I've seen it all. I was here first.

Throwing up certainly tops my list of things I loathe. I toss my cookies and start to whimper and become very melancholy. When it comes to throwing up (and you'd think I'd be a pro by now...I threw up ten times more when I WASN'T pregnant), I do NOT know how to suck it up, man up, what have you. I'm a puss when my insides end up on the outside.

Did I mention that I'm sick?

I don't think this is any late-in-the-game morning sickness creeping in. I thought I had food poisoning on Thursday night/Friday morning but it wore away, at quesadilla-induced food poisoning tends to do. So I think I just pushed myself too hard this weekend and am paying for it now. The downside to a little too much sun-n-fun, if you will. But luckily, I already had a check-up scheduled for today...it's always good to double check the baby machine. I like to be on top of things. You can make that dirty if you want.

Speaking of sun-n-fun, this weekend really was solid. Thank sweet zombie Jesus for Todd's schedule change. We actually got to spend some time being goofy together, outside of our steak-n-movie date. We went to the zoo one day which was pretty fun, even if we didn't see any wolves, and pool-hopped the next. Good, clean, American holiday fun. Or something like that.

Missed Heavy Rebel for the 3rd year in a row but not many people I knew made the trek. I think the allure is starting to wear off a bit for a lot of people. But man oh man, there's nothing like a Saturday night at Heavy Rebel! I have some phenomenal memories of those Saturday night. Phenomenal and blurred. Anyway, I'm not complaining because I had fun celebrating Independence Day the way we did. Low-key, lotsa fun.

Capgun Cowboys reunion show on Friday. MUST attend. MUST!

And MUST find a way to stop songs from being stuck in my head!

So I start a revolution from my bed.

I've rejoined the land of the living, if only in body. And the body part is pretty shaky. My mind is mush, like unused muscle. Everything aches and every breath feels like I'm standing in the frozen tundra attempting to enjoy fresh air. It's not refreshing. It's more akin to having my lungs grated.

But, even for me, there is only so much TV and napping one can do.

Spencer seems relatively unaffected by all this pneumonia/ear infection nonsense. And due to a week of doing nothing (and I mean NOTHING), I am really in tune with his movements. And we had a (one-sided) discussion about how awesome ice-cream is. So if I get nothing out of this horrific experience, at least I got some bonding time with my squirmy unborn...and Todd got an in utero high five. Awesome.

But that's where the awesomeness ends. I can honestly say that this is probably one of the worst illnesses I've had in the past 5 years or so. I just have to suck it up and keep on trucking. Pneumonia tends to hang on for awhile and I should know...this might be the 8th or 9th time my lungs have been ravaged. I'll have to sit down and really due the count sometime.

But for now...

Happy Birthday to my AWESOME MOM!!!!!!!

And Happy Birthday to my fav, Lady Gaga!

You're the fastest runner but you're not allowed to win.

Happy 32nd Birthday, bestie.

Monday was one of the most exciting days of my life as we found out we're having a son!!! But shortly after, I found out I was getting sick. We bought the little guy his first piggy bank (chrome!!) and BOOM!

Pneumonia and an ear infection.

I haven't been to work since Monday morning (which causes me stress...but eventually, I'll be gone for 8 - 10 weeks so they need to learn my gig) and I've barely been out of this bed besides to hit the doctor and then set $137 dollars on fire for prescriptions. I feel scummy, inside out.

But I've gotten to spend some time with my little man, feeling his every move. I like to think that his wriggles after I cough are meant to be comforting and his squirms after hearing Hall and Oates (Todd called when they came on the radio) meant he digs them. This is how I'm entertaining myself so I don't bawl about how much pain I'm in.

I know this isn't supposed to be the blog where I blather about my pregnancy but I am DAMN PUMPED. I always assumed I would want a girl but my heart did flips when we found out we were having a son. I love little boys (do not make that creepy) and little boys love their mothers. I'm swooning!

I'm also dying. It sure would be nice to breathe.

Back to bed.

Oh, Antonia, you were ROBBED!

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And when she wakes up and makes up her miiiiiiiiiiind...

