the worst show on tv

I don't like scary movies. I don't like ghosts or murderers, and I really hate invisible people. But I think the absolute most terrifying thing on television is I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. I hate it, and sometimes I watch it. I think I'm equally intrigued by the bizarre plot lines and the reenactment format. It's like some really boring improv exercise where one person describes eating a lot of green apples and throwing up while someone who looks kind of like her acts it out.

So, it's scary because you can be pregnant and not know it until a baby comes ripping out of you even if you are skinny and have your period and never want to eat pickles and ice cream together. (But, seriously, if you've been having a lot of back pain and have been wanting to eat a lot of tacos, you should probably see your doctor before you reach down to find a person coming out of your crotch. That is what I learned from The Learning Channel.)

But the scariest part would be the explaining. Like, what if you were at brunch with your friend and you just thought you had to poop but then you had a baby in a public restroom and had to explain to your friend where you got that gross naked baby. And then you'd have to call your parents, who might be upset but would probably just be confused. And then you'd have to pretend that everything was normal and put some pictures on facebook and pretend that, oh, everyone just wasn't paying attention, you were pregnant all along, and of course you didn't have a baby at brunch and think it was a poop.

TLC, I did not need another thing to worry about. I should put a lock on that show, except I don't know how to work my television. (Three remotes!)


look for it on netflix

I had insisted. It was the solstice, meant to be enjoyed outdoors. He brought his glass of wine and I'd brought my bowl of blueberries, feeding him every third or fourth one in what probably should have been an embarrassing way. If I wasn't over that by now.

Little kids were running around on the roof, babbling nonsense, and someone somewhere was smoking pot. How do you know when kids get a contact high if they act like this all the time?

The sun went down on the longest day of the year, the day's heat coming from below now, oozing back out from the concrete and metal. He kissed me. Then he kissed me for real.

And. . . fireworks. Big, literal, professional fireworks. Directly in front of us, perfectly timed.

Writing is hard, these days. We both feel it now that we're in the part of the romantic comedy that happens after the credits roll. But fireworks? The sequel to our first movie is straight to video.



metaphors everywhere

i was standing there holding a box and a box cutter. and when i cut my hand on the box, i thought, i wonder if this is a metaphor for my life?



and. . . that's how you know

We were close, you know. We shared our secrets and our dreams. I thought, this is how it will be to love someone forever. I thought I knew everything about him. I didn't really know what was left.

And then we got a stomach virus.



they probably do make star wars crib bumpers

"They'd just be so nerdy."
"I'm actually afraid if they aren't, we won't be able to connect with them. I feel like if we had a baby, we should hang an embroidered sampler over it's crib -- 'Don't worry. I'm pretty sure you'll grow out of it.'"
"Or 'There's still time. No one wants to peak in high school.'"

I love him, but if you'd seen our third grade school photos, you'd be worried about our hypothetical children, too.