Friday, March 29, 2013

And Now More Thoughts on Baby Names

Good Friday, interwebs.

I spent the morning treadmilling at a glacial pace (kidney infection, ya'll... should've worn a shirt that said that to defend myself to the judgey) with Mr. T.  

Sidenote - I met him at his gym this morning instead of mine.  His gym is much bigger and has a ginormous ladies room.  It is a labyrinth of corridors and doors - Stork's gym tip for the day:  should you find yourself in such a locker room, don't go whipping open doors in search of a bathroom because one discovery will be more naked than the next.  Also, while I am by no means a cooties stickler, I'm nonetheless in total wonder that every otherwise well coiffed woman exiting the bathroom did not wash her hands after.  I don't understand bothering to wear a high maintenance pink gym outfit and douse yourself with cucumber perfume, and then proceed to use gym equipment with your sweaty urine hands.

But I digress.

Today's gym discussion (Mr. T on the beast of the netherworld otherwise known as an elliptical, I racing a snail on my treadmill) consisted of:
  1. How scary it is that they hang television screens directly over where a person's head is on any given piece of equipment (what could go wrong, it's California!  It's not like the ground could shake!). THat led to whether or not it would be better to have the heavy old school TV's of my gym fall on your head where you would instantly die, or have a flat screen TV of his gym fall on you where it's a 'but what quality of life would she have?' issue, and
  2. Horrible baby names.
In one of my recent scattered posts, I mentioned that my half sister (half as in I'm adopted and we share a birthfather, not half as in she was the victim of a falling TV) is knocked up.  I'm going to be a sort of aunt, and I do wish I could be happier about it.  Not that thrilled though, mostly worried for the kid... but that's neither here nor there.

The point is, I love her, but there's no possible way this kid is not going to be given a stripper name.  And the terrible side of me thinks that this would be a pretty ambitious career path for the child, so why not.  I'm gonna guess Peaches - boy or girl.

Some thoughts on baby names.


Requisite Disclaimer:  Of course I don't mean you. I love that you're going to name your child Squeegy McGee.  It's breathtaking.

1.  Too Weird.
With my maiden name, I have the most boring/generic/common name on the planet.  I've gone to Doctors where I had to give my social security number to identify myself, because there were people who had both my name and birthdate.  I am in definite danger of naming my child Spandex because I want them to feel distinguished and experience the pain of not finding their name on a keychain.

I just think maybe we should think before we go over the line cray-cray with trying to find a strange name... If you're going to get crazy might as well name it the first thing you see after you give birth.  Like Morphine.  Umbilical.  Latex.  Uterine Polyp.

2. On the opposite end of the spectrum..
Speaking as someone who had a very common name up until I got married (people who attempt my married name end up barking), I must beg of you.. Choose a simple, common name because you love it, not because it's on the top 10 list of names for that year. On the upside no creepy guy from high school can find me on Fertilebook, on the downside when they call my name at Starbucks I have to fight off 50 other people trying to take my drink.

3. Please.  Just please.
 I've said it before I'll say it again.. Please don't name your child something because it spells something backwards. It'd be... certainly not cool or clever? Let's go with neato... for about 5 minutes, and then the kid would have to go the rest of their lives with the name Lufituaeb or Ssadab.

4.  Would you have been friends.
Of course you shouldn't judge someone based on their name.  Of course not.  But let's be honest - sometimes you hear a person's name and somehow you know, in the core of your being, that there's no possible way they weren't a bitch in high school.  Just ask yourself a few questions.  Like, does this name make it sound like someone you would've been friends with?  Is there any possible way that they wouldn't have a large collection of precious moment figurines and a secret alcohol problem? Are you pretty sure with a name like that that they've beaten up a kid with down syndrome in the past hour?  Is there any way that they wouldn't be into some weird dress-like-a-baby porn as an adult?  Would they spend their afternoons in high school cutting themselves slowly to your old Radiohead CDs?  Also, can you hear a drunk dayshift DJ demanding that everyone get ready for this person to enter the stage?  These are important questions.

5.  Vowels are neither your best friend or your enemy.
I'm totally for unique spellings but let's not get crazy unless it has some familial meaning to you.  I've had a few baby name conversations like this:

Them:  We're going to name it Grayson.
Me:  Oh that's cute!
Them:  Only we're going to spell it either Gryyyyycscscsynnn or Qgraaasinnn.  On that last one the Q is silent.
Me:  ::blink blink:: Oh that's... Beautiful.  That's Lufituaeb, even.  It's so pretty in fact that I don't think anyone would ever dare to even screw up their paper work.  Never ever.


Just some thoughts.  Did I miss any?

Thursday, March 28, 2013


Greetings blogosphere!

Yes I have been weirdly absent.  There is not going to be any giving up on this blog, so if you're worried I'm going to be one of those ones that fizzles before it dies, it's not gonna happen.  Stick with me I'm coming back slowly but surely, I am I am.

The simplest way to explain it is that I've just been focusing on getting my body and head right.. To be around pregnancy, sure, but mostly to stop totally numbing myself out to infertility altogether.  I would like to not be totally numb and ignore it, and I would also not like to feel every last little thing about it all the time so that it's consuming my whole world, if that makes sense.  And as of late it feels like it's one of those things with no middle ground which for me at least does not make good writing - but I'm approaching middle ground, finally. Methinks.  Hopefully writing it out doesn't jinx it.

But I miss you.  I'm gonna start putting in an effort again because it's weird to not have my free internet therapy. And it's weird because mostly I miss you for all the not fertility related things... It's nice to have people to talk nonsense with and know confidently in the back of my head that no, seriously, if I have a bad day... she gets it.

What have you missed?

1. I have decided to enhance my grocery shopping lists when Bub goes to the store so he doesn't inexplicably come home with none of the items I have asked for, but all the hot sauce in the greater valley.

2.  I've felt weirdly tired and kind of out of it for a few weeks, and then frustrated because going to the gym 3-6 times a week has resulted in exactly the same amount of weight loss that I accomplished when my exercise consisted of running for the remote from couch to coffee table to turn off the sad-animal commercials.  A quick jaunt to the ER on Tuesday from some pain - turns out I have a kidney infection!

3.  Bub went to south by southwest for a few days, where in addition to having music they have some sort of nerd summit that he went to for work.  I feel like I have heard the phrase south by southwest before in passing, but didn't really know what it was and am delighted to report back that it is not, as originally suspected, the name of some cowboy themed whore house (I may or may not have inspected him for glitter upon his return).

4.  I am positively delighted by how many people on my newsfeed have changed their profile pictures to this little gem in the last couple of days:

In case you are living under a rock, or are far cooler and with more self control than I and therefor NOT dancing with the devil known as Fertilebook, people (particularly straight ones) have been changing it to this sassy little equal sign, or one of it's even sassier variants like this -

or this -

in response to the US Supreme Court hearing going on right now about whether to turn over Prop 8 here in California, or possibly whether or not denying gays the right to marry is unconstitutional in the whole country

Ya'll know, unless you're new to me in which case we should get it out of the way now mayhaps, this is a particularly important issue to me. I suppose everyone has at least one issue that they're particularly passionate about, this is mine (and a lot of other peoples... Even ones who don't give a shit about politics, usually).

I freely admit that I do not have the patience to argue about this one, anymore.  It's ludicrous.

Louis C.K. does this great bit about how it had to suck being Abraham Lincoln because when he was arguing with people who were for slavery, he had to approach it like he could totally see why they felt that way. You know, "oh yeah, it's totally awesome that you have people working in the fields for no money or fair treatment, don't get me wrong, but, you know, there's this other side to it...."

I admittedly could not be that person about this.

All my other liberal mindedness I will happily discuss with you, disagree with you, and try to get it from other perspectives.

Not this one.

To me it's not 'liberal' or 'conservative', it's right and it's wrong (as evidenced by the many, many, many conservatives on my newsfeed who strongly disagree with me about everything else and still have this badboy as their profile picture).  It's discrimination, fear and hate vs. acknowledging other people don't have to be like you, love and acceptance.

If you are against spouses of the same sex, then don't get yourself one.  (Although lawdy lawdy could I use a wife).  Much like 50+ years ago if the idea of marrying someone outside of your race icked you out, excellent, you don't have to.

Also, to be clear, I would also like to state for the record that this is not a downward spiral to people marrying chickens.  No I'm not an atheist, I don't agree with everything that he says (though I do enjoy him) and I openly admit that he's kind of an asshole, but my feelings on this particular argument can be summed up with this lovely quote:

Bubs and my favorite argument is, of course, that marriage is for procreation.  So by that logic our marriage is null and void, as is all those cool cats who choose to not have children, or those that get married post-menopause.  (By this argument do my grandparents have to divorce?  After menopause are you just supposed to say 'see ya' and move to your very own cat-and-porcelain-figurine filled apartment?  This is unclear).

I also believe that this is mostly - mostly! - because gay sex 'icks' a lot of people out.  (Again... then don't have it.  Although I think maybe you're just not watching the right porn).
  1. If we get to vote on who gets to be married based on who having sex disgusts us, there are going to be a whole mess of straight people I'm voting off of sex island.
  2. I'm not particularly into S&M but I don't lurk in front of courthouses with a sign that says 'G-D HATES GAGS'.
Also, I don't understand the need to get up in everybody's crotch anyone.  Aside from all human beings being safe please, concerning yourself with how other people are doing it I'm gonna assume that you're not doing it right.  I have orgasms on a regular basis and I'm pleased as punch that other people are having them.

And as I said on Facebook this morning, I do not understand how hard that last bit is to get.  I have trained my corgi to not go sniffing around other people's crotches.  My corgi.

I realize it's most unfortunately a one-step-at-a-time thing, but I have to say as an adoptee.... Had I gotten stuck in the system, there's not one fucking part of me - not one little nucleus of a cell - that would've thought 'sure I'm in foster care and I feel unloved and unwanted, but thank G-d I'm not in the home of a loving lesbian or gay couple'.

And of course, the mother of all arguments, this will take something away from your marriage.


