Because I am tired/lazy/lacking inspiration/etc., I stole this from a fellow Seattleite, Pantless in Seattle. Please enjoy this Mama Bee-centric meme!
I am…super paranoid.
I think…about how much bigger I’m going to get in my final trimester. It’s actually a quite frightening prospect.
I should…eat better and clean my house. Domestic goddess I am not.
I dream…every night, but am incapable of letting go of reality and actually enjoying my dreams.
I want…to win the lottery, hire a chef/masseuse/maid/etc, oh, and be the best mother and wife I can be given that none of the above come naturally to me. Laziness, on the other hand? I’m a pro!
I know…how to paint (but I rarely get the chance to).
I don’t like…juevos rancheros, cooked tomatoes, and douche bags.
I smell…like L’Occitane.
I hear…the themes to Jungle Junction, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Special Agent Oso in my head almost constantly. Kill me now.
I fear…death, heights, clowns, douche bags and explosive poop.
I usually…waste my days online and my evening playing solitaire.
I search…for cute maternity clothes online only to discover that they either (1) don’t exist, or (2) don’t exist for under eight trillion dollars.
I miss…everybody. All the time. What can I say? I’m a social butterfly.
I always…swear. Really. It’s compulsive. Surprised?
I regret…friendships that have ended (even if I wasn’t at fault).
I wonder…how I got so lucky. I mean, seriously. I must’ve been Jesus or something in a past life because I’m pretty sure I haven’t done jack shit in this one to deserve my wonderful family and friends.
I crave…a big ass cocktail followed by some sushi and maybe a Xanax. Pretty much everything that is on that goddamn “Don’t Eat or Your Baby Will Come Out Looking Like a Potato” list you get from your ob/gyn.
I remember…having a memory once. That was nice. I think.
I need…to get my hurr did. And probably work out. But let’s be honest, in a pampering versus exercise Thunderdome, which do YOU think will win?
I forget…everything. All the time. Stupid pregnancy brain makes Jeopardy way less fun (especially when Mr. Bee thinks he is kicking my ass every night. YOU try answering questions while a fetus sucks out your
will to live brain cells!).
I feel…uncomfortable. My muscles are so tired that I’m pretty sure that I’d be much more comfortable if I just didn’t have arms anymore. I mean, arms are so overrated, right?
I can…shock and awe with my lack of a filter. Some call it verbal diarrhea. I call it delightful.
I can’t…handle hate. I also can’t move my toes independently of each other. But I find it totally creepy and freakish when people can, so I’m not too concerned.
I am happy…but have to remind myself to stop scowling and enjoy the moment.
I lose…my train of thought all the…what was I saying?
I sing…constantly. I like to sing what I’m doing to Bee kind of like Marshall on How I Met Your Mother. It makes the day much more fun. I would also sing loudly in the car, but Bee usually yells at me to quiet down. That definitely helps one’s self-esteem.
I listen…to only happy music. Ballads kind of bum me out.
I shop…too much. But, sweet baby Jesus, it’s fun. AND I only shop clearance and outlet stores so it could be worse (or so I tell Mr. Bee).
I eat…all day. I’m kind of like a grazing cow except I don’t regurgitate my food. Usually.
I love…writing more than I ever thought I would. Now if I could only shake this pregnancy-long writer’s block, we’d be set!
Song title: Let’s Talk About Me by Alan Parsons