*not* for widespread people-pleasing

The first comment on the last post is hilarious! "i thought i was a blog about dancing. turns out its a blog about being a fucking idiot." Hahahahahaha, that made me laugh pretty hard. I appreciate Greg and the second anonymous standing up for me, but being called an idiot online doesn't make me sad all righty? In fact, it cracked me up hardcore- and I needed a laugh! : )

Anyways, the diss/joke/confusion about my blog title tells me that I need to explain where the title of my blog came from, although I'm sure I have posted this same shit at least once in 2 years of bullshitting. If I did, oh well, here it is again. The full title of my blog is the title AND the heading together: "Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music." It is a quote from my comedy hero- the late, great, rude, crude, always angry and incredibly hilarious George Carlin! The quote was too long for a title, so I split it up into the actual "title" part as well as the thingy that goes under it (I can't remember if it's called the heading or description or something totally different) using this "..." 3-dot crap. That is why my blog is known as, "Those who dance..." For those of you who already knew that, you didn't hafta read this paragraph. Ha ha.

Greg wanted me to clarify something from the last post: there is a story behind the illustration that I posted. A little kid drew that picture for school and handed it in to her teacher, who thought that the girl was drawing her mother as a stripper or pole-dancer. So she called in the girl's mama and asked her what she did for a living, and the mama said she worked at Home Depot as a saleswoman. They asked the girl what was up with the drawing, and she answered, "It's you at Home Depot, mama, selling a snow shovel to people!" I just thought it would be funny to post, because I have a little girl and I was a stripper... whatever.

If you didn't like it, I don't much care; this blog is for me, *not* for widespread people-pleasing. I may want everyone to be happy, but I tend not to care what anybody thinks about me personally. But of course anyone who has been reading me for a long time already knows that. Till next time...

taking lemons and making lemonade

I went to court on the 17th. Court began at 845am, and I showed up at 9, like usual. Greg was there, of course, and so was my dad as well as my brother and his friend Travis (who I suppose showed up out of morbid curiosity). The judge called my name around 10, and I told him that I was waiting for my attorney. So I waited, and waited, and waited. I managed to keep little Jaz quiet until noon, when he called me up to the stand. Morning court was damnear over, and my attorney still hadn't shown up. The public defender called her cellphone (which I had already tried and got her voicemail) and she apparently had forgotten that we had court that day. She was at the courthouse, so she offered to run right over in her jeans. I asked the judge if instead, we could reschedule my plea until after the holidays so that I could bring the baby to see my family for Christmas, then waited for him to say NO. He completely surprised me by saying, "well, you've been pretty patient... you've kept the baby quiet too, let's go ahead and reschedule for January [blah]. Go ahead and call [my lawyer's name] and let her know." Not bad, right?

Other than that, nothing much is going on. Jasmyne is the best baby in the world and she is growing a lot, so I just had to get rid of her clothes that didn't fit- most of them! I need 3-6mo sizes now, even though she is not quite 11 weeks old. Anyone who wants to help me out so my baby can have a good Christmas, my paypal virtual-panhandling link is still in the same place.

Still clean, still doing good, still with Greggie, still happy. The thing with me and Greg is this: we disagree about EVERYTHING. Give us a topic- political, economic, social, religious/spiritual, environmental, parenting, fashion, music, movies, families, the temperature outside today, what to watch on TV, how to spend free time, anything at all- and we will argue about it. So we are constantly bickering, sometimes to the point of yelling. But when either me or Greg has a real problem, we declare a temporary truce from whatever pointless "discussion" we are currently involved in and take care of the problem together. That is how you know you're with the right person- if they are there for you when you really need them. Having "soooo much in common" is overrated. Greg and I have NOTHING in common except Jasmyne (and you should hear us argue about her, though not in front of her) and we love each other a lot!

Starting on Jan 24, I get to say that, as a white girl, "the man is keepin' me down." I am gonna use this at every opportunity I get. THAT, by the way, is taking lemons and making lemonade.

By the way, the picture at the top is actually a mom working at Home Depot, selling a snow shovel. But I like it anyway- it fits my blog perfectly, doesn't it?

fuck political correctness!!!!

Oh I just gotta post this!!!! I cannot take credit for it though... shall post where it came from at the bottom okay??? Shelley does NOT plagarize!!

White Guilt is Dead
Free at last, free at last!

By Tom Adkins
Editor's note: This originally appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer.

Look at my fellow conservatives! There they go, glumly shuffling along, depressed by the election aftermath. Not me. I'm virtually euphoric.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not thrilled with America's flirtation with neo-socialism. But there's a massive silver lining in those magical clouds that lofted Barack Obama to the Presidency. For today, without a shred of intellectually legitimate opposition, I can loudly proclaim to America: The Era of White Guilt is over.
This seemingly impossible event occurred because the vast majority of white Americans didn't give a fluff about skin color, and enthusiastically pulled the voting lever for a black man. Not just any black man. A very liberal black man who spent his early career race-hustling banks, praying in a racist church for 20 years, and actively worked with America-hating domestic terrorists. Wow! Some resume! Yet they made Barack Obama their leader. Therefore, as of November 4th, 2008, white guilt is dead.
For over a century, the millstone of white guilt hung around our necks, retribution for slave-owning predecessors. In the 60s, American liberals began yanking that millstone while sticking a fork in the eye of black Americans, exacerbating the racial divide to extort a socialist solution. But if a black man can become President, exactly what significant barrier is left? The election of Barack Obama absolutely destroys the entire validation of liberal white guilt. The dragon is hereby slain.
So today, I'm feeling a little "uppity," if you will. From this day forward, my tolerance level for having my skin color hustled is now exactly ZERO. And it's time to clean house. No more Reverend Wright's "God Damn America," Al Sharpton's Church of Perpetual Victimization, or Jesse Jackson's rainbow racism. Cornell West? You're a fraud. Go home. All those "black studies" programs that taught kids to hate whitey? You must now thank Whitey. And I want that on the final.
Congressional Black Caucus? Irrelevant. Maxine Waters? Shut up. ACORN? Outlawed. Black Panthers? Go home and pet your kitty. Black separatists? Find another nation that offers better dreams. Go ahead. I'm waiting.
Gangsta rappers? Start praising America. Begin with the Pledge of Allegiance. And please, no more ebonics. Speak English, and who knows where you might end up? Oh, yeah, pull up your pants. Your underwear is showing. You look stupid.
Black Fraternities? Seek diversity. Race card? It's now the joker. Miss Black America? Get in line with all the other lovely ladies. Reparations? Paid.
To those Eurosnots who forged entire careers hating America? I'm still waiting for the first black French President.
And let me offer an equal opportunity whupping. I've always despised lazy white people. Now, I can talk smack about lazy black people.You're poor because you quit school, did drugs, had three kids with three different fathers, and refuse to work. So when you plop your Colt 45-swilling, Oprah watchin' butt on the couch and complain "Da Man is keepin' me down," allow me to inform you: Da Man is now black. You have no excuses.
No more quotas. No more handouts. No more stealing my money because someone's great-great-great-great grandparents suffered actual pain and misery at the hands of people I have no relation to, and personally revile.
It's time to toss that massive, obsolete race-hustle machine upon the heap of the other stupid 60s ideas. [[Drag it over there, by wife swapping, next to dope-smoking. Plenty of room right between free love and cop-killing. Careful, don't trip on streaking. There ya go, don't be gentle. Just dumpit. Wash your hands. It's filthy.]]*
In fact, Obama's ascension created a gargantuan irony. How can you sell class envy and American unfairness when you and your black wife went to IvyLeague schools, got high-paying jobs, became millionaires, bought a mansion,and got elected President? How unfair is that??? Now, Like a delicious O'Henry tale, Obama's spread-the-wealth campaign rendered itself moot by it's own victory! America is officially a meritocracy. Obama's election has validated American conservatism!
So, listen carefully...Wham!!!
That's the sound of my foot kicking the door shut on the era of white guilt. The rites have been muttered, the carcass lowered, dirt shoveled, and tombstone erected. White guilt is dead and buried.
However, despite my glee, there's apparently one small, rabid bastion of American racism remaining. Black Americans voted 96% for Barack Obama. Hmmm. In a color-blind world, shouldn't that be 50-50? Tonight, every black person should ask forgiveness for their apparent racism and prejudice towards white people. Maybe it's time to start spreading the guilt around.