Here's my bottom line.  I am happily married.  Infertility is a bitch don't get me wrong, but I am deliriously, happily married.  I am so lucky.  I am lucky to have found Bub, as there are people far better than me who have not found their Bub yet.  I am so lucky, and there's not one part of me that wants anyone who gets that lucky to be denied the right to say 'husband' or 'wife', because it's awesome.. and it's hard enough finding them in the first place.

But I was delighted to see all of those equal signs go up (and they're still up).  I'm a total cynic - you know this - but I think it at the very least makes a nice, quiet, simple statement, without having to argue, that you're behind people that you love, or people that you don't even know but who are blessed to be IN love. (Love is a blessing that I have, and I do not own the exclusive rights to... It does not make me the authority on other people's right or lackthereof to have the same thing that I have.).  People who I honestly didn't think prior to a couple of days ago would have even been for marriage equality.  It makes my grinchy heart swell.

And if they decide that denying people the right to marry is against the law ("no!  We were wrong when we discriminated before, but this time...") then please blame straight people, they're the ones that keep having the gay ones.

Monday, March 4, 2013

March Forth

Greetings, cyber vixens.

I have had a weird week.

As you know, I have been dragging my fat ass to the gym with the darling best friend and gay husband, Mr. T.  We have been engaging in dance classes as with music blaring I am much more easily distracted and crowds are far less likely to hear me shouting about sweat not being worth it without at least the potential of an orgasm.

On Thursday we had a sub teacher at one such dance class, a delightful little pixie we'll call Rick.  He bounced around the room to excellent music and yelled at us the perfect bitchy amount.

Needless to say we immediately decided we were going to adopt him, I would carry him around in a papoose and our family would pose for NoH8 ads.  We befriended him after class with our step dancing and general awesomeness.  Mr. T dragged me into a WalMart (where I saw a man and his very large dog in matching top hats) to get matching florescent workout ensembles (we're ironing letters on to t-shirts that say F_G and H_G).  Then Rick invited us to meet him at a super snazzy workout class that evening in Beverly Hills.

With Richard Simmons.

As my 80s time machine is still in it's most preliminary of phases, I was not anticipating my day ending in exhaustion and a lovely conversation with one Mr. Richard Simmons, however, it did.

On the way there, as we were belting out our version of Man in the Mirror in my car to which we know exactly four words, we imagined that Mr. RS would be as he seems on TV... Emotional, sensitive.  A nice slow work out where mayhaps he would tearfully ask me for my fatgirl story.

Not so, my friends.

It was fantastical, and amazing, and completely fucking exhausting.

He stands on a soapbox in front of the class.  He yells at you.  He turns down the music to occasionally say fuck.  There is a dance off (during which, never fear, I dirty danced with Mr. Simmons in front of 40 people) he makes men take their shirts off and dance around. Some highlights:

"It may seem more attractive to go home and shove pizza up your ass but that is not what we're doing tonight!"

"If you don't get your shit together I'm shutting all the doors and we're playing Anne Frank!"

In short, (and oh I assure you the shortiest of bedazzled shorts) it was like working out under the tyrannical thumb of the most charming pixiesque glitternazi the world has ever known.

You know you want to visit me just so I can take you with me.

Unrelated:  I have seen maybe 2 commercials in the past week that have pissed me inexplicably off.

Best example, a toothpaste commercial that to paraphrase says 'he could be your soulmate, your husband, father of your children... but first you must get him to say hello to you'.

Maybe this is a roid/PMS/glitter rage talking, but lately there seems to be a plethora of 'bag that man' commercials which me no likey.

Ladies, if you're looking to snag a man and are wondering what product to purchase, look no further.  Do as I did and simply buy a giant butterfly net and lurk in the trees until someone you like walks under them.  I believe Mr. Simmons would agree.

Forgive the sweat and total negligence in regards to my fat girl angles.

So, today is March 4th.

In some parallel universe wherein my IVF did not result in an early miscarriage, today would've been my due date.

I have been mostly numb about this with the exception of about 5 tearful moments yesterday wherein my asshole ipod shuffled onto Kate Bush's "this woman's work".

Because I'm not living in that parallel universe, am I?  I'm not.  Today's the day Bub's working late, my Mom came up and we had a lovely lunch, and I'm throwing some shit in a crockpot and watching a bunch of ridiculous women in cocktail dresses yell at each other on a bachelor special.  That's March 4th, 2013.

Don't take my flippant attitude for lack of being rightly pissed off and/or sad about it, I have been.  Plenty.  I had my moment yesterday and teared up about it, I've had my days of being torn up about it and wondering why.  In the last nine months I have had days where I did not want to get out of bed, where the highest hope I had for myself was becoming a particularly emotion-pinching episode of Hoarders. But there are a lot of realities that I wish were true that just aren't, this one was just uber important and just got a little closer to being so... though not much.

Maybe it's because I've been doing things to my body to hopefully better prep me, maybe it's just because I'm bored with being depressed (finally), maybe it's because I'm continually trying to remind myself even when I don't like it that days that start out feeling like balls can end with me laughing about Mr. T trying to keep his balls in neon shorts.  You never know how the story is going to end, do you?  So I'm choosing to march forth from March fourth.

Hopefully in plenty of florescents and glitter.