I've got a case of pregnancy brain

This is how I feel.

You guys, I swear, if I could bottle up pregnancy hormones and get Cathy to review them on Booze Day Tuesday, every distillery, brewery and other booze making establishment would go out of business and I'd get that cool billion I've always dreamed of because pregnancy hormones cause a drunk feeling that really can't occur any other way.

I mean, y'all know my husband. He buys RC hummers. He obsessive compulsively locks his car. He makes ridiculous comments during the Bachelorette. He is basically silly all day, every day but even he calls me out on my ridiculousness when I have that perfect combination of sleepiness and being pregnant that makes me feel like I've tied one on. Besides the fact that it's horrible for your growing child and you shouldn't do it, there's a reason pregnant women shouldn't drink and that's the fact that we would act so insane and uncontrollable even that one girl who always gets drunk and cries at parties will say "what's with that hot mess? she needs to lay off the sauce, pronto!"

While I didn't realize how drunk they would make me feel, preg hormones also make me incredibly forgetful. I'd heard of this pregnancy phenomenon but I was all, MALARKEY there is no such thing! My brain was, is and forever will be sharp as a tack! Oh, how wrong I was. Two stories to demonstrate:

• We were filling out our registry info at Target one Saturday night after a pretty long, intense nap. I typed in my name and then our house number: 4748. Hubby looked at me and said, "really? You know that's not right." I tried again. 5758. He looked shocked and asked me to try again. People, we've lived in this house a year now. I know my house number, but for some reason, that night I couldn't think of it. He kindly filled me in and then promptly put his head in his hands and walked to the bench when I pulled WV from the list of states to complete our address. WE HAVEN'T LIVED IN WV FOR GOING ON 3 YEARS. 
• I was in the onesie bathroom at work, the one where people always leave their 'fragrance' behind even though there is a larger bathroom down the hall with better ventilation BUT I DIGRESS (because this bitter pill is getting hard to swallow). I washed my hands and turned toward the paper towel dispenser to pull out a sheet. It was the kind that you just pull to advance to the next towel (no cranks or buttons). No paper to pull. I thought to myself, hmm, must have gotten new paper towel dispensers with cranks. No cranks. I panicked and wiped my wet, clean hands on my jeans, then walked out, hoping another dispenser would be working. The dispenser next to the sink didn't have a crank either. What the? OH, it's an automatic dispenser..no cranks or pulling needed, just the wave of my hot little hand. Mercy.

Hubby has gotten used to my bewildered looks on the daily, inability to remember simple tasks and other foibles but thankfully I only have 15 more weeks until my brain begins to function again.

Have you ever forgotten your own address? Did you have preg brain? Do you have preg brain right now? Do you know what blog you're reading? Do you remember how awesome the show Friends was, cause I'm sort of re-obsessed right now.

image via

Meet my mortal enemy, the fax machine

I just waged an epic battle of technological will against the fax machine.

Someone emailed me and asked if I could edit a document and then -- wait for it -- FAX IT BACK TO THEM.

I just stared at the screen, gobsmacked. I felt my anxiety rise.  Fax? She's asking me to fax? But I...I mean wouldn't it be easier to.....oh crap.

I have a real vendetta against fax machines. They consistently go out of their way to make me look and feel like an idiot. I'd rather scan and email. Isn't that what sophisticated, tech savvy people do? Why are we still faxing in this day and age? There are smart phones out there that can pick out your clothes and fix you dinner, yet fax machines still exist.

Have you ever recieved a fax that is legible? I certainly haven't. The letters are always squished or part of it is cut off. And then there's the redundancy of  faxing a document, then emailing to make sure the fax-ee got all the pages. And they NEVER get all the pages. And then there's the fax, sign, and fax back and by this time might as well get out your microscope because who can read the fax of a fax. Nobody, that's who.

I mean, we might as well be drawing hieroglyphics on cave walls. Faxing. Pshhht.

I sent my first fax, no joke, in 2005 during my first job at selling ads at a local newspaper. I secretly wished every day that I was important enough to have a secretary who could fax my contracts to vendors. Faxes were a big deal at the newspaper, but people always took your fax off the machine if you weren't fast enough to grab it right away. It was always out of ink or paper. ALWAYS. What a waste of my time.

Then the second job I had I was spared from ever having to fax a document because it was a mom-and-pop design firm lacking not only a fax machine, but also a phone system. It was great.

And now I'm here and we fax, but very infrequently.

Fax machines make me feel stupid because I don't really know how they work. It's like the missing link of the technology world. It's bridging phones and the internet. I don't know how faxes work. I only presume someting like this:

 

You know what I do for a living? Web communications. I sit at a computer all day reading code, and that makes perfect sense to me, yet when it comes to fax machines, I'm all "What are you talking about, the world is round? Sure looks flat to me!" It's like fax machines make me regress to ye olden days before communication existed. They make me want to grunt and hit someone with a club.  

Here's how faxing goes for me:

1. Find the "Fax Cover Sheet Wizard" on Microsoft Word

2. File through my cabinets to find a biz card with my own fax number on it

3. Print off the fax cover sheet

4. Stand in front of the fax machine for 5 minutes trying to figure out which way the paper should be inserted

5. Spend another 5 minutes trying to recall if I need to dial 9 for an outside number

6. Dial the fax

7. Transpose some numbers and ask the staff assistant where the "clear" button is

8. Spend another 3 minutes finding the "send" button

9. Wait for the fax to go connect

10. Continue waiting

11. Discover the fax wasn't sent correctly

12. Repeat

The process is terrifying. I can count the number of times I successfully faxed something on the first attempt on ONE HAND. There must be a limited amount of storage in my brain, so after each fax my brain goes "I can't imagine we'll have to do THAT again!" and just purges all that useless fax information. Because my brain is advanced.

Watch out, fax machine, I will stab you in your sleep.

P.S. This was written mainly so my sister has something to read while she's at work. You're welcome, Sister!

Dear Loreal...

Dear Loreal Voluminous mascara,

I am so sorry that I chose to get Great Lash mascara from your competitor, Maybelline, last time I shopped for mascara.

I should have known better. I've been using you for twelve years and you haven't failed me yet. It was you, Voluminous, that made my high school crush tell me I had pretty eyes. I DID have pretty eyes, Voluminous, and it's all thanks to you. During my college days, you helped me get free drinks at bars when I would bat my eyelashes at some unsuspecting fella. Wait -- now that I think about it, I might need to than Victoria's Secret for that. No mind. I still love you.

I love how fat and dark you make my lashes. I like how you're affordable and last forever. I love how you don't smell funny or make my eyes water. I'm sorry I was fooled by the "Elle Magazine Mascara of the Year" sticker on the Great Lash packaging. Great Lash is a dirty, pathalogical liar. I bet it paid off Elle so you wouldn't win. There is no way on God's green earth they won that fight fair and square. I will never stray from you again.

Love,
Amanda

Can I have last year back?

So remember two days ago when I wrote this post about how I couldn't wait for 2010 to get here and  my words were overflowing with excitement, joy and love?  Pretend like that didn't happen. Read this instead.

During the first 3 hours we were awake on New Years Day, my husband accidentally stepped on my laptop and cracked the screen. It was both our bads, I shouldn't keep my laptop in the floor and he shouldn't step on things that clearly feel like a computer and not the floor. Luckily it can be fixed as long as I part with $199 of my hard earned money and send it to Texas for 7 to 10 business days.

At that point I was all, OK, twenty-ten, I see how this is going to go. You're going to try and break me the very first day of the year. Well, listen, you're not going to get me to crack that easily, try a little harder. And you guys? I should know better than to idly threaten the new year.

Today I stained some shelves that Hubby made for me. I thought they were completely covered and came back inside. A few minutes later Hubby comes in and says, "Honey, I'm not trying to be mean, but there were some spots you missed. Don't worry, Dad is getting them, but I wanted to tell you." And I just have a mini-meltdown right then and there because I do not take criticism of any kind very well. There goes the resolution about being patient and positive.

Then we went to dinner at Steak and Shake. There was this dude who came in and he had wild hair, a button up shirt, smart-person-professor glasses, a National Parks magazine and Florida Gator PJ pants. I told Hubby that this dude is probably a professor who is, like, a genius but can't relate to anyone on a personal level and sometimes forgets where he is or what he is doing because he's thinking about history or physics or philosophy.

A couple hours later, we're all sitting at church. I look down and realize I have on one brown boot and one black boot. I mean honestly, what the heck is wrong with me? I can't even make the too-smart-for-my-own-good excuse! And then I do the stupiest thing possible and tell everybody I can. Like my in-laws and husband AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET.

How's the new year going for you guys so far?

Go Gators, but Not Really

I was so tired this morning and just so ready for Friday that I decided to just throw on whatever nice, plain t-shirt I hadn't worn recently. It just happened to be an orange. Then I pulled on a pair of jeans, but decided, since I ate a donut last night before I went to bed and nothing looks good today, to put on a pair of looser, bluer blue jeans so I could have a comfy Friday.

And as I'm driving to work I see lots of UF students with orange shirts on and think to myself, "oh, I just remembered there is a UF Football game on tonight so they are all supporting the Gators, wonder what people at work will be wearing. Betcha I'll see a lot of Orange and Blue today!"

And then I walk in and my co-worker who is a huge fan says to me, "Oh good job! You wore orange and blue today, GO GATORS!"

AND SON OF A ..............

I really and truly forgot from the time I walked out the door to the time I walked into my office that I was wearing UF colors. I mean what is wrong with me and my brain today?

Then I got it like 3 more times and I'm all, "I didnt' mean to!" Because a Gator fan I am NOT.