Tales from La La Land

I got my bill for $107 from Hostmonster (the monster that hosts my blog) in December. For a few days I considered shutting it all down, closing up the blog and starting a new hobby. Said hobby being taking a nap.

That’s what being in the first trimester of pregnancy while raising a toddler and working full time will do to you. It will take you into this foggy place where you sleepwalk through the days counting the minutes until the second trimester.

Anyway, I paid the bill knowing that I could never abandon the blog, and that eventually I’d get back to it. After all, there are stories to share, and what is my life without making fun of my husband? And now that Harper is totally a toddler and not a baby, I can start making fun of her too. I mean, she got her first hair cut, and that warrants a blog post in and of itself (mommy is sorry. she has a problem with home hair cuts).

We called her Lloyd for a few weeks, but luckily it grew out OK before she started her new daycare. There is enough anxiety dropping your child off at daycare without being the parent of the kid with fucked up bangs and blue nails. By the way, I don’t choose her nail color. Anyone who has kids knows that they know exactly how to tell you what they want. And for some reason every time she digs through the basket of colors, she always picks out the same blue color. I’ve been trying to tell her that blue nail polish is so 2012, but she don’t care.

She’s learning and saying lots of words, which is exciting and petrifying all at once. My days of fuck are numbered, and I realized this the other day when Laef told me something exciting and I said, “NICE!” and Harper immediately followed with “Nith!”

I was super excited, and then super sad. She can not be the kid with jacked bangs, blue nail polish AND the one that says “fuck yeah!” when she gets her string cheese and goldfish for snack.

So, I’m working on my language. She can’t read yet, so the blog doesn’t count. Fuck yeah!

Now that I’m in week 14 (Sidenote: I am not nearly as diligent with counting the weeks of this pregnancy. I have the correct doctor appointments scheduled at the correct milestone weeks, so I’ll know as I go. I know a few things: I’m due July 5th. If my baby is born on the same day as that Kardashian OR has the same name, I’ll cry. If my baby is born on the same day as Princess Kate, OR has the same name, I can live with that.) I’m feeling much, much better. My marriage somehow survived even though my bitch level was like even higher than usual (“Just another Tuesday” – Laef) and I cried all the time. I knew shit was haywire when I was sobbing while watching an old episode of My So Called Life.

That was the point that I put on my running clothes and made myself get outside and get moving. Running and writing on the blog have always been my outlets.

Here’s to bringing them both back in 2013. And bringing in another family member. And to this little nugget being the cutest, most well-behaved girl at school.

I’ve written about Valentine’s Day before. We are not big Valentine’s Day people. I don’t remember the last time we exchanged gifts. I tend to think of it as sort of a sham the same way I think of Baby Registries and Wedding planning. I don’t feel any less loved if I don’t get roses on February 14.

Also, I might have gotten a ticket for “running a red light” in Santa Monica. I disagree whole heartedly with this ticket as there would not have been ample time for me to stop at the yellow without slamming on my breaks. Unfortunately, whole heartedly doesn’t mean shit – not even during Valentine’s month – in the LA court system and I had to pay … $480 FUCKING DOLLARS.

I won’t go into the pain that writing this check caused me. The stroller I registered for is less than this. The camera I want so that I can start documenting our lives without a cell phone camera is about the same price. I could have decorated the entire nursery for this much. It stabbed me in the heart like you wouldn’t believe.

But, as Laef said, “It’s over. It’s done. And it means we are definitely not doing Valentine’s this month.”

However, yesterday I was killing time at the bookstore on campus and I stumbled upon the “Valentine’s Day” table. There are books about hot sex and romantic dates. There are pink and red stuffed animals. Chocolates.

And coupon books.

Tons of coupon books.

You know the sort of thing that people used to make for free on their home computer with little coupons that said, “A blow job whenever you want”?

Now the industry has taken that phenomenon and stolen it for itself. To quote Matt Damon, I dropped $5.99 on a book of coupons that I could have gotten for 25 cents in toner ink at home.

I flipped through the coupon book and gave 200 side eyes at some of the shit written: “Kiss your partner so passionately that you both drop to your knees.”

Dude. If Laef and I even attempted that, we would bust up laughing immediately.

