with all these concerns churning in my overactive pregnant brain I made the decision that this has been therapeutic for me. as of today I have been one week and four days off of zoloft. the first time in six years I have not relied on medication to make me feel “normal”. I attribute this change to several factors: my aforementioned pregnancy, my devoted and loving husband, a handful of very patient friends and family, and Pretty Helmet.

there are some big things coming in the very near future, specifically the birth of The Manatee. I want to share this with you if you will let me. and I want you to share with me if you feel it necessary. we’ll be a big groping group of sharing.

then we’ll get liquored up, take advantage of each other and not call in the morning.

wait, did i walk into a gestation competition? will there be jello wrestling?

who in the hell says that? this isn’t a pissing contest. or in my case a i-haven’t-pooped-in-ten-days contest. when i brought up this woman’s comment to dmoney she said that the woman was probably just comparing the fact that her child is no longer a “manatee” and is more of an actual baby now. while this justification got me through the next hour of the evening i went home a stewed that it was still a completely inappropriate comment. even if this woman meant that her child is more developed than mine i have to reiterate that WHO THE FUCK CARES?! congratulations, you get to experience the miracle of childbirth five whole weeks before i do. they should give her a cookie, or a medal, or a swift punch in the tit.

and just for comparison purposes, this is the Manatee! at the time of this tete-a-tete:

and crazee ladee’s baby:

oh yes, i see the differences. while the Manatee! is still kind of skinny and would quickly be signed as a top runway model, her baby will be sitting at a fat camp snarfing cheetos and wondering why her mother is an unapologetic douchebag

look! a bump! or it could be all of the aforementioned soup i’ve been consuming. 15 weeks, suckas!

and because i’m in a giving mood, here is another belly shot. stay tuned to next week when i showcase the enormity that are my boobs.

brock had some nasty, smelly tumors removed from his ear about a month ago. apparently they could do nothing about the other 15 pounds of him.

these are kev’s evil dead figurines that stand sentinel on his desk. i assume to give him inspiration when he’s doing our monthly household budget.

this picture is really for my dad, the biggest Alabama University fan i know. roll tide, daddy!

please, for the love of all that is holy don’t call or email me and laugh knowingly and say “oh you silly child with your ten hour sleep a night, it gets so much worse”. frankly i don’t think i could handle that comment and neither could you. because i will come to your house and kick you in the mouth with one of my swollen feet.

and where is kevin in all this gestational wonderment? doting lovingly on his crazed wife. he has become “that husband” sans rushing out to buy a quart of ice cream and pickles. no, he is a smart man who stocks the fridge with every culinary delight my hormonal body can think of.

now, where did i put that tub of cream cheese and pork rinds?

you see i’ve been busy making this:

yes sirree bob, we are expecting a blob. a baby blob to be more exact. we call it The Manatee! and yes, with that annoying exclamation point. kind of like killer tomatoes! the punctuation really isn’t necessary but it sure does make an impact. as of the date of the ultrasound i was 6 weeks, 4 days and the The Manatee! was measuring 6 weeks, 1 day. we saw it’s little heartbeat pump, pump, pumping away and by god it was gorgeous. i cried, kev cried, the ultrasound technician rolled her eyes, it was a magic moment. our due date is march 14th and i have promised my dad i won’t ruin his st. patrick’s day by doing anything silly like pushing a human out of my hoo-haw.

holy shit, i’m pregnant.

joe bonamassa performing at the miller lite stage. yeah, i don’t know who he is either.

stoned cobra at the engel homegrown stage. they’re name should’ve been “canadian tuxedo”.

i don’t know what is sexier: the guy’s pirates of the caribbean hat or the fact that his best friend is homeless dan.

bree and bird who is totally heterosexual. he’ll tell you so too.

not in any relation to city stages we bought a new coverlet and sheets this weekend. our other comforter was red velvet and was like a blanket of ick. i probably would have slept better in an oven.

cooper and i played with mr. seal, her stuffed blue seal from new orleans. mr. seal has had a hard life. both his head and his tail have been ripped open and stuffing falls out of him if you even look at him wrong. cooper’s love/hate relationship with stuffed animals has always been interesting. especially if they have squeakers. her first task is to rip open one orifice and find the cause of the squeaking. once it’s only means of protesting have been substantially chewed she finishes off said animal by violently shaking every piece of poly-blend fiber out of it’s body until nothing remains but an empty carcass of felt and buttons.

my “jesus christ on a stick it is hot out here!” hairdo is courtesy of lisa at orbit salon. hi lisa! she made my head feel twenty pounds lighter and a thousand times cuter. atleast the girl at the stop-n-go said so.

and if by chance my hairdo isn’t your taste, here is a big, fat, squishy kitty. everyone loves thick pussy. now pull your mind out of the gutter.

i will miss you terribly.

MollyCate (LD’s Pigaroo): January 18, 2000 - June 3, 2008

hai, i iz lira. i iz a nut.

our rose bush is in bloom. i wish the innernets was scratch & sniff.

more pretty smelling things in my yard.

hai! i see u haz doritos.

i brung backup in case u wudn’t give up dorito.

hai, i’m still heer. doritos not my foretay.

5 minutes before showtime and mike still doesn’t have his shit together.

dmoney turned 32 saturday and threw herself one kick ass party. i can’t remember the last time i had a keg at a party. of course i don’t, i was probably curled up in a fetal position around it’s empty barrel. and no, it is not a coincidence that we’re all wearing irreverent t-shirts. only 2 of us are actual douchebags.

dmoney models the earrings i gave her for her birthday. it’s a free trade product so the 100 year old tibetan lady who fashioned them, while hunched over in a 4×4 sweatbox, was compensated handsomely with a goat.

if i was a meteorologist i would constantly send out cloud fart weather warnings.

that is juice in the cup. yummy, yummy hoppy juice.

at parties in the South we burn shit. in a cauldron. dancing naked under the full moon is not required until your third visit.

hot pr0n. need i say more?

rob in repose. that would make a great band name. a band that does falco covers.

all photos can be seen here. go there now! or i’ll turn you into a newt!