Does this silver lining make my butt look big?

So the baby nazi showed up this morning. Not unexpected. I mean, it never is. But it's usually a bit more like rain on your wedding day, the black fly in my Chardonnay. You know, not ironic. Annoying. Irritating. Downright angering. (Sorry Alanis. Gotta call 'em like I see 'em). And for the record, it totally rained on my wedding day. My mom says that's good luck. And cited her own wedding day as proof. Have I mentioned my mom is on marriage number 2? And it didn't rain at the wedding I was around to attend. Should totally have rained on that wedding day. (assuming we're proving the happy thing theory.)

I digress. Baby Nazi reared it's ugly head this morning. But you know, it's ok. I'm actually happy about it. Well, "happy" is a strong word. I'm somewhere between annoyed and not ready to beat someone. In fact, I didn't have the urge to shoot anyone and I managed to make it all the way home without flipping anyone off. Oh, and I didn't even compose any nasty emails today. (Lots of ++ Karma points!) Go me! Ok, I'm not really an angry person. No, really. I'm so not. I'm pissy. And snarky. And sometimes I'm forced to smack some sense into people. But angry? Not really. I'm expressive. Sometimes, I'm loudly expressive. But I'm a lover. Make love, not war and all that jazz (Raise your hand if you're now singing the soundtrack to Chicago in your head. **raises hand**) Hi, I dance in the grocery store. I'm so not an angry person. Wow this is a tad tangental. I know. You're shocked. I'm generally so on point.

Ok, so baby nazi. Why am I not (insert emotion here)? I had a meeting with the fatty clinic today. And I commented that I have to lose 19 lbs to start IVF again. And the doctor said "Oh you'll do that in 3 weeks on this program." **blank stare** Fatty say what? THREE WEEKS?? What are they going to do? Cut off a leg? Not that I'd object. The left one's been nothing but a pain lately anyway. And if you cut off one bad limb, it'll be a good message for the others: fly straight or you could be next. So take the leg. Of course, that would put a damper on dancing in the grocery store. And I can't give up an arm....what would I use when talk? I need both hands. Ok, I'll part with 2 toes, 1 finger, and an ear. Me and Van Gough. Only I'm cuter. And have long hair (you know, to cover the missing ear. But I do think the hair helps in the cuteness factor.). And none of that tortured artist angst. I will, however, have both legs and 19 fewer pounds.

So I'm beyond excited. No, mom and all my weight watcher lovers, I don't actually expect to lose 19 pounds in three weeks. But just the idea that they (oh.."they"...there's that nameless mob....weird how I trust them now, but not when it comes to honey vs. vinegar for fly catching) say it could happen gives me hope I haven't had in a long time. I think, for the first time in 2 years, weight loss is actually more important to me than having a baby! Who am I? Did mirror girl finally take over? Doubt it. Though, she's been making more of an appearance lately. I'm rockin a new 'do. And I do have to say, I'm adorable. If I were single, I'd take me home. Even if I was sober when I met me.

And now from the "are you KIDDING me?!" files. I found this snippet in an article in a major national magazine. Another sad addiction of mine. Magazines. I have subscriptions to at least 10. And I probably buy another 3 or 4 a week. As long as the price of magazines doesn't multiply as quickly as the Duggars like gas prices have, I'll be fine. Ok, but the article. Was about the new Sex and the City movie. Question "Can an infertile woman over 40 get pregnant?" Answer: "It isn't that far-fetched that...would get pregnant after adopting....it helps when a woman doesn't stress about conceiving." Sigh. I have no words. When will this myth be dispelled? Here. I'll make it simple. The odds of an infertile woman, who has not conceived on her own before, getting knocked up after adopting are roughly the same as Jen and Brad getting back together. (A girl can hope. But shouldn't hold her breath.) Also, relaxing, not stressing, deep, cleansing breaths, whatever... is not, I repeat NOT, going to magically make my missing fallopian tube reappear. Spread the word.

Also from the files: bacon ice cream? Do I really need to explain? Richard, Richard, Richard. What are you thinking? (Top Chef watchers UNITE!) Plus, stop whining. Stephanie has great hair. And you have a fauxhawk. You can't win with bad hair. It's TV! Big pink puffy love to my girl (and Top Chef winner!) Stephanie.

Speaking of Top Chef. I am kind of sad that I won't be able to cook anymore after the 23rd. At least not for a while. I love to cook. It's like therapy. Only not as therapeutic. And yummier. And if I can't cook, how can I flaunt my newly discovered skill? Cleaning and cooking a goose. (http://www.straightdope.com/mailbag/mgoose.html) This is a priceless skill. And also a fair representation of the types of articles the HG sends me. Does this say more about me or him? And what, exactly does it say? But props to The Straight Dope for hooking me up with goose cooking instructions. I have got to find a Tiny Tim so I can cook Christmas Goose. Or squirrel (if you read the article, you'd be laughing right now....).

And if you're going to laugh, you might was well laugh at this:
Those are yellow crocks. On a man. And I think he may have shaved his legs. On the list of things a man should not wear, yellow crocks is at the top. Or at least it should be. Followed by skinny jeans. Even if you're one of the Jonas Brothers (gag. If you don't know who they are, consider yourself lucky. They're like New Kids on the Block. Only not as cute, well dressed, or talented. Yeah.)

My niece is so going to disown me for that Jonas Brother's crack.