“Have your partner cook dinner for you.”

Um, this one is not that bad, actually.

“Spend an entire evening in the dark. Take a bath, eat dinner and watch a movie. All by candle light.”

No fucking way. Mostly because Laef is 8′ 2″ tall and we have tried to take a bath together once, and aside from the fact that he barely fits in the tub, we end up just staring at each other freezing cold because the water is below our entire bodies.

“Re-inact your first date.”

Doble. However, our first date was in Hawaii. But, I figure we could go to Manhattan Beach, close our eyes and pretend it is Hawaii. I will make Laef unhook my bra with one hand. No, seriously. He did that. And thought he was really awesome. I am amazed that we are married after that incident.

Anyway, there were a handful of coupons in the book, and it got me thinking.

Laef and I have exactly 4 months left of just him and I. Four months of the life we’ve known for 6 years. Four months of being able to do whatever we want, when we want, with no interruptions (this does not include making out until we fall to our knees). When Laef has a day off from work we struggle to come up with something to do together. We usually end up sitting around the house watching movies and taking naps.

I bought the coupon book and told Laef that we were going to pick out some of the ideas that were reasonable (a picnic, weekend getaway, him cooking me dinner) and do them. And then I am going to blog about them.

Everything was fine until I mentioned him cooking dinner and me filming it. I thought it would be funny. He was worried about his hair.

Fine. No filming.

He nodded yes, but I think he has some trepidations about us becoming “Valentine’s” people.

Will keep you posted on how we do. And, I promise: NO MAKE OUT OR BLOW JOB STORIES.

Apparently it is not common for ultrasound technicians to refer to girl parts as “labia”. I have gotten a lot of questions about my last blog, the most common being – did she REALLY say that?

First of all: This blog is straight non-fiction.

Second of all: Even IF I made shit up to make our lives seem more cool and interesting, there is no way in a million, billion, trillion years that the word labia would have ever come to my mind in regards to how I found out I was having a girl. I thought there was some unwritten universal rule that girl and boy parts are referred to as “pee pee” for at least 3 years.

Third: She was a doctor, so she was probably being all professional and whatnot. It was Laef and I who couldn’t handle hearing about our daughter’s labia and made it like a 6th grade science class all giggly and white-faced. (Seriously, you should have seen the look on Laef’s face when she said it).

Obviously, we’ve never been through this before so I had no idea that most doctors don’t show you the labia. (I am really just enjoying typing labia at this point because I am immature and it is STILL making me giggle). But, after talking to my sisters, my friend Allie, my friend Amy and hearing from other moms, maybe the labia-bomb was meant specifially for us so that I would have something to blog about! Yay!

When people (my sister) email or text me and say, “You haven’t written a blog in two weeks! I am sooo bored. Write something. What is going on?” I feel bad for the blog neglect, but because this is a blog about our lives, there are weeks that go by where I have nothing to write.

A typical day is:

7 a.m. Wake up
Me: “Do you need a lunch?”
Laef: “Yes.”
Me: “Fuck.”

8:12 Rush out the door.

8:20 Yell at the same bitch in the BMW with weird bumper stickers who I somehow get behind every fucking day on Wilshire.

8:35 Arrive at work 5 minutes late.

11 a.m. Eat my morning snack (the same snack every single day)

12:30 p.m. Gym at lunch

4 p.m. Afternoon snack (the same snack every single day)

5:30 Leave work and cuss the whole way home on Sunset

6 p.m. Arrive home. Feed Sanch. Kill time until my stories come on.

7:20 p.m. Call Laef.

Me: “Hi.”
Laef: “Hi. Is everything OK?”
Me: “Yes. When are you coming home? I’m bored.”
Laef: “Same time I always come home.”

7:45 p.m. Laef arrives home. He plays Sporacle or reads. I read/watch crap TV/nap.

8:30 p.m.
Me: “I’m tired.”
Laef: “Seriously. It’s 8:30″
Me: “K. I will push it til 9.”

9 p.m.: Go to bed.

I’m not saying it’s lame (OK, it’s kind of lame). I like my routine and I like structure. But it doesn’t really bode well for good blog stories.

And then one day Laef puts oranges under the Christmas tree.

