Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Perhaps it's all the sugar...

Ok, so that was weird. The knocked up VP just came into my office for a command belly showing. I mean, I get it. We’re both pregnant. But, we weren’t friends before and I see no reason to be friends now. Just strange the way pregnant people and especially their bellies become public property. People feel able to say things and ask questions that would NEVER even be considered when speaking to a non-pregnant lady.
Imagine asking a casual acquaintance, “How’s the uterus today?” “Are your breasts sore?” “Having any gas?” You wouldn’t do it ever. But these are the types of questions I’m answering every time I run into another human in the hallway. And then people wonder why I’m holed up in my office all day every day.

Yesterday I decided to give myself a treat for breakfast and made a Nutella sandwich. (If you don’t know what Nutella is, or you don’t like Nutella, I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Nutella is a chocolate and hazelnut spread similar to creamy peanut butter. Except it is made of chocolate and hazelnuts. Two of the ruley-est foods every found). So, I slathered two pieces of bread with a THICK layer of the stuff, put it in a bag, and off to work I went.
After one bite, I decided that I hate that bread. It was so dense chewing was difficult. Swallowing: impossible. So instead I pulled the bread apart and licked all the Nutella off. Sounds like a balanced breakfast to me. But seriously? I want everything to be made of Nutella. All food products should be made out of chocolate. We’d all be much happier people.
Except for people who don’t like chocolate. But those people should be summarily executed anyway.

I’ve found that being constantly tired, emotional and irrational really brings out the fascist in me. In the past week I’ve lamented that a mother hadn’t aborted her ill-mannered child; an old person hadn’t just kicked off yet; that we can’t round up all people I find unnecessary and leave them in a compound in Siberia; that ex-boyfriends aren’t all immediately shipped across country in an unprecedented exchange program; and that at least 15 states in the US could be blown off the map, and no one would miss them (Florida? Gone. Arkansas? Forget it.); and that working reproductive organs aren’t handed out only after passing a general IQ and common sense test, administered by me.

Wow, writing that all down really makes me look awesome. Or something.

I’m tons of fun these days.

No comments: