In which I… Bleh. I’m sure it doesn’t matter

Holy flying crap nuggets I suck at blogging anymore. Believe it or not, there was actually a time when I would update on a regular basis, even when I didn’t have anything to write about. I could just make up a post about something like The River Of Whore® and ramble on for paragraphs. (Actually, thinking back, that was merely one of many things in a list of crap I had randomly googled and posted the pictures that came up. It was actually pretty fucking funny.)


These days, I find myself exhausted for no reason and procrastinating when it comes to doing ANYTHING. Sure, I can blame it on being big fat pregnant (and believe me, I totally do), but I’m pretty sure it’s cuzz I am also full of the lazy. That and I still haven’t managed to get passed the damned writer’s block that I’ve been plagued with for the past few years.

Stupid writer’s block.

So, basically, the only thing I have to really talk about at the moment is the pregnancy itself and that is nowhere near as exciting as I try to tell myself that it is. Seriously. I sit, drink water, crave food (and beer and cigarettes cuzz that’s OBVIOUSLY something I should crave right now), push on my ankles to see if I’m swelling, and attempt to walk around without looking like a penguin or like I’m in massive amounts of pain when I stand up. (The baby has decided to drop already and she seems to be attempting to kick her way out of me. I feel bruised and standing makes it worse.) Tonight, I have the added bonus of trying to keep a cat in heat off of me long enough to maybe toss her on the floor. Smokie has Super Do Me® strength or something, though, cuzz when I try to pick her up, if she manages to grab hold of the couch or chair, I can’t pull her off. She’s seriously the size of a kitten, but she is AMAZINGLY strong, which is actually pretty damned creepy. Oh, and she’s already woke the boy once with her constant meowing for a boyfriend. Thankfully she doesn’t go into heat very often.

Wow. That was some brilliant writing right there.

Now that I have determined that I want peanut butter cups (but do not have any peanut butter cups cuzz I ate them earlier this afternoon), I have realized that Squishy has decided to kick the shit out of my bladder. I’m thinking that’s my cue to get of the damn laptop and attempt to make the sleep. Stupid pregnancy insomnia kicking in. Bleh.

Oh, if you couldn’t tell, I’ve resolved to write more in hopes that I might just conquer my writer’s block this year. I kinda feel like that was the same thing I did last year, but I can’t remember back that far due to the baby brain and whatnot.

And no, I do not plan on writing only about being pregnant. That would be boring to me, so I’m sure it would be boring to others as well. And I also have friends that can’t have babies that read this and I would hate to be “That Chick”. I can remember reading blogs where the author found out she was pregnant and that became the only thing she wrote about. I used to get upset reading those blogs cuzz, uh, getting knocked up isn’t a walk in the park for everyone. Then I would feel like the biggest bitch in the world for being upset that the author was so happy and I wasn’t cuzz I was told that there would be no more babies for me. I don’t want to be the cause of someone else going through that cycle cuzz it sucks. It really, really sucks.

And now I’m off to pee. Yeah, I know you’re jealous. 😛

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