Wait...How Old Am I?

The best part of being pregnant is that I can blame this baby for EVERYTHING right now. Once he or she is out, I'm sure I'll find a way to continue to do so. But for the time being, it's quite helpful.

Especially because I think I've actually started to lose it, as evidenced by this text exchange from the other day with CB:

Happy Wednesday!

What I Learned by Stalking Rich People

So every day I walk by a bunch of galleries and high-end furniture stores on my way to work in NYC. I glance into the windows and wonder who actually shops there, since everything as far as the eye can see costs more than my month’s salary, I’m pretty sure. But it’s all so perfectly decorated and laid out that I gaze longingly, though I’m clearly not their target audience. I’m pretty sure these places are catering to a class of people who wouldn’t want to hang with me unless they were doing a charity outreach program to people who shop at Target and consider Pottery Barn “a little rich for my blood.”

But as I longingly peer into the lives of people much richer than I will ever dream of being, I also think to myself: Super Rich people are weird.

Because, as you’re about to see on the visual virtual tour of my walk to work every day, super rich people like some wacky stuff, you guys. I mean, this isn't a scientific study, I suppose, but I'm pretty sure the seven pictures I'm about to show you sum up ALL SUPER RICH PEOPLE. Because that's how science and opinions work.  

Let’s proceed: 

1. This terrifies me every day. It's the ad for an art exhibit about a block from my office and it makes me happy that my unborn baby can't see through my skin. 

The exhibit is called "Enchanted Space." However, this photo always gives me "Horrific Nightmares." 

What is happening here? I don't get art and I kind of don't care? I really, really, really hate art exhibits. Like, to the point that I think maybe there's something wrong with me. Because the last thing I ever in my life will ever want to do is go look at art - pretty much any kind. I mean, if you're my friend and you've done something artsy and I'm coming to support you? Cool. But I'm banking on free champagne and hor duerves to get me through the event, and we should both know that going in. 

Even "good" art, which I deem as anything not "modern" and/or made during the Baroque period. I'm pretty sure the last time I went to an art exhibit and spent any sort of real time there is when I was visiting a hot guy I was in love with who lived in Vienna and he thought it'd be "fun" to take me to a super-boring Viennese art exhibit. I woud've preferred just going to have coffee and looking at his face, but instead, we looked at a bunch of paintings of people who looked depressed sitting perfectly still and sometimes eating fruit.

I mean, I just don't get it, and I don't really care if I ever do. And stuff like this just confuses me instead of enchants me. I'm so uncouth! (also, I realize that you don't have to be rich to appreciate art. However, this art exhibit looks so fancy that I'm pretty sure you have to dress up to go inside. Sort of like those stores in Beverly Hills from "Pretty Woman" where she wasn't dressed well enough and so they wouldn't even serve her. I'm guessing it's the non-prostitute version of that.) 

2. This is the first of many random animals that rich people supposedly like to decorate their homes with. This, I think? is a cheetah. Or a house cat on steroids. Or some exotic rich cat found in the wild on safaris that I've never been on. 

It also looks like it's thinking of eating me and so I'm struggling to reason why you'd want this in your living room. 

Do super rich people like to be scared in their homes and/or while enjoying leisure time? Because between the art exhibit and this, I'm deducing that the answer is yes. 

I should have a PhD in sociology, you guys. 

3. It took me a minute to figure out what this was, but it's, duh, giant grapes on a table. 

Super Rich people love giant things! 

But seriously. Where do you put this? Is this, like, instead of flowers as your centerpiece? I'm guessing it goes on a table since the display has it on a table, but then...is it just a grape display table? Because you can't really functionally use that table to, like, work from home or eat a snack. Right? 

And when you visit someone with giant fruit on their table, are you obliged to acknowledge it? Like "Hey, where did you get your giant gold grapes? I've wanted something to complement my enormous bowl of peaches for a while and just haven't quite been able to find the right accent piece." Oh, also, rich people say "accent piece," not sure if you knew that. 

4. Now, to be fair, I'm guessing a super rich person with taste wouldn't have ALL of these things in their home at the same time. Maybe, like, the giant grapes and the cheetah go in your primary home, and the horse heads and the snail (below) go to your lake house? Because that would be too many oversized animals/food products in one place, right? 

But this just creates more questions than answers for me. Is the snail a garden piece? Would you be foolish to have this in your foyer (pronounced "foyAY" if you're fancy) and your other friends would all talk about you behind your back after the cocktail party and be like "Wow, Elaine really has no eye for where that giant bronzed snail should go. How could she NOT know that it belongs in her atrium?" 

And AHHHHHH! Where do the three giant sheep go??? This is getting out of control!!!!

What if you can't afford all three? Is it just not done to have one sheep? Or two? Are they for counting at night? Are these bedroom sheep? I need answers about the giant sheep, you guys! Plus, do you have to buy the sheep pedestal that the one king sheep is on in the display? Do rich people just know these things?? This is so stressful!!!! 

5. And finally, if you're looking for a luxury condo to put all of your giant animals in, look no further than a place that apparently doesn't discriminate against 18th century people, 18th century people who don't wear tops, and the shockingly buff tattoo artist who kind of gives you the creeps because he lives in the garage behind the shop but also is sort of artsy and aloof in that way that college girls really like? They'll totally take all of those people! I really need to get a wig and/or more tattoos. It'll be my key to success. 

Or so I'm guessing based upon this very specific advertisement that just has the website for the condo building and pictures of these people on it. You must just know what to do if you're Super Rich and like to wear corsets while staring at your giant grapes and petting your massive flock of sheep. But I know for sure that they probably definitely like terrifying art exhibits

Is this what rich people in SoHo look like? I'm learning so much on my way to work, you guys! Thanks for taking the tour with me. 

Happy Wednesday! 

Friday Monday Wrapup

It's that time...only a few days late! Let's get to it.

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First: Mama Bear is gettin' irritated, you guys. Poor CB has had to hear me rant (and apparently "yell more than you used to") about people on the subway not offering their seats to an eight(plus) months pregnant person more than they acknowledge and offer. I take the train 10 times per week. On average, I'm seated and/or offered a seat about 2-3 of those times.

I'm terrible at math and even I know that's really bad, you guys.

However, to the people who immediately get up and insist I take their seat? You're saints and heroes and my giant cankles thank you. For the 95% of you who pretend like you don't see me even though I totally saw you see me? YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

Because step one for me is all of the (in-apartment) yelling I've done after a long day/week of commuting. Step two is me rehearsing in my head what I will say to people when I finally snap (insert: all last week and today). Step three is me snapping and the 5 o'clock news footage of a tired, potentially cry-y pregnant woman talking about manners and scolding strangers because she just can't take it anymore, you guys.

So, society: you've been warned. GET. UP.

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On a lighter and way less scream-y note, the book of the week is here! "In a Sunburned Country" had me at the cover. Anything with a kangaroo on the front basically gets my vote. However, it also sounds, as the review boasts, like "a good summer read." And since we're heading up to Memorial Day, this is timely! Go Amos Family!

So click here to check it out and browse around for other inspiration!

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You guys. I didn't watch the Billboard Awards because (a) I was probably sleeping and (b) I don't even know who half of these people are anymore because I've purposely aged myself out of listening to or being familiar with any music by someone named Waka Flocka Flame.

So instead, I'm going to highlight a band that popped up on my iPod this morning that immediately brought me back to a specific time and place in my life nearly 6 years ago. I was obsessed with Airborne Toxic Event and when this song came on I fell in love with them all over again. There's just something about music from your past that sucks you back in every time (I'm looking at you, "I Wanna Dance With Somebody"!)

Enjoy!

Ahhhh! Happy Friday!

Having some internet/video posting issues today so I'll save the Friday wrap up - complete with a new book of the week - until Monday.

Happy Friday, enjoy your weekend!

I Might Join AARP for the Swag.

I got a letter in the mail the other day from AARP, inviting me to become a member. I kept staring at it, assuming I was misreading. But alas, I was not.

So I showed it to CB, who promptly had a field day with this information.

CB: “Look at the tote bag you’d get! That’s really nice, you should join!”
Me: “I’m not 50 or older!”
CB: “Maybe they’re just going by your average bedtime?”
Me: “I hate you.”
CB: “Plus, we might get discounts and stuff. You should really consider it.”
Me: “I’M THIRTY-SEVEN!”

And then he started reading the letter out loud to me as I walked away to pretend I couldn’t hear his laughter. However, as he got to the last sentence, he started laughing so hard that I started laughing just by watching him laugh, even though I didn’t know what we were laughing about.

CB: “We have to frame this.”
Me: “I hate you.”
CB: “Listen to this last sentence…. ‘It can help you protect your health, your money, your family, your career-“

And then he took a long pause to wipe away laughter-tears:

CB: “-and make the most of life over 50.”

And then he had to sit forward to let the laughter out more, as he clutched the favorite piece of mail he’s never received in his hands.

I’ll begin speaking to him sometime this fall. 

You do have to admit, though, that's a pretty sweet bag. 

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

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This week's book is "The Road to Character" by David Brooks. I kind of dig David Brooks. I don't always agree with him (which I could say literally about everyone...except Beyonce), but oftentimes he makes me think and is so darned rational that I'm like "You know what? I think you're right!"

Which is why I'm glad that my dad blogged about this new book, though reading has been a challenge for me lately (laying down + doing anything but sleeping = not up my alley). I'm going to download this to my Kindle, though, and have it at the ready for when I finally keep my eyes open for longer than 10 minutes while stationary!

Click here and enjoy!

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This Sunday is Mother's Day and while I've always loved and appreciated my mom, I think I'm just hitting the tip of the iceberg now that I'm about to be one myself. Holy crap, mom....thanks.

Also, a friend sent this to me yesterday and I've watched it, like, three times and just keep on laughing. Some of my favorite moments are "It’s nice to know that your body wants to destroy you" and "If anyone tries to f___ with me, how f___’ing dare you.”

Every single mother has gone through some form of this, though the getting out of bed and bending over the dishwasher are daily routines I've found myself dreading. Also, found out yesterday that Chubs McGee (that's my new name for our baby) is FOUR POUNDS already. Hence, my Fred Flinstone feet. Love you, Chubs!

Also also, CB and I both accidentally watched/read about birth stuff that happens the other day (mine was an accident, he was the big dummy that read about an episiotomy on purpose) and I've decided that I'll just carry my child on the inside for forever.

Enjoy.

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And now, the Video of the Week! This is one of my favorite The Streets songs so figured I'd share it! And then I couldn't remember if I'd posted it before. And then I didn't care and so I'm posting it anyway. Happy Friday, Happy Mother's Day Weekend, and see you Monday!

Someone has to have me as a mom.

So yesterday, my awesome co-workers threw me a surprise baby shower, complete with cake, balloons, and games. It was great, they’re all great, and I was so surprised that I immediately turned red and started sweating out of adrenaline/shock. It was a good time.

However, one of the games made me realize a few things. It was a baby animal game, duh, where you're given the names of the adult animals and then had to come up with the baby word for that animal.

Sounds easy for a grown up, right?

See below and then let’s focus in on a few things:

• I literally wrote “baby” in front of a few adult animal names thinking maybe that was actually right. It was not. Also, NOBODY knows what a baby elephant is called. 
• Everyone but me knew that horses and ponies were two different animals! WHO KNEW THAT? When did you learn it? How did I miss this? I was unsurprisingly, not embarrassed that this was happening in front of my boss and my boss’ boss. At one point, my director put his head in his hands when I mentioned that it’s a good thing I didn’t have to take this quiz in order to get my job. However, I did suggest that we start implementing it as a good way to filter out other dumb people like me so that we don’t hit a critical mass of people who think ponies are baby horses. 
• Nobody knows what a baby raccoon is called. That’s just ridiculous.
• Cheater’s tip: if you’re unsure, write “calf.” That was the answer to almost every one I didn’t know. Not “baby _______", FYI.
• I high-fived my coworker when it was confirmed that a baby butterfly is a caterpillar. Because we had this actual, adult conversation (oh, and yes, we were conspiring because he didn't want to actually play, but is too competitive to not be involved): 

Me: "I'm pretty sure it's caterpillar....right?"
Him: "Maybe? I don't know, are all caterpillars baby butterflies?"
Me: "That's a question for the ages. I'm going with caterpillar." 

• When writing down “gosling” for baby goose, I then told my director: “Not like Ryan Gosling, in case you were confused.” To which I think he was really impressed.
• My friend and co-worker pointed out that I’m essentially a 5-year-old in a woman’s pregnant body because I put sad faces next to the answers I got wrong. 

