hands are shot from typing) and scanning a few things The Hubs throws a wrench into my pretty in pink plans telling me that I may want to register for more gender neutral stuff in the event we had another baby and it was a boy. Oh my god, the confusion. Deleting, rescanning, swearing. It was a mess. And people who see you registering have to give their two cents. "Get this, it's a lifesaver/I prefer these/oh, you will never use that." While I was thankful for these tips I was getting annoyed because the store is virtually IMPOSSIBLE to navigate. I was following around people trying to find stuff on registries and listening to them bitch just so I felt more in my element of crabbiness and impatience.
About 2 hours and 7 registry pages later I handed my gun to Betti, with an I, but not before I attempted to put it against my own skull and fire it. Then, I told The Hubs I was hungry and we were near a Crack Lobster which meant one thing, molten chocolate chip cookie with ice cream. Of course, because he had more than 4 bites of his lumberjack breakfast before finishing mine, he was NOT hungry. He was so not hungry that in attempt to buy his stomach some time he suggested we go to Destination Maternity. Still drugged from breakfast I see. I declined the offer because I am SO sick of maternity clothes and extremely looking forward to dumping this bland black and gray wardrobe. Hahaha, did I tell you that the waitress at Capital Grill thought it was so cute that my coat said Motherhood on the label when she brought it over for me. I explained because it was from Motherhood Maternity not that I was sewing Motherhood labels into my clothes to remember this period of my life.
A couple of days later we get a call from my in-laws who were in the Babies R Us in Milford looking for my stroller but they were mad because it was not there because it was low inventory and on clearance. Then, they went to get the infant car seat. Same problem. The Hubs told them to try the Danbury store and gave them the number. I'm not sure what happened when my MIL called but somehow they ended up giving her a number to get it online and that number was a phone sex line. Just to make sure she didn't misdial, she called twice. Now, she was pissed off at BRus because not only were they screwing with my registry but now they made her call a phone sex line and she was worried that her employer would see it on her phonebill and she would lose her job. The Hubs assured her that she was allowed to call a wrong number before she was deemed a pervert. But, that did not stop er from calling the police and reporting herself just in case.
When I called Betti, with an I, the next day to express some concern about this and to mark my carseat as purchased on my registry, my MIL must have already given Betti, with an I, an earful because she was quick to defend the fact her employees were not wrong and my MIL dialed 1-800 and not 1-888. "But seriously Betti, with an I, if your number is that close to a phone sex line, shouldn't you consider changing it?" She could have cared less much like any retail employee I run across lately, especially one that has to deal with hormonal pregnant ladies all day. The Hubs was ready to threaten to pull the registry (like they would care, has he seen how many pregnant people are out there right now? For every one that pulls the registry, 10 more come waddling through the door with their mobiles on their minds and their minds on the mobiles.
Friday, January 2, 2009
The point..... not the point I was hoping for
So, apparently, long gone are the days of lamaze classes. Welcome to the age of "birthing preparation classes" where they pack everything into two three hour sessions from 7 - 10 p.m. (Like I can go that long without eating or needing a nap) all for the tune of $225. I flip flopped back and forth on taking these classes. Really, with the internet, I can learn about anything I want. Plus, my What to Expect book is like my bible. Really, my biggest fear is that I will be in labor and some nurse will say to me, "do your breathing exercises" and I will have to mimic whatever I saw in Baby Mamma.
So, after some pre-registration, I was told to bring two bed pillows and a watch that counts seconds to the first class which is a mere 24 days before my due date. Last minute Sally. "Do our cellphones count seconds?" I asked Stew. Looks like we'll be hitting up Walmart soon for a stop watch.
Happy that I was going to be prepared, yet still bitter about the $225, I went back to Court. One of the Public Defenders came up to me and eyed me up and down. "I may get in trouble for what I am about to ask you, but are you pregnant?" See, for a while now I have not acknowledged the fact I am pregnant until someone asks. I've just been letting everyone go under the guise that I gained a lot of weight in the past few months. It didn't help matters that I got "Girl Spread" before I got a belly. From the way I waddle now and often put my hand on my stomach while I grimace in pain due to getting kicked in the ribs hourly, I would imagine these movements would give it away. Not to mention how my badge sometimes moves all by itself thanks to a healthy kick or punch. So, yes, I'm either pregnant or the Matrix. I resisted the urge to burst out in tears telling her that I just got fat and I wish people would stop asking me that. But, she is so sweet, I couldn't do this to her so I fessed up that I, indeed, was knocked up.
"Have you gotten to the THE POINT yet?" She asked. I told her if she meant the point of uncomfortableness and just wanting the baby out, then yes. She said The Point meant the day she woke up in a panic screaming bloody murder until all her nieghbors came to see what was going on and she was having a nervous breakdown.
"Um, no, I haven't gotten to that point yet."
"Good," she said. "And whatever you do, DO NOT take a birthing class. I went to one and never went back."
I wish she told me this about ten minutes earlier.
So, after some pre-registration, I was told to bring two bed pillows and a watch that counts seconds to the first class which is a mere 24 days before my due date. Last minute Sally. "Do our cellphones count seconds?" I asked Stew. Looks like we'll be hitting up Walmart soon for a stop watch.
Happy that I was going to be prepared, yet still bitter about the $225, I went back to Court. One of the Public Defenders came up to me and eyed me up and down. "I may get in trouble for what I am about to ask you, but are you pregnant?" See, for a while now I have not acknowledged the fact I am pregnant until someone asks. I've just been letting everyone go under the guise that I gained a lot of weight in the past few months. It didn't help matters that I got "Girl Spread" before I got a belly. From the way I waddle now and often put my hand on my stomach while I grimace in pain due to getting kicked in the ribs hourly, I would imagine these movements would give it away. Not to mention how my badge sometimes moves all by itself thanks to a healthy kick or punch. So, yes, I'm either pregnant or the Matrix. I resisted the urge to burst out in tears telling her that I just got fat and I wish people would stop asking me that. But, she is so sweet, I couldn't do this to her so I fessed up that I, indeed, was knocked up.
"Have you gotten to the THE POINT yet?" She asked. I told her if she meant the point of uncomfortableness and just wanting the baby out, then yes. She said The Point meant the day she woke up in a panic screaming bloody murder until all her nieghbors came to see what was going on and she was having a nervous breakdown.
"Um, no, I haven't gotten to that point yet."
"Good," she said. "And whatever you do, DO NOT take a birthing class. I went to one and never went back."
I wish she told me this about ten minutes earlier.
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