Or our doctor says labia.

And a blog post is born.

If not for Laef, this blog wouldn’t exist. And I know when he’s really proud of something funny he has said or done because he will follow it with: “Blog that out.”

The blog is suffering. I guess I can attribute it to writers block. There’s also a small part of me that rebelled after finishing the marathon. For months, I had to be diligent about running. The training became another thing in a never-ending to-do list.

Blogging is not necessarily a “to-do”. Obviously, if I don’t want to write, no one makes me. But, I do feel a little guilty when I leave it for weeks on end. Like I’m letting the domain go to waste. I mean, what is the point of owning the domain or having a blog if you never write on it?

This past weekend, Laef and I drove to the Bay Area to visit my family. If nothing else, I wanted to put something up for my sister and Art, who claim to check everyday.

So, here’s a brief history of what’s been going on post-marathon.

The weekend after the race, I went to San Diego for a girls night with Erin, Debbie and Kristen. It was exactly what I needed to get me out of my funk. I hadn’t been able to run the whole week, and I definitely felt “off”. Maybe it’s because my feet looked like they went through the woodchipper Fargo style. Seriously, my feet were a hot mess, and my girl Erin either didn’t want to be seen with me in flip flops, or she’s just a sweet girl (all signs point to all of the above) so she treated me to a pedicure in San Diego before the start of girls night.

It is amazing how far a little pampering can go. I didn’t even know my toes could look that cute. I ventured way out of my comfort zone (I’m usually a black nail polish kind of girl) and got bright pink toes with little white flowers. Again. WHO am I? It was so fun to sit with a friend, read trashy magazines and have my feet rubbed.

Debbie sent us a message the morning of girls night and warned “Make sure you carb load for lunch. You’re going to need a solid base for tonight.”

Erin and I decided that wine and sushi were a perfectly acceptable base.

Girls night was, um, goofy. Pictures have been deleted to protect everyone. You know, in the event they decide to run for public office.  Let’s just say that there were multiple costume changes, wigs, sunglasses, bright red lipstick, and a lot of vodka. We capped the evening by watching Betty White on SNL. I may or may not have passed out on the couch in full makeup and a sparkly blue tank top I stole out of Kristen’s closet. (I wanted my girls night clothes to be as cute as Debbie’s, and felt very un-girly in my UCLA sweatshirt).

This past weekend, Laef and I headed North to visit family. What it boiled down to was the usual – my sister and Neil did a lot of cooking (I made the mimosas so I did contribute something); my sister stole from her younger baby brother; I dominated everyone at Wii table tennis (wakeboarding is a totally different story); Laef, Neil and Mike actually combined to drink 5 beers; I somehow convinced Neil to allow the TV to be on collegiate softball; I gave Sophie candy at 10 a.m. which is apparently a big no-no for kids; and I left my cell phone sitting on a park bench only to realize it once we made it all the way back home. (Surprisingly, it was still sitting there when I went back. Damn. Kind of wanted an excuse for an iPhone).

Hanging out with the family is complete and total chaos BLISS. I actually love the madness and wouldn’t have it any other way. On Sunday before Laef and I headed back home, I took Sophie to a yogurt shop that lets you do everything by yourself. You serve your yogurt and then you get to put whatever toppings on that you see fit. In the end, you are charged by weight. Of course, being  the aunty (and being that I got to leave before her sugar high hit), I let Sophie get whatever toppings she wanted. I can tell you that she opted for: Gummy worms, chocolate sprinkles, Reeses Pieces, Reeses peanut butter cups, chocolate syrup and M&Ms. All on top of rasberry yogurt. Who would of thought chocolate syrup and gummy worms go together?

We are back home now, and because I don’t have running to keep me occupied, I am focusing my time on moving. Sadly, we will be vacating our little beach bungalow in July. It is definitely bittersweet as we have so many great memories from living in Manhattan Beach. However, we have outgrown the place and are tired of commuting to work everyday. So, on the bright side, we will be living closer to UCLA to avoid the madness of the 405 freeway, and we will finally have a guest bedroom!