Additional info: 3 years ago today, I woke up with Todd in my bed for the first time. I (partially and fuzzily) remember it like it was yesterday.

I won't eat the ends. Not bread. Not bakery. Don't ask me to.

I'm trapped in Sick City and everything around me is hazy, kind of like "Yellow Submarine", 1960s type artwork that I despise. Too bright. Too hippie. I just want to put my hood up and sulk. I'm worried the little monster is having his/her way with my blood pressure again. Monster is GROUNDED. Everyone is grounded.

Paying bills relaxes me. Is that sick? I look forward to it every Wednesday.

Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. I am actually Irish, as is my husband and our unborn.

Things I LOVE about being Irish/the Irish/St. Patrick's Day = soda bread, whiskey and green beer, potato soup, Conan O'Brien, the abundance of green (holla, green Converse), PJ McIntyre's and their bartenders, Liam Neeson, shamrocks and shamrock shakes, hanging w/my family, bagpipes and U2.

Things I HATE about being Irish/the Irish/St. Patrick's Day = drunk hooch girls and choch guys as far as the eye can see, The Pogues and almost all Irish music, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Colin Farrell, Guinness (unless I'm already warmed up), corn beef, Leprechauns, Celtic tattoos, the Irish Curse (red cheeks when drinking), bagpipes and U2.

"Uptown Girl" is a great song. You can't tell me otherwise. And with that...

A COUNTDOWN
5 days until we know...boy or girl.
10 days until our Columbus weekend roadtrip.
17 days until I'm half way done cooking.
36 days until we leave for NYC.
73 days until the third trimester.
157 days until little monster is scheduled to appear.

Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you.

I had three nose bleeds yesterday. It was a total horror show. Bright red, clotty nastiness all over my face and running down my throat. Not what one would call glamorous, by any means. The volcanic eruption that occurred on my mug was followed by a mind-numbing, skull-crunching headache that made it difficult to focus. I was fairly certain I was going to stroke out but I survived.

Lived to bleed another day!

So another snow storm is heading this way, postponing further my dreams of wearing flip flops and listening to "I'm Easy" by Brendan Benson with the windows rolled down. That groundhog was a liar. He should get a nosebleed.

...

I actually feel bad for saying that. Yesterday I watched an adorable video of a Slow Loris with a paper parasol (a.k.a. drink umbrella) and was so irritated by this guy repeatedly taking the umbrella away from the Loris just to watch him grad for it again. He also tickled the Loris' armpits to make him raise the umbrella in the air. Just let the fuzzy little dude nap under his parasol and take a hike! Moving on.

Snow storm most likely means I'll be barricaded inside Castle Grayskull for the weekend, which is OK. I've been dying to do some painting and Todd and I have a Stephen King movie marathon scheduled for Saturday night. Movie marathons are perfect for snowy days. But I'm really hoping to make it out to the 5 O'Clock tomorrow to see a buncha one-man/woman bands and a buncha pals that I miss. I refuse to be weather's bitch.

Hot cocoa, cupcake, Swedish Fish and GOOD MORNING!

Oh, I won't sleep tonight.

Aching all over. Chills. Pounding head. Stiff neck. Yep, I'm sick. Happy Holidays to moi. Illness makes me French. So I'm knee-deep in season 2 of Gilmore Girls, buried under a pile of blankets with my hood up and a serious case of ennui.

My X-Mas Eve outfit is laid out (and adorable) and I'm putting off gathering X-Mas day steaks until mañana (now I'm Spanish). So for the rest of the day/night, consider me a zombie.

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I wish I could carry your smile in my heart for times when my life seems so low.

Sex and the City 2 was the most embarrassing movie I've ever watched. More so than Boy In the Plastic Bubble with John Travolta. I watched it alone and was still humiliated. Those ladies are getting too old for their shenanigans. They were probably too old years ago. Man, who do I call to get those hours of my life back?

And while we're at it, I want my long weekend back, too.

Turkey Day was a great success since I met my goal of  eating too much gravy and feeling uber-slothlike. The move from chair to couch took almost all my effort. It was good to spend time with my extended family, but it never fails that I leave family functions feelings semi-lousy.

On Black Friday, after a very positive phone call from my doc, we packed up the car and took the kid and a pal to a resort in the Pennsylvania Mountains. There were a lot of issues there and they'll be getting a pretty strongly worded letter from us. But the kids didn't notice anything so in their eyes, it was a boatload of fun.

Not so fun? Having to pull over twice on the way home Saturday to toss my cookies at the Travel Plaza and Sheetz, respectively. Haven't gotten car sick in a while (Todd thinks I'm preggo but I'm not putting any money on that). It really wrecked Cookie Day, a family tradition. Every time I thought I felt better, I bottomed out again. And my feelings took a few hits that day but I don't want to talk about that. SHOCKING! After getting home from my parents house, my guts emptied out and I was down for the count. A little 30 Rock with Todd and bed. We'll mark that day "a wash".

Yesterday was another wash even though I did get to have crepes for breakfast. The dudes went to the Browns game so I was on my own. Bought an X-Mas tree that turned out to be ridiculous so it's getting returned, but managed to get some other nonsense to make the house look festive. Got that swishy carsick feeling again (while driving, which is odd but happens because my body is an anomoly) and parked it on the couch. Sex and the City 2 (thumbs down) and The Back-Up Plan (thumbs up) helped numb my brain.

Numbed it right into a coma.

And now it's time to get in the holiday spirit. First X-Mas in our new home. I hope I can dig deep into my rotten soul and get into it, because I WANT to be into it, I do. I just have to find a way to get there this year. It'll happen. I have faith. I don't have an X-Mas tree, but I have faith!

They say you're getting better but you don't feel any better.

Everything aches from the inside out. I'm sick but what else is new? This battle with my body doesn't get any easier, even now that I know what's kicking my immune system to the floor. It's getting harder and harder to just push through. I feel like a failure for getting sick. And this is NOTHING compared to what other people I know are going through.

"I've never met anyone more prone to life-threatening idiocy than you" - Alice Cullen

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You can speak your mind but not on my time.

As I quickly blathered earlier this week, I am diving head first...and awkwardly, no doubt, because I cannot dive...back into painting. Not just PAINTING. I'm throwing myself back into art and I have every intention of trying some new things. I have a RAD art room at Castle Grayskull and I need to take advantage of it. And I plan to go ballllllls out this weekend.

So OF COURSE, I started a blog dedicated specifically to my art. Every finished piece that will be for sale will end up there. And there will be some other fun schtuff related to my hobby on the page. Besides my husband and my pals, art is my favorite thing on the planet! I may not be talented, I may not even be creative, but it makes me HAP-PY.

Become a follower for updates. You don't need to belong to Blogger to do so.

CANNIBALICIOUS!

But regarding THIS blog, someone found it by searching "morning breath fetish". Yelp. What have I been talking about for the past 5 years???

And regarding my life, I've been sick for a week now. It's just a sniffling, sneezing, coughing cold but it's annoying. It didn't hold me back from going to see Bouncing Souls open for Bad Religion. Bouncing Souls were relatively boring. Good but dull. Then Bad Religion blew my miiiiind! It was everything I hoped it would be. Until some broad with a mohawk started shit with me...after I casually called her the C word, which is reserved for total trash bags.

By the end of the verbal spar, she was apologizing and telling me I was right. Fucking fool.

I'm beginning to think I'm too old for this shit, especially when it gets you invited to the back for a fist fight, but that's OK. Because what's fun about being stuffed into a small space like sardines and dealing with drunk bums and trash who think they own the world? The next day, we spent time with the Shoelanes, talking, drinking, laughing and THAT was where I was comfortable. That was a good time for me...for us. But Bad Religion WAS amazing. Next time, I need to hang in the back rather than getting in the thick of it.

The thickness is where fisticuffs happen.

So tonight is Deadbolt...which is a totally different situation. Different people, different crowd. I want to go and support my twin, Alex, since COTPF is opening. And I know Weasel really wants to give Deadbolt a second chance as far as their live show goes. But my nose is currently a faucet. I need to try and get some shut-eye and she if I can self-repair. Though a night at home sounds pretty rad...