It is clear that I am guilty of blog-neglect

I now see that I have neglected to babble more than two sentences at a time to the delightful people who read my brain droppings. Surely, it cannot be that I have done nothing interesting or noteworthy since my discovery of stretchy pants. I suppose in some circles just the wide variety of unbridled gluttony that I have taken part in while growing my spawn would be considered interesting. And, in the absence of alcoholic beverages, it seems eating really is my primary source of entertainment...eating & staring lecherously at other people's martinis. I am also largely amused by mockery of my own new eating habits. If I were a good and faithful blogger, I would have shared my opinions on new restaurants or recipes I have tried. Although, I'm not sure that "entire bag of Reese's Pieces" or "some sort of sandwich that I sucked down my vacuum face before I really identified the contents" qualify as noteworthy epicurean incidents. Let it be known, for my spawn's sake, that I have also included healthful foods like fruit, vegetables, yogurt & salmon. Well, at least it is now clear why I've not had time to write any blog posts. I accidentally ate my laptop.

Stretchy Pants: A Love Affair

I have a new love. No, I'm not talking about my growing spawn, although I'm pretty attached to the little bugger (pun intended--yes, I like cheese in all forms, thank you very much). However, if not for the kiddo, I'd have never discovered the joy that is Stretchy Pants. Seriously, these things are so comfortable. I suppose I should have anticipated this, as nearly every mother I talked to in the early stages of pregnancy (while still happily, and stupidly, ensconced in my normal, static-waisted pants) touted their glory. I had visions of frumpy mom jeans and was thinking of every way possible to extend the utility of my existing pants wardrobe. After numerous recent instances of shooting the makeshift hair-tie-pants-fastening-extender across multiple public bathroom floors only to retrieve and begrudgingly re-affix it to my gaping fly, I have now acquired 4 pairs of pregnant lady stretchy pants. And they totally kick ass. I am thoroughly convinced that I have found cute, fashionable stretchy pants for myself. However, it is distinctly possible that, like with a favorite pair of house-lounging sweatpants, the undeniable comfort level has hampered my ability to give a fuck.

So this is what I get for exaggerating

Hyperbole is one of my personal favorite things. It just makes conversation more fun. On numerous occasions I have made reference to "VW Golf-sized potholes" while complaining about the precarious state of Indy streets. Unfortunately, this is no longer a probable figment of my overactive imagination. It is a reality on my own street. Every day, pretty much every where I go, I must dodge this monstrosity and its rim-bending ways. The worst part is, I think this is the result after attempts to fill it. Is there a fill allotment per pothole?

Yes, I realize I'm missing two hubcaps. If you could see the other side, you'd know I was missing 4. All sacrificed to potholes, occasionally taking a tire or wheel down with them. I refuse to buy new ones until the Broad Ripple potholes are downgraded from treacherous to passable. It's hard to be hopeful in this respect. I've been without hubcaps for 2 years while adhering to this plan.

Freebird!

So, I asked the BF to grab me a lighter at the gas station while he was out. I had assumed that I would be provided with a Nascar lighter, a naked lady lighter, or something else inappropriate. I did not know of the majesty awaiting me.

I am a horrible driver. All those other assholes don't help.

I am a horrible driver.  I freely admits this.  Numerous unfortunate friends and family members can bear witness. My insurance company concurs in a big way.  But I swear, half the time it's some other asshole's fault.  I'm probably only half-assedly paying attention, so if you cut in front of me I will probably hit you.  If you are behind me in a parking lot, I will almost certainly hit you.

I can't speed anymore, although this was never really my problem.  I drive like a granny now.  If I were to get a speeding ticket, I believe Geico would be legally obligated to come to my house, cut my driver's license in half and sacrificially burn my VW.  Unfortunately, no one driving around me gives a shit about that, and it seems they intend to run me over for dawdling.  Give a girl w/ $300 a month car insurance a break people!

Neon Green: Not a Good Way to Win Friends

My apologies to all who have viewed my blog and now are blinded by the hideous neon green background that seared my words into your brain (there are probably more harmful ways to get holes in your brain; how do you think I wound up this way?).  I swear that looked mellow on my laptop.

A vast repository of useless knowledge

Nearly 10 years ago, a friend of mine would frequent the low-key bar in the restaurant where I worked, drinking Belvedere martinis and working on the daily crossword.  I was always around to supply arcane knowledge, from the recesses of my brain, to help fill in the boxes.  One day he told me, "You know, you're really a vast repository of useless knowledge."  I laughed hysterically.  Suddenly, today, it occurred to me that this was a fabulous title for a blog.