Reeeeeeeally.

I had my doctor appointment yesterday, and I decided that my doc is a QUACK.  Bad news is?  Baby's not here yet, and I'm getting increasingly worried that this child will, indeed, make its appearance at about 4pm on Thursday.  Crap.

My doc didn't schedule an additional u/s (ya know, to check amniotic fluid levels or anything), but he went ahead and scheduled me for an induction.  On Sunday.  I told Bryan that if the baby's not here by Friday I'm calling the doc's office and discussing alternatives with him.  I vehemently refuse to be induced... UNLESS there's a damn good reason for it.  I've been induced with both girls, and GOOD GOD IT SUCKS.  Plus, with Phoebe I was only dilated to 8cm when she was born, and that's just not right.  It's not going to happen again, sohelpmegod.

The doc didn't tell me whether or not I was dilated, didn't tell me whether or not I was effaced, but *did* sign the induction order with a little wave as if to say, "Bye!  You're not my problem anymore, so get lost!"  I just might end up having this baby in my bathroom after all.  The doctor DID tell me, however, that he couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't have the baby on Thanksgiving.  REALLY?  You PUDWANKER!  No freakin' kidding.  He made it sound like this kid should come with a 90-day warantee and a free tire rotation.  I soooooooooo almost bit him on the arm.

So.  I broke out of my boredom funk, and I picked up an old pattern book that has some cute (okay, so they're really ugly, but I DON'T CARE) slipper patterns, and I was going to get started on some Christmas gifts.  Well.  There are knit and crochet patterns in there, and there are some really cute knit slippers for little kids.  Like, Phoebe's age.  Like, they have kitties and bunnies and puppies on them, and they're really cute.

I read through the pattern, and lo and behold I actually understood what the pattern was saying!  Since it didn't seem too hard, I grabbed my handy SnB book for reference, and knit one up.  It came out way too big, but I learned that a) I was knitting in the back loops instead of the front, b) I was purling wrong, and c) I actually CAN knit.  So I made the slippers again, complete with knitted bunny heads and knitted bunny ears, and they fit!  And they're damn adorable!  And I CAN KNIT!  (can you hear the choir and the trumpets and the angelic voices singing "Hallelujah?")

Phoebe loves them, although she did try very hard to pull the bunny head off.  She wore them all last night, and I am so proud of myself (can you tell?) that I FINALLY figured out basic knitting!

Next up I'm knitting Marissa a pair of leg warmers, which should take me approximately 30 years, since I'm slow and knitting doesn't yield results as quickly as crochet.  After that, I think I'll tackle circular needles, and then I absolutely must have a pattern for knit wool longies for the babies.  I'm just so FREAKIN' ECSTATIC that I actually knit, like, an actual THING!!!! that I could pee myself.  And, if I get a little over-enthusiastic, I just might.

Oh, one more thing.  I had previously requested that people take down their links to my blog, but all those old dreadful drama issues seem to have dissipated (look!  alliteration!  I DID learn something from that ancient old English teacher!), so if you want to link to me feel free to do so.  Gowaaan.  Do it.  You know you want to.

Take THAT, bitches!

So, going with the theory (well, fact, really) that Dell Corp. is a satanic cult that kills innocent animals for ritualistic sacrifice, maims the elderly, and snatches candy from children, it would follow that the only way to get ink cartridges for my printer is through Dell.

None of this walking into a store and finding some generic cartridge that "will fit printers XYZ-SOB", of course, because Dell (turning the corporation into a singular entity) is a beyotch.  They  want you to order all your ink strictly through Dell, and  want to charge whatever they want.  The price, to be honest, really isn't the point for me, it's the fact that I *have* to order it through Dell, and I *have* to order it online........ and I don't WANNA.

I've been playing the ink game with Dell for awhile now, and I finally got a wild donkey hair up my butt and decided to march down to the store, ink cartridge in hand, and circumvent the greasy behemoth.  And guess what?  I found a Lexmark cartridge that worked!  BOOYAH!  It was with no small amount of satisfaction that I printed out the test page on the printer, and (very carefully) did the victory-dance-of-glee, all the while telling Dell exactly what they could do with their ink cartridges.

