Joe is snoring softly beside me, stirring when my lobster claws tap too hard on the keyboard. I'm secretly typing harder so he'll stop snoring and wake up to make me coffee. And also, so I won't be bored. I'm 5, so???
I had smoked clam alfredo pizza for dinner last night (oddly, really delicious) and I'm currently waiting until a reasonable hour that its leftovers can be devoured (absolutely not shared) and qualify as brunch. Because eating anything with smoked clams for breakfast is just gross.
I've had the same continuous headache for going on three weeks now. And let me just say that this headache not only keeps me from sleeping and makes me want to rip my head off of my body for an hour or two, it makes me feel guilty because I'm mad at my child for the first time. I expected to be mad when the babe is two and coloring on my living room walls, not while it's still in the womb. Baby F is being quite stubborn and not letting up which reminds me that this is most definitely MY child.
The Food Network and The Cooking Channel are currently my version of porn. Bon Appetit and my Barefoot Contessa cookbooks are my Playboys.
Last night at dinner, a friend we ran into asked if I was getting fat yet? Who the hell says that? But for the record, no Asshole, I'm not getting fat yet. My doctor actually told me I needed to start putting on some weight and I'm kind of worried about that. But thanks so much for asking.
I no longer enjoy the taste of beer. Especially Guinness. And I'm heartbroken. Little terd. Sorry, still mad.
Good lord, Joe just handed me my coffee. My loud typing paid off.
Aaannd he just asked me about breakfast...
He has absolutely no idea what he's in for.
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