We'll exhale. We'll high five. We will know at last how good it feels to be alive!

Join Us.

At first I was terribly disappointed and distressed but like most things, the new They Might Be Giants CD has grown on me like a strange fungus or extra appendage. The reason they have managed to remain my favorite band since 1990 is that they are who they are. You know it's a They Might Be Giants song upon first listen. and you have no choice but to respect the quirk. They don't try to be who they're not. They're just naturally awesome. So if you've picked up this album and are on the fence about it, give it time. Let your extra limbs develop!

My tickets have been secured for their Cleveland show. You might think, "But that's only 4 weeks after your supposed to give birth! It's irresponsible for you to be going to see a band!" I was kind of thinking the same thing...or at least I was slightly worried I'd be given the shit stick. So I didn't even bring up going. It was my fantastic hubby's idea. He said, "Who is going to the show with you? Your sister?" I questioned him about not minding if I went and he said he assumed I'd be going since they're my favorites and he'd happily spend the evening with Spencer. It didn't take any more arm twisting.

So the set list better blow MINDS since I'm leaving my 4 week old buddy!!

Speaking of blowing minds...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHEE-BIZZLE!!!

This is YOUR day! And I hope that it's awesome from the minute you wake up until the minute you fall into bed. And when you DO fall into bed, I hope it's either nakedly with your husband OR in a drunken stupor from too much fun. It's been many moons since I've seen a drunk Phoebe. Or a naked one for that matter. I can't wait to celebrate your 36 years at the Renaissance Faire on Sunday (I told Spencer he MUST stay in his cushy waterbed until AFTER said Faire). I haven't spent nearly enough time with you this year which is a bummer but I have boatloads of good memories to tide me over between hangouts. So HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS, MISERY GUTS!!!! xoxoxoxoxoxo

Anything else I need to blather on about on this fine morning?

Um, my contractions are all over the map (an hour and half, 5 minutes, 5 minutes, 41 minutes, 4 hours). And I don't really care that Amy Whinehouse is dead, even is that sounds cold. I didn't personally know her and if you mess with meth, what do you expect? Oh, and congratulations to Little Erin and Wolfboy Slim on their news. RAD!

I guess that's all I've got.