While I was in the middle of my victory dance, my mother happened to call me.  We got to talking about Thanksgiving dinner, and I asked what her plans were, and if she and my dad were coming to our house to have dinner.  She told me that she was going to go to a grocery store and buy a cooked turkey/ham/chicken/whatever, and bring it over to my house.  I told her that I was going to be making turkey, so that would be pretty redundant of her, and she insisted that I would be in labor or delivering the baby, and therefore unable to cook (that woman SERIOUSLY underestimates me, don'tcha think?). 

Still being on a high from the ink cartridge victory, and being cocky, I told her that a) there was no way in hell she was buying a turkey, b) I'm going to cook a damn turkey come hell, high water, or baby, and c) that if she hasn't by now figured out what a stubborn shit I am then she needed her head checked.  She cackled (never a good sign), and somehow I ended up making a wager with my mom and dad about when the baby is going to be born.  The details are a little fuzzy, but I know it has something to do with whether or not I'm physically capable of cooking the turkey to completion.  I think it goes that if I'm able to cook the turkey, I win, and they pay for dinner.  If I can't cook the turkey, I lose, pay for the turkey, and mom goes and buys some awful overcooked grocery store bird.

I'm not saying I'm not going to have the child on Thanksgiving, and I'm not saying that I'll even be home to eat Thanksgiving dinner.  All I know is that I'm going to win this bet, dammit, even if that means delivering one turkey in the kitchen while I'm pulling the other turkey out of the oven.  MARK MY WORDS.

If only.

I'm going to start writing down snappy retorts on a 3x5 notecard, and that way when some pudwanker says something dumb I'll have a snappy response handy.

Wow, you're really going to have your hands full!

Nah, not really.  I'm just going to get more chicken wire and expand the kid-cage in the backyard.  I wouldn't want ANYTHING to come between me and my stories.

You know pregnant women really shouldn't be drinking soda.  (said in the checkout line of a grocery store while buying Bryan some nasty-ass diet Pepsi).

Well getting high makes me thirsty, and it's either this or Vodka, so....

You cloth diaper?  Wow, well good for you!  I just couldn't stand the thought of touching poop.  That's just so gross!

Well I love poop.  Actually, I just scrape it off her diaper and put it in a glass jar that I carry around with me everywhere I go.  (digging around in purse)  Wanna see?

So, how old is *that* one? (pointing to Phoebe, usually said when they realize I'm pregnant and carrying around a toddler)

Oh, that one's not really mine.  I have a soft spot for strays, and once you feed them it's a BITCH to get rid of them.

That's interesting.  Does it hurt to carry her around in that thing? (said when Phoebe's in the sling)

My instructor for my bondage/S&M class said I needed to work on my pain tolerance, so that's why I do it.  It's only really a problem when I can't see because tears of agony are streaming down my face.

I know most people don't mean anything by their comments, but really it's either be a sarcastic brat or carry around a bullhorn, so that when I hear a stupid question/comment coming on I can just blast their asses, and then waddle away gleefully.  Now that I think of it, maybe the bullhorn idea sounds better...

Motivation-free, baby.

I have no will to do ANYTHING.  I need to crochet a baby sweater for lil' bean, I need to finish Phoebe's longies, I need to make some more diapers, I need to make more pants (for myself, for once!), I need to make at least one wool soaker for the bean.... but I can't.  I can't even get off my butt long enough to whine to Bryan about how booooooored I am.

I was supposed to see the doc today, but as I was sitting in the chair getting my BP taken he was called out for a delivery.  They rescheduled me for later today, but I didn't feel like doing anything except taking a nap, so I re-rescheduled for Wednesday.  Plus, I have diarrhea today (WAHOO!  no, not pre-labor poo, it's from bad food) but the point is that I didn't want to have to brave a vaginal exam with my sphincter muscles in a compromised state.  I mean, could you IMAGINE the MORTIFICATION if I accidentally LOST CONTROL AND POOED ON THE DR.?  When I'm delivering the baby all bets are off, and I'll poo away if needed, but right now I just couldn't stand the thought.  So I hope everyone is sufficiently grossed out now.

When we were out and about today I had two different ladies tell me that I was going to go into labor today.  I laughed in their faces.  If this kid is anything like Phoebe then it's going to be awhile before it makes an appearance.  Which is good.  Because I need to get some moti-freakin'-vation to get some stuff done before the baby gets here.

Real quick....

Here's a shot of me at 37 weeks, wearing my soopah cool pants.  Please forgive the messy living room and the scary hair.