Because of my excitement re: more space, I may or may not have already starting packing. This type of behavior makes Laef insane. I’m just trying to avoid one of those 13-hour moving days where you do everything in one day – pack, load the car, unpack. Those days SUCK. I’m pretty sure I will see the Longeteig’s on my doorstep in July since I think I’ve helped them move once. Or 9 times.

Blog-neglect happens to everyone. And this is totally not going to be a post about how I’ve been neglecting the blog.

However, I figured I should put something up to bury that stupid Office Max Blog. You know, the one where I thought I was soooo creative with the headline? Sometimes I think I’m super funny and/or witty only to find out years (and, sometimes days) later that I was, in actuality, a giant tool.

So, anyway, since I last wrote that post, not much has happened. I thought about writing a post chronicling the shower dialogue between Laef and I, but I figured it’d make people super gaggy. But, we can not be the only ones who draw hearts with random hair on the shower wall.

Or can we?

Laef took it to a new level last week,  stringing together many of his fallin’ brethren to draw an entire face with a giant smile (not a good sign for the top of Laef’s head.) Then this morning I got in the shower and noticed that Laef had gone even further. He drew a penis. With balls. And pubes.

All I can tell you is this: When it’s 6:30 a.m., and you are fucking pissed off at your alarm clock and the cat who meows from 6 a.m.-6:30 a.m., NOTHING will make your morning more than seeing a giant penis drawn with hair on the shower wall. I cracked up. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at 6:30 a.m. on a work day.

The pressure is now on me to draw something for Laef’s enjoyment.

I guess I don’t care if you get gaggy or not. At least I didn’t include pictures of the hearts or the “Hi!” or the .

Then I thought writing a post about marathon training, and how I am on the home stretch in a sense. However, I don’t want to jinx it. I have one long run left – 19 miles this weekend – and can then begin to taper a bit. Next weekend, my long run will be 8 miles, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but: 8 miles at this stage is a cakewalk*.  The marathon is 2 weeks from Sunday. UNREAL. Can’t wait. There’s not much more to blog about the training – it’s kind of shitty, and if not for the help of some great friends (Angie, Erin), it would have been a lot worse. It’s draining physically and mentally, but I know the payoff is going to be WELL worth it. So, I am very excited for race day.

Other than that, there’s not much to tell. Laef is completely dialed into the Cardinals baseball season, so I just sit back and watch him swear at the TV or look doey-eyed at Albert Pujols every time is up to bat. I am completely dialed into the Real Housewives of New York City so Laef sits back and yells obscenities to me while pretending not to watch (he actually asked me yesterday if Jill and Bettheny were friends yet).

TGIF!

*Please don’t let me eat shit or get hurt on this run because I called it easy. Please.

Just a reminder that on Sunday I will be live blogging at The Cooler during the E! Red Carpet extravaganza. The telecast begins at 6 p.m. ET/3 p.m. PT, so I will go live just before 3 p.m. PST. I’m no expert in movies – or even fashion – but I like to see what people are wearing, what they say, who they’re with, etc. Last year there were a lot of people (OK, by a lot I mean Lamb) who came over to join that chat, and that made it more fun. I just re-read the comments and am cracking up. I hope you guys will stop by and share your thoughts again.

In completely unrelated news (unless we see some of the starlets holding one on the red carpet), why do we need a 31-oz option at Starbucks?

When I read about this, I had to roll my eyes a little. Starbucks is now trying to keep up with the likes of McDonalds and Dunkin’ Donuts. I guess the good news is that they’ll only be offering iced coffee and tea in this size, but it’s only a matter of time before Britney rolls in, demanding that they put her Frap in the 31-oz cup, is photographed with it, and then of course, everyone else will want what she has.

My co-worker is from France. It’s so interesting to see how he approaches food. It’s a completely different mentality from how we do it in the US. Frenchie eats very, very slowly. And he doesn’t eat huge portions. He eats small portions, seemingly savoring every bite. He would never need a 31-oz drink because it would probably take him 2 years to finish it.

So, anyway, it seems as though you can get a super size of just about anything these days. And they wouldn’t offer it if there wasn’t a demand, so I’m probably alone in thinking it’s insane.

See you Sunday!

As in 20-second time out.

It’s time for me to admit that the blog is probably the furthest thing from my mind.