Tom Adkins is the former publisher of CommonConservative(http://commonconservative.com/). He can be reached attomadkinscc@yahoo.com.

[*] for the record, Shelley sees NO problem with wife swapping, dope smoking, free love, cop killing, or streaking.

smack *does* make more interesting stories

Last "post" has a comment that I am boring now. It's quite true, I'll admit it. The reason I started this blog two years ago is because so much crazy shit happened, a lot of it completely unbelievable, that I just had to publish it. It would be a true story that read like fiction, and every time some other shit went down I could add to the craziness. Fast forward to now, nothing really exciting happens anymore. Do I miss the excitement? Fuck yeah! Am I sorry my life is boring now? Fuck no! I'm happier now than I have been in a long time. I posted this over at opi.org but I can also say it here: some of the happiest times of my life have been because of drugs, but ALL of the most miserable times of my life have been because of drugs. Of course I had fun sometimes, and I was miserable sometimes. Now I'm not miserable at all. Smack *does* make more interesting stories though... no doubt.

Greg has disappeared. He dropped me off on Thursday after having a little Thanksgiving dinner for just our family (me, him, and Little J) and we weren't even fighting. Friday he didn't call at all, and Saturday he was supposed to come over for the big Thanksgiving dinner and he not only didn't show, he didn't even answer my phone calls. My haters will say, "maybe he's sick of your shit." While that could be true, he isn't the type to get angry and just ignore me. No, when he gets a bug up his ass about something I did, he harps on it overandoverandover and absolutely will NOT stop talking about it! Blowing off plans and then giving me the silent treatment? Very much not like him. To tell the truth, I'm kinda worried about him. I'm driving by his house today, so if she who shall not be named is reading, knows what's going on and doesn't want me coming by, give me a call please! Also if Greggie is reading this... please call me! I am scared for you! : ( : (

a little message...

socialism...

it's kinda small, but if you click on the cartoon you will get a larger image... GREG.

2 years is nothing to sneeze at!

It's November 17 2008, and my long-time readers know what that means- it's my 2-year anniversary of this blog! Hooray for being so interesting for so long! I actually didn't get any readers until around June/July of '07, but hell. No one said getting "famous" would be easy. I like my fame in my small circles, the online ones and the real-life ones. I like hanging out in town and half the city stopping to say what's up while the person hanging with me asks, "does everybody know you?!?" Anyways, my father is taking the baby for a stroll in the cold [can you believe it's 60 degrees here in my hot tropical paradise?] and the time I have online I need to spend doing something else which will make me money. And trust me, I NEED money- I gave up on Medicaid and am now faced with paying for 4 immunizations (plus the doctor visit!) by myself in a few weeks :(

What I really wanted to do was congadulate myself for being on here for so long (and yes, my arm does hurt from patting myself on the back) and of course thank my online social circle for being such loyal readers: my followers on Blogger, the few pals I got over at LJ, many of the folks at opi.org, my friends at SDP, my friends on WTE, and anyone else who knows me from online. Okay, fine, I'll name some names! Melody of course, Tori, Carrion Girl, Kelly, Lilygirl, Cocaine Princess, Libby, Boston Joe, Jamie, Polgara, Trish, Poppylovr, Narkotikon (even though you hate me), hater Jake (where have you been lately, did my success shut your mouth once and for all?), and of course the ever-popular ANONYMOUS!!!!!! And my readers who know me IRL: Lucas, my parents, my wonderful Greggie, Greg's "friend" who has asked not to be named but has been a loyal reader for a while now, Elliott aka 'who runs da souf?', Diamond aka 'ice queen', and Johnny from down the street- I know that's not your name, but I told you why I call you that, didn't I? I LOVE ALL OF YOU, EVEN MY HATERS AND SHIT-TALKERS!! KEEP READING AND COMMENTING, AND MAYBE I'LL HAVE 3 YEARS IN!!

If I missed anyone, GET OVER IT!!!! :) :)

RIP capitalism......

Jesus Harold Christ on a fucking rubber crutch... it's Obama for the win.

