Very funny 
She’s just lucky I noticed in time, before tracking the gunk through the house and trashing several new carpets. To be fair, it would have been hard to ignore the fact I was sticking to the floor!
Friday morning o-dark-thirty: toddler comes down with gastroenteritis
52 hours later: husband comes down with gastroenteritis
4 hours after that, and just in time for now-chipper toddler’s bath: I come down with gastroenteritis
Summary so far: There’s been a lot of barfing around here, you know?
Today: sweet, sweet husband takes dog to vet for a persistent skin owie that turns out to be . . . let me get the spelling right, so you all can Google it . . . Cuterebra.*
urp
*DO NOT GOOGLE THIS
If you actually sit down and start to think about how much of a freaking horror show nature is, it makes you never want to go outside your house again…
You’re not the boss of me!
.
.
.
EWWWWW!
The one thing making me pause in my desire to move somewhere that actually has water and green things growing is the knowledge that all kinds of nasty stuff love standing water. Worst thing I have to fear in the middle of Phoenix is ants.
This one is actually an easy fix. Get yourself a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting and carry it with you everywhere. Read it with a worried expression on your face and mutter things like “I’ll never remember all this.” Also, whenever you move from sitting to standing or vice versa, say “oof” and brace your back with your free hand.
For extra verisimilitude, treat yourself to lots of random, violent mood swings and then apologize tearfully, saying, “these hormones are driving me crazy.”
Also: invest in a t-shirt that says “Baby on Board.” It is, after all, the stupid and clueless you’re trying to inform, so why not make things easy for them?
I was thinking more about the one that just says ‘Baby’ with an arrow pointing downward.
Maybe start carrying a little knitting bag with an obviously pastel little something hanging out the top?
Or maybe just one of those sweet tops that are gathered from the yoke. Ruffles might help the message. Or a teddy bear on the pocket.
Please don’t hurt me.
“I’m with Stupid” and an arrow pointing down. 
What a day! :x
Cuterebra are anything but cute. They’re sort of fascinating in a disgusting kind of way though.
I try to carry preggo books and stuff but it is a fine line to walk between getting a seat on the bus vs. strangers molesting your stomach.
There are some things that are worse than standing up for a while and a ruffled, teddy bear adorned shirt is one of them.
We could totally make a line of really inappropriate maternity tops! They could say things like “My vagina is an exit” or “Instead of hiring an O.B. my husband bought a catcher’s mitt.”
I googled it. At work. God only knows what IT must think of me if they ever bother to follow my browser history.
“No, I’m not pissing myself, my water just broke.”
“Pregnancy makes me all stabby.”
“No, I’m not pregnant. It’s an inoperable tumor. Thanks for reminding me of it, asshole!”
“My Daddy loves me more than your Daddy… see?”
I gave them the benefit of the doubt partially because this particular grocery chain has a habit of hiring mentally challenged folks to be baggers. Not having formed any sort of regular bagger-customer relationship with this person, I can’t tell you if they’ve been medically declared to be mentally deficient or not…
I agree with thirdwarning and Chef Troy: you may need a visual “I’m pregnant” clue-by-four to get the message across. You live in NYC, right? Why not respond to any rude comments you get from fat haters with “I’m very pregnant and need the accommodation”? Though I really hate to do it, I occasionally engage in these types of social correction.
Speaking of social correction and grocery stores: a few weeks back, I’m in another grocery store, unloading my full cart. An older woman comes behind me and starts unloading her cart before I’m finished. I have no room, so I moved a couple of her things back so that I could put the rest of my stuff on the conveyor belt. She snarks with “do you have enough room?” in a nasty tone, and my response? “Yes. Wait your turn before you start unloading next time.” I do believe me changing from a friendly chat with the cashier while unloading to the Teacher Voice[sup]TM[/sup] shocked both parties. I may have been mean about it, but really, sometimes one needs to fight rudeness with a little pointed social correction.
Some fucker stole my bike last night which I found out to my extreme disappointment when I went to grab it to go to work and found just the bike lock sliced neatly in two. So instead of having a leisurely 15 minute bike ride to get to my new job 10 minutes early, I had a frustrating half hour walk that made me late by ten minutes. If I ever find you, bike thief, I’m going to kick you in the cock.
An invitation to my next electrified genius marshmallow roast?
They actually knocked out my internet service. Not the worst situation, I admit, but it peeves me that they’re the ones that fucked up and, since I didn’t know what the problem was, I’m the one that had to spend 45 minutes with tech support and I’m the one who had to spend half my Sunday waiting for a technician, who fortunately spotted the problem fairly quickly. If they’d just knocked or left a note at the door I could have spent five minutes on the phone and gone about my business.
One of these days, I’m going to learn to listen to this advice.
To quote a great philosopher: Damn Nature! You scary!
Black mold in my apartment AC making me sick this weekend. Very pitworthy.
Lived here 2.5 years, so have used it three summers.
About a month ago I noticed it smelling dusty so I checked it out and cleaned a small amount of black mold out of the grill on the front. Last week it started smelling dustier and dustier. There was some dust in the filter, so I figured that was it. Nope. Saturday night I suddenly felt dizzy and sweating like mad. Sunday it was worse. I got up on a stool and checked the thing out and could not believe it. Tore it as much apart as I could and went at it with an old toothbrush and a can of Lysol.
Today when I first turned it on (turn it off at night because it has been cool enough) I got a face full of “dusty” smell and my lungs burned.
Spray bottle, BLEACH. Hosed that motherfucker down front and back, inside and out.
TWICE.
FUCKITTY FUCK FUCK FUCK.
Looking forward to the end of AC season.
If I’m still here next summer, I’ll douse it severely before I ever use it.
Well, we aren’t supposed to even hit 60F on Wednesday, so…
You’re welcome 
Migraine on Sunday. Started off with weird distortion in words, unable to read things in front of me. Progressed through to the entirity of my left field of vision filled with strobing, flashy goodness and peripheral vision completely shot.
Painkillers, hot shower, hot tea, bed. Slept for most of the afternoon. Woke up at 2030, too restless to go back to sleep, up until after midnight.
Sleep through alarm next morning. Wake up feeling pukey. Call work, back to bed. Get up again at 10-ish, spend entire day feeling headachy and body achy and generally lousy.
Bed at 2300. Up when alarm goes off at 0545. Entire day unable to focus or concentrate. Head doesn’t hurt, but who the fuck am I? What am I supposed to be doing? What did I walk in here for?
The next time someone trills “Oh I have a migraine” and puts a hand to their forehead before going back to work, I’m going to punch them in the carotid artery. Three days I’ve been unable to operate at full capacity. Three. Fucking. Days.
You need a new one of those, not to reuse the contaminated one. :eek: