Omar comin', yo!

Couple things real quick:

1) Public service announcement: "We" are not pregnant. "We" may be expecting, but "we" are not pregnant (unless "we" are two or more females who both are currently gestating at least one fetus each in her own uterus).

2) Public service announcement #2: Fuck candles or books or even wine -- you know what is a really, super, ace host/ess gift for when you have stayed in someone's home for more than a couple of days? Cleaning the shower before you leave. Including, you know, the drain area.

Fastest-growing non-poultry, non-coffee franchise in the whole of Southern California.

Three Business Names That Ought Not To Be, And Why Not:

Nothing Bundt Cakes: First, I hate puns. I think this is a pun, yeah? Secondly, in the attempt to be cute, you inadvertently (one hopes) denigrate your own product. Plus, it sounds stupid when you say it. So I won't. And I won't go there.

Buy Buy Baby: Wow, off-putting. I know the BIC (baby-industrial complex) exists to make expectant parents buy a whole bunch of shit they most likely don't need, but my god, the nakedness of it in this store's name! There's one near my new house, so me and the kid went to check it out ... hoo-faaaaaah. No es necesario.

Souper Crackers: Fictional -- and [spoiler alert!] as it turns out, non-viable, but still hilariously awful. Y'all really should watch that clip in the link -- why Shatner WHY did this show get canceled? There is no justice!

I ride this train regularly! Twice a week! So I suppose I've SOME rights!

Three things for y'all today:

1) Somebody should develop an iPhone app sorta like Shazam for finding out what language people are speaking. These three incredibly & naturally good-looking* tall young people dropped into the four-seat across the aisle from me on the train this morning, and spent the whole time talking to each other in a language I could not recognize. I think it might have been Dutch -- sort of vaguely German-ey (but not guttural), lilting (but not South-African-ey), not many distinguishable diphthongs, no rolled consonants. I wanted to know, and I could not ask -- I'm always afraid I'm going to sound like the worst most hickish rube of all time if I ask, like no matter what words I actually say it'll sound like "HEY GOLLLEEEE WHERE'S Y'ALL FROM?" So get on it, app developers of the world.

2) I wish there were a way to de-frag the human brain, deleting old files as you go, because there is apparently a readily-accessible segment in mine which holds the entire lyrics to the crappy-90s-Aerosmith songs "Crazy" AND "Cryin," along with a pretty reliably complete track of the video of the former (way to cast your teenage daughter in super-hot sexy stuff there, Steve -- ace parenting decision, good sir!). Although had I deleted that segment long ago, as would have been proper, I would not have come up with the oft-used tag "cryin' amazacrazy," itself a ripoff of a long-ago SNL bit that ran a bunch of crappy-90s-Aerosmith songs together thusly ... so, I dunno, maybe the real estate is worth it after all. I can never stand to delete real files on my actual computers, either.

3) Three books that just now made it onto my Amazon wishlist:

This Common Secret
Our Man in Havana
Dear Angela: Remembering My So-Called Life


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*As opposed to enhanced and/or professional -- you know how you can always tell when a person makes his or her living off of his or her looks? They weren't like that. They were like people who would live in Eden. Give them green contacts and they would be great as Crakers in the movie of the MaddAddam trilogy.

That John Denver's fulla shit!

Possible Originations of the Source of the Ringing of the iPhone at 3:40 a.m. Sunday

--Robocall/spam

--butt-dial

--insomniac or new parent on the East Coast

--the Better Homes and Gardens $25,000 prize winner notification

--my Kansass friends, wanting to settle a bar bet

--someone on vacation in Hawaii, having miscalculated the time difference, wanting to know the name of that awesome fish place because they want to go there tomorrow

--solar flare

--poltergeist

--Steve Jobs, checking things out (he's a detail guy)

Where My Mind Went, With an Intractable Force that Compelled Me to Get Out of Bed to Go Downstairs to Check the Fucking Thing Because I Can't Sleep Until I Do

--My sister, calling with bad tidings of yet another family illness or death

What It Actually Was
--Your flight to Bumblefuck was cancelled. Here's when the next one is: Two days from now. Go fuck yourself.

Jackal Onassis after-party

Listen here: If you have white-boy dreds and you describe your occupation as "Infiltrator," then son, you got some growing up to do.

A most fascinating post for all of you, I'm sure.

And but so the thing is, I am maybe beginning to understand about why all the damn black maternity clothing from last time around. It's because THERE ISN'T ANYTHING ELSE. At least not anything else that doesn't scoop almost to the band of my super-attractive Pregnant Lady Bras, that is -- and listen. I have big tatas during the normal unpregnant years. I have learned a thing or seven about what deep scoop neck and V-neck blouses look like on me, as compared to what they look like on your A's, B's, and even C's -- I look like I am about to ask you if you're lookin for a date, honey? is what. And this is in stuff from, like, Lands' End. Forget the younger, trendier stuff. I do not want the gals up and out there like Lisa Goddamn Cuddy wears em, for chrissake. It is not a work-appropriate display, the top half of your ginormous rack. It is distracting and unprofessional and frankly quite chilly in the modern air-conditioned office environment. And nobody -- NOBODY -- sells a tank or tee that kind of goes straight across the chest -- like, say, a boatneck or relaxed crew -- instead of dipping down to show off Nature's Great Abundance And the Miracle Of Life. Except the ones I've already got ... which are black. So yeah, lotta black this time around too.