Him: “What are you, in kindergarten? Who writes sad faces next to wrong answers?”
Me: “I do. Why, you don’t?”
Him: “No, I’m an adult.”
Me: “So what do you write?”
Him: “I don’t know, x’s?”
Me: “Wow. That’s boring.”

I’m going to be a mom to someone, you guys.

Happy Wednesday!

I've Become a Giant Marshmallow Man. Plus, CB totally loves life!

Good news: I’m done peeing into a jug.

Bad news: My hands and feet have disappeared and someone has replaced them with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s extremities.

CB is really liking this stage of marriage and life, you guys. It’s fun for him to watch me transform before his eyes, get a running start at sitting upright, and fall asleep prior to 8pm. The upside is that he could literally be leading a much more exciting double-life that starts around 8:15 every night and I’d never know it.  

Also, his life now includes a fun new game called “Becky doesn’t know what she’s talking about but I end up doing a lot of work for nothing anyway.” It’s a working title, we’re open to suggestions.

Example 1:

On Friday, CB bought me gorgeous flowers because that’s how he rolls. So of course I broke our really nice fancy vase a few weeks ago because I’m me, but knew that we had another less-fancy vase somewhere in the apartment.

Me: “I think it’s above the refrigerator.”
CB: “Ok.”
Me, staring at him walking over to the table to eat the hot pizza that just got delivered.
CB, turning to see me staring: “What?”
Me: “Any chance you could get the vase now?”
CB: “Right now?”
Me: “Yes, because then we’ll start eating and watching the movie and then the flowers will just sit there slowly dying on the counter for hours otherwise.”
CB, grumbling about hot pizza while he walks over to the kitchen: “It’s above the refrigerator?”
Me: “I think so? I’m not really sure, but that’s my guess.”
CB, beginning to move all of the liquor bottles we have on top of the refrigerator to get to the cupboards: “Why is everything we ever need in these cupboards?”
Me: “You’re being dramatic. We barely ever use those cabinets.”
CB: “Yes, I’m the dramatic one. And I seem to remember doing this about two weeks ago looking for something that you then found in the linen closet.”
Me: “That sounds unlikely.”

Finally, he moves everything down off the fridge and opens the cupboards.

CB: “I don’t see a blue vase.”
Me: “Are you sure?”
CB: “I’m positive.”
Me, thinking.
Me: “Oh! I remember, I think it’s in the front closet!”

So I went over and opened the closet and there it was.

CB: “You do this just to mess with me, right?”
Me, laughing: “No, I swear I thought it was up there.”
CB: “Ok, but next time, let’s check the closets first, ok?”
Me: "Deal.”

Example 2:

Walking to the car the other day, CB had his hands full of bags as we had this conversation:

Me: “Oh, I think I gave you the car keys.”
CB: “Why would you give me the car keys, you’re driving?”
Me: “I know, but I don’t have pockets.”

So, CB puts all of the bags down and starts rifling through his pockets.

CB: “I don’t think I have the keys.”
Me: “You definitely have the keys.”
CB, searching.
Me, putting my hand in my pocket: “Oh! I have the keys. And pockets! My bad.”
CB: “How did you not know that you had pockets?”
Me: “I don’t really know, I guess I forgot what I was wearing. I think I was thinking about yesterday.”
CB, picking all of the bags back up: “I’m not even going to go down this road with you because I’ll just end up even more confused.”
Me: “Story of your life.”
CB: “You have no idea.”

Happy Monday! 

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

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Man, this kid loves dandelions. And it makes me laugh every time. Plus, his name is Buzz - that's kind of the best.

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This week's book is "Bring Up the Bodies" by Hilary Mantel, which we posed about a few years ago. But for those of you PBS watchers, you may recognize her name as the author of "Wolf Hall," which is a series at the moment. So, we're timely! Or ahead of our time! Obviously.

So click here to check it out and then click around to some other book favorites - enjoy!

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I want to be friends with Amy Schumer.

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And now, the Video of the Week. Actually the video this week was going to be "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias for one sole reason: when I was in a coffee shop this morning on my way to work, it came on the radio and these three construction workers, taking a break and having a cup of coffee, started quietly singing along to it. I instantly smiled because the scene was just so....funny.

But instead, here's the new video from the Alabama Shakes. Happy Friday!