Today is May 4. Which means June 4 is ONE month away. Which means I have essentially been engaged for ONE year. What. The. Fuck. This was the fastest year of my life.

We are 10 weeks from W day. Things are fine and coming together and everything should be OK, but my brain is at full capacity. Between work, figuring out how the fuck to make Chinese lanterns work and arguing over our first dance song, I tend to forget to write such things in a blog.

Also, I recently had a scare with a scary person that made me wish I didn’t put forth so much info on the blog.

A couple of weeks ago, I was trying to call a coworker on her cell. I mis-dialed her number by one digit. When I heard the random answering machine, I hung up and called her on the correct number.

Well, whoever I accidentally called, decided to call me and scream, “WHO IS THIS? I will find you and fucking kill you.” Click.

Um.

What. The. Fuck.

I then got a text that said, “I find you…”

So, yeah, I don’t really like spooky things and was fucking panicked that some maverick was in his basement splicing phone wires and tracking me down. Or reading my blog knowing every last detail of my life.

Anywasted, I know the blog sucks and I am horrible mother, but I’m sort of preoccupied. The bachelorette party is two weeks away and I am pretty sure there might be some good stories.

But, I will change all names and blur all faces in photos!!!

Check out all of the red carpet dish from my live-blog over at The Cooler on Sunday.

It was a lot of fun and a big thanks to everyone who joined in. The comments were hilarious and it was fun to have all the interaction.

Let’s be honest. One of my all-time favorite movies is Secretary so I don’t hold much street cred in the movie department.

But, I am overly excited that I will be live blogging over at The Cooler this Sunday. While I may not be half (OK, 1/8) the movie buff that my good friend Jason Bellamy is, I have read enough Perez Hilton, TMZ and US Weekly to qualify for writing about the good stuff – the red carpet pre-show.

Beginning at 6 p.m./3 p.m. PST I’ll be drunk live blogging about the sites (possible Aniston-Pitt encounter) and sounds (Mickey Rourke, anyone?) of E! TV’s red carpet deliciousness. I hope you all will pop over so we can dish and gossip and gaggle at all of the beautiful people.

There are sure to be some awkward moments, questionable fashion choices and long pauses after questions that are deemed too personal. So, I am really looking forward to it, and also writing down my thoughts.

Last night, I was getting very excited and a million thoughts were racing through my mind. I jotted down a bunch of notes about different actors/actresses, movie experiences and things I hope to touch on.

Then I got this super great idea and I ran it by Laef.

Me: “What if I got all dressed up, put on tons of makeup, did my hair and wore that black booby dress. Then, we could dress you up like a douchey actor and we could act out a red carpet interview!!!”
Laef: BLANK AS FUCK STARE
Me: “I have been wanting to vlog for like two months. This is the perfect vlog opportunity.”
Laef: “What is a vlog?”
Me: “A video blog!!!”
Laef: “What’s your other idea?”

Sure, there are some logistical problems. If both Laef and I are IN the vlog, who will record it? I am working with The Sanch to see if he will learn the on/off button if given wet food.

Also, this requires me to shower and put on makeup on a Sunday. That hasn’t happened in …. ever.

Check back Sunday to see if we pulled it off!

TGIF

This morning I woke up horrified with myself.

Me: “Hey, um. I had a dream that Brittany kept showing you her boobies.”
Laef: “What did they look like?”
Me: “I don’t know. I was mad, left in the car, but realized I was in Ohio and didn’t know how to get anywhere.”
Laef: “I had a dream about Bill Clinton. He knew my name. I was so stoked.”
Me: “Hmmm. Something is not right here.”
Laef: “I would have preferred your dream. We should sleep touching heads tonight and see if we can trade dreams.”

Yeah, because clearly everything is ass backwards around here. I should be dreaming about hot ex-Presidents. NOT Brittany’s boobies.

That’s what the blog world will do to you though. It plays with your mind. These people are in your head all day long, sharing deep personal stories about everything from peeing their pants to boiling diapers to crazy nights with their future husbands.

Anywasted, thank god I dreamt about Brittany and not Lamb. Because Lamb probably would have been sitting ON Laef while showing him her new pregnant boobies.