Sigh.

Where's Lee Harvey Oswald when you need him, anyway?

pictures of my beloved...

The Day of Reckoning

Here are my halloween pictures: one of me and one of Jazzy. Above are more pictures of her because it's my blog and I want everyone to gaze upon the wondrous beauty of my little bear cub baby... over and over and over again. :) The weekend before the 31st, my cousin and I went to Fright Nights, one of those haunted house things at the fairgrounds. Here is a free plug, which I know is useless now that Halloween has passed and Fright Nights is over. But here ya go anyways: http://www.southfloridafair.com/frightnights08/ It was one of my few nights out without the baby (by "night" I mean "a couple of hours" of course, hah) and I had a blast. I'll admit, I did drink, but not much- although I visited the beer tent, I left the liquor drinks alone. Yes, there was a cocktail tent : )

The haunted houses were pretty damn awesome. We would say, "someone is gonna jump out from behind that wall right there, be prepared" and when someone did jump out from there, we'd still scream and jump in fear even though we knew beforehand. I guess it was the atmosphere... plus the beer, the strobe lights, and the noise. Near the end of one of the places, a costumed girl stops us and says "are you claustrophobic? No? Well then, go ahead..." Looking back, we should have said HELL YES! There were 2 huge black tarps being blown in from either side, pressing hard against each other, and folks had to squeeeeze through in the pressure-filled pitch blackness. I didn't like that too much (especially since everyone's sweaty body had rubbed all over that black thing that rubbed across my face) but I gotta admit it was a good ending to a scary haunted house.

On Halloween night itself I stayed home with Jaz and Greg who was off work and in town for the weekend (hooray!!) and passed out candy. To be honest, I ate over half of the candy I bought to pass out, but fuck I'm the one who put up the cash so why not eat it myself? I can't wait until next year, when Jasmyne will be old enough to go trick or treating- and every year after that of course. : ) Let her eat as much candy as she wants the first night, she'll throw up, and I'll get the rest! [[yes I am kidding, you Shelley-hating motherfuckers]]

Halloween was also my court date, after two continuances. I was supposed to get my ankle bracelet that day or the Monday after, but the house arrest people haven't gotten in touch with my attorney so guess what happened? Another goddamned continuance!!!! I go back to court on Nov 13th. I suppose I should be grateful for the extra time, but if house arrest never starts, then it can never fucking END, now can it? Lame... I just want that crap over with already.

They canceled the baby's Medicaid and I had to pay out of my pocket to take her to the doctor for her well-baby visit. Very very gay. Especially after I sat in the DCF office twice for a total of [at least] 4 hours trying to get that shit straightened out. First they put her birthdate as April something, then they wrote "black" under her race (for those who didn't know, Jazzy's biological father is a blond white guy, and yes I do know who he is), and now they canceled her insurance altogether. It's starting to piss me off- I don't want the coverage for myself anymore, I just need my fucking child to go see the fucking doctor! She has to get all her immunizations next month- they better have her shit straight by then. I'm going back to the DCF office a-fucking-gain tomorrow and this time I'm gonna piss and moan instead of being so polite, since that obviously didn't get me jack shit.

For anyone who was waiting for me to mention it... it is The Day of Reckoning! That is to say, election day is upon us, and by the end of the day the nation will know if we are in deep shit or not- and I will find out if Greg owes me twenty dollars or if I have to go the ATM and make a withdrawal for him. Yes, I bet twenty dollars on my candidate.........

JOHN MCCAIN!!!!!!!!!!!

You know the crazy part, I don't even like him or Palin. But I really really REALLY don't like that fucking Obama clown! He will run us into the ground! There is a Mccain sticker on Jasmyne's stroller, and 2 signs in my yard (neither of which are mine). Go John Mccain!! Go white guy!!

Well, I gotta get off the internet soon, since I am needed to tend to a crazy baby who flat-out refuses to nap. She was throwing up this morning too... do I have a sick baby on my hands? She's spoiled rotten (I never put her down except to sleep and drive, hah) but not sick- I hope! : ( : (

crazy baby

I never get to update anymore because Jaz doesn't let me go online. Seriously, she will be just chillin' or sleeping or someone else will be holding her, no problems at all- until I sit down at the computer. Then she starts howling like a freaking banshee. I've tried holding her in the sling so I can hold her and have my hands free to type, but for some reason she starts crying the minute I sit down in the computer chair. Weird huh? See, I want to make her a playlist for my ipod because in the hospital Greg and I discovered that she likes country music (especially Dolly Parton) but every time I touch the keyboard or the mouse, she goes off. I guess it's cause I'm not paying 100% attention to her, huh? So when I do get online it's always for a short short time so I don't bother coming on the blog. I go on my message boards or I download music on shareaza. Anyone who has emailed me, hah! I haven't checked that either. I guess since my real life got more hectic, my virtual life has taken a beating. Whatever, I'll get over it! :)

Even though she won't let me post, Jaz is a great, easy baby. She mostly only cries when there is a problem (or I'm not paying enough attention to her) such as wet diaper, hunger, bored, etc. She sleeps through the night, usually waking up only once. She hangs out and makes lots of happy noises. When she wakes up, she doesn't scream, instead she makes little "aah aah" noises to get my attention and let me know that she's awake without busting my eardrums. After all, I do sleep a couple inches away from her. :) I have a queen bed, so I put a small 'baby bed' in the middle of the bed and she sleeps there while I sleep on the side of the bed. The 'baby bed' is actually a pillow with cylindrical pillows velcro-ed [is there a word for 'attached with velcro'?] on each side so that I put the baby on the pillow and she can't roll out of it. I like sleeping next to her- it makes me feel safe and it keeps the voices quiet. But the baby bear... she's so good-natured. Except when she's taking a bath- then she freaks the fuck out. She'll get over it.

I'm doing good too, that has a lot to do with the fact that Jasmyne is doing good. I'm still clean amazingly enough. Well to be totally honest, the night before my first court case (last Tuesday) I left Jazzy with my folks for a couple hours and went to the local bar for some beers. I had 3 or 4 Bud Lights and bullshitted with some spanish guys who I met there. Two of them had babies at home also HAH so we talked about that mostly, and also that english is a harder language to learn than spanish (as a second language). I went to the bar because I figured I wouldn't be going anywhere for a while...

House arrest! Did I even write about that on here? My original court date was Tuesday, but it was re-scheduled to Friday, and now it's on Oct 31 so my lawyer can get the proper paperwork to get me "approved" for house arrest. [As we left the courtroom on Friday, I told my lawyer how last Halloween I was in jail and this Halloween I'll be in court.] I am pleading out my old-ass possession charge: 120 days house arrest, with a few exceptions. I can go to the 'done clinic every day, I can go to church on Sundays (weird that the prosecutor agreed to that huh?), I can go grocery shopping once a week, and I can go to all my and the baby's dr appointments. Not that bad, huh?

Time to feed crazy baby... :)

this was on my doorknob

I go outside to smoke a cig and find this lovely message hanging. It was actually an advertisement for water softener, listing the ways that hard water "robs" us... weird.

my birth story, or, oh sweet Jesus it hurt

This won't be long- I only got until the munchkin starts to cry and then I gotta go scoop her up. I call her 'baby bear' or 'bear cub' or sometimes just 'bear' although I'm not sure why. It's just that the first time I looked at her, I thought, "she's a little bear!" I also call her cuddlemonkey, wiggleworm or squirm-worm, barracuda (when she's being rough on my titty while eating), munchkin or little munch, little J, teddy, Jazzy-bear, and little nugget... probably other names too. My dad says she will never learn her own name, hah.

Anyways my birth story- 'twas quite painful. Got induced Thursday night with oxytocin but it wasn't doing shit so they took me off the drip and stuck something called cervadil into my twat. Started having BAD contractions around 2am and was given epidural, since I am a pussy when it comes to physical pain. Once that was working, I passed out and was awakened at about 9am with superbad contractions and an urge to push. My doc was called, then I was told to push which H-U-R-T!!!!!!!!!!! Oh sweet Jesus it hurt. I kept saying "no, I can't do it, I can't fucking do it, just stop and cut me open, cut my stomach open and pull that kid out, I can't fucking push any goddamn more!" Yep, I was whining like a little bitch- screaming too. Dr told me that if I pushed her head a little bit out he could pull her the rest of the way but I couldn't do it. Greg yelled at me to push and I punched him in the stomach. I pushed as hard as I could (screaming at the top of my lungs at the same time) and felt something warm and slippery come out... then something heavy and wet was thrown on my stomach. I look down and see a small, bloody, naked human being wiggling around on my belly and say my first words to my daughter...

..."no fucking way!"

I know, not exactly the right way to welcome a baby into the world, but I was so shocked. Yeah, of course I knew that labor would lead to an infant, no shit, but I wasn't ready for it. I can't really explain what I mean here without sounding stupid like "der, I didn't realize that 9 months of pregnancy would result in a baby, derrr" but whatever. Then I was in so much goddamn pain that I didn't even want to look at her, much less hold her. Greg (who was there the whole time and was AWESOME to me!!!!!!!) was holding her after the nurses had cleaned her up and put a diaper, the way he was looking at her made me very happy- still does, actually. : ) I didn't have any episiotomy or tears or stitches, but it still hurt like a mofo and I was bleeding a LOT and my stomach/abdomen was killing me and my legs both had charley-horses and I was shaking all over... basically I was not a happy camper.

The nurses then gave me my 90mg of methadone, plus some kind of narcotic painkiller (I didn't ask what it was). The combination got me pretty high, I think it's because I had been sharing my dose with the little munch the whole time and now all 90mg were going to me and to me alone, plus the other dope whatever it was. I started to feel better, at least until I got up to go pee which burned like gonorrhea (well I've never had gonorrhea but I do have an imagination). It was about 30 minutes after I was given the dose that I was able to finally hold the baby. I was fucking amazed at her, but I wasn't overwhelmed by love- she was a total stranger, just a really tiny helpless-looking one. I had expected her to be ugly since I was told that all newborns are ugly, but she was actually pretty. I figured that she was just pretty to me since she was my kid, but others have said the same thing so I guess she was a good-looking newborn. Later I saw other kids that were 1 day old or less and they were mostly weird-looking so I felt special.

Okay the kid is crying so I will continue this later... to be continued!

here's some baby pics ya damn whiners!!

I will write the whole story- including the very painful (but apparently normal) birth, the tales of the neonatal intensive care unit, and the incredible fact that Jaz had NO withdrawal symptoms whatsoever (in yo' FACE, haters!)- later. Right now y'all just get pictures, which I assume will satisfy everyone's curiosity for now. The hat she is wearing in the first pic- that is from Melody. The man-hands you see near her face in the first three pics- that is probably the most you will ever see of Greg on this blog. I have not slept for more than a couple hours at a time since Thursday, it is me and Jasmyne's first day home and the baby is asleep so I shall be going to bed now too. Breastfed baby in cloth diapers- it's not as hard as everyone said it would be, aside from no sleep and sticking my hand in the toilet.

Can I say once more, to my fans and even more to my haters: Jasmyne Rose Moreau suffered ABSOLUTELY NO WITHDRAWAL SYMPTOMS from the methadone, and had NO other drugs in her system!!!!!! Also, DCF interviewed me for about 5 minutes and then immediately closed the case against me. I bet my haters are just grindin' their teeth over that shit... ha ha! My baby is healthy and the state trusts me! Hooray for me and Jaz!

It's a girl (2)

Jasmyne Rose, born Sep. 26, 2008 at 11:15 a.m. 7lbs 10oz, 19 inches. APGAR score 9.9 out of a perfect 10, which no baby gets. Mama currently breastfeeding. Praise the Lord!

Michelle's Mama

It's a girl!

full amateur spa treatment

So, less than 24 hours to go...

I am pretty excited and scared, excited because the pregnancy will FINALLY be over and scared because I am such a pussy when it comes to physical pain. All that emotional-pain shit, I might get upset but then I get over it real fast. But I won't even pick up the half-gallon of milk with my right arm because I'm scared it will dislocate and that shit hurts so bbbAAAddd!!! I like the fact that the kid doesn't have any methadone in her system (according to a clean amnio test) and hopefully with have NO withdrawal symptoms. It's like God is giving us a pass because I did everyfuckingthing I could.

I was trying to make myself pretty today since I am facing a 6-day hospital stay for 'observation' which I'm not really looking forward to. It's partly because of the 'done and partly because I am high risk for postpartum depression, I guess that's because I am psychotic in every other regard. I tend not to be depressed though, I go the other way into "severe mania with audial and visual hallucinations" hah! :) Anyways, I got the "full amateur spa treatment" which means I gave myself a pedicure (I can't barely reach my feet), Greggie cut/filed/painted my nails (and let me tell you, he is much better at manly things than girly things like nail-painting, hahaha), and my mom cut my hair (she usually cuts my hair and dyes it too). I just appreciate that they tried, plus I like the kinda choppiness of my hair and my nails and toes look good to me. If I cared *that* much I'd go get my shit done professionally, but it's just not that big of a deal. I don't wear makeup either.

I wanted to say thanks, mostly to Greg and my family [side note: to the person who asked, Greg and my parents get along VERY WELL, shit when he comes over to the house he talks to them almost as much as he talks to me, I gotta get him alone to get his attention, haha; also while I am in the hospital he has blanket permission to come to my parent's house to eat or shower or whatever so he doesn't hafta go all the way home; my parents trust him which says a lot because they hate *everyone* that I like!] for being so damn supportive of me while I have been a fat lazy whiny bitch who has her own room but still insists on sleeping on the couch while people want to watch TV. :) More thanks to friends who even though I have not spent time with in person, they have helped me out a lot: ELLIOTT of course (who runs da souf bitch!), Melody (my bestest internet 'waist-up' girlfriend), Diamond and Dezirae (for being awesome in general), the folks on opiophile.org (well most of y'all at least), the people at my church (who of course don't know that this blog exists) and all my online friends. Also, thanks to the gracious woman who gave me the jasmine plant- I know you don't want to be named on this blog, but you know who you are- thank you. Y'all kick ass, and not just because you hang with me.

I wanted to say something about the person who "prefers to remain anonymous" (instead of just "promoting themselves and their blogs", that's kind of funny since just about everyone who comments with their blog link already has a link from my site anyways, hah). People say not to respond to her dumbness (I'm pretty sure she is female) and I did anyways, but I'm not going to anymore. I'll still respond to the more literate of the haters, but that girl can't really be grouped with "the haters" ya know? She isn't hating, I think in her own strange way she is trying to help me out. It's just that what she says doesn't apply at all, and that's not her fault. She thinks she knows a lot more about my situation (and apparently my relationship) than she actually does. But to quote the NAzis, "if it doesn't apply, let it fly." If someone was posting about how I could improve my soybean crop, I'd ignore them too because it doesn't apply to my situation at all and therefore it's not advice I can use.

Same idea for the man-hater, which is a good name for her. She's not really a Michelle-hater, she obviously was taken advantage of and hurt by some asshole dude (as we all know, this planet has no shortage of asshole dudes) and now thinks that any woman who loves any man is bound to end up like she did. But it's just not true. I defended Greg more that I defend myself on here, but he doesn't need defending on this blog and neither does our relationship. I know he loves me, he knows I love him, we both know where we stand, and age ain't nothin' but a number.

Well, I am OUTTIE and when I return, I shall post pictures of the munchkin!

pictures that I shoulda posted a week ago

1) the tiny grass snake I found and caught on the front porch

2) my huge ass in my beach outfit (bathing suit underneath since I had to go to the 'done clinic first)

3) me holding the blanket I crocheted for the baby- I started that sumbitch in April and just finished it a couple weeks ago.

4) the room that the baby and I will share

5) same as above, only a close-up of my shelf o' baby crap

6) same room, same crap, this time a close-up of the crib (which my father put together, but my mom and I did the stroller with no "manly assistance!")

7) me and my mom at the baby shower

8) all the women that showed up to the shower... look at all of 'em!! I wasn't kidding, was I?

9) at baby shower opening presents

10) top row [left to right]- my aunt Irene, my cousin Lorraine, and my aunt Diana (Lorraine's mom); bottom row- me and my mama

11) some of the many many presents I received at the shower