Ho hum, I drum.

Sweet jesus motherfucking christ, did it hurt. No huffing and puffing and blowing could alleviate the ohmygodareyoufuckingkiddingmeimgonnadieforsureshitshitshit pain that is active labor.

April 19, 2009. 7:17 pm.

But hey, I love Dryst to smithereens. Asdrid will have to wait, though. Sorry, ragamuffin.

For the past year, I have developed this unnatural habit of counting in my head whenever something pisses me off. Count, deep breath, count, release, count. It’s supposed to, I don’t know, calm you down, I guess. But it doesn’t calm you down. Well, me. It blows. It just sorta suppresses whatever it is that’s screwing with me, so that I can take it out again and turn it over in my head at a later time. But that blows again. Because you should feel it when you’re feeling it. It’s stupid trying to stay calm.

You know how you sometimes think up reasons for someone else when they’re doing something? Like, “Maybe he’s just blahblah” or “I bet she’s just really bitter, that’s why…” and so on. It’s like you try to convince yourself or some other person you’re conversing with that there’s a more mellow, you know, side. You make up these excuses to cover up that gut feeling you have about something else. Something like, “You think maybe he’s really a murderer? No, bet he just really slipped and slit that old woman’s throat by accident, maybe a rubber duck or something very slippery was on the floor, and of course the exact same thing happened to the old woman’s husband.” But more often than not, it’s exactly what you were thinking originally.

Thing is, I’m running out of numbers to count.

Things to do when your girlfriend/wife’s expecting: (No explanations needed. Hell, you got her pregnant, didn’t you?)

1. Always, always offer to do it. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. If she says “I’m gonna cook dinner.” What do you say? No, not “About time.”

“I’ll do it.” There. If she says, “No, I’ll do it.” always, ALWAYS offer a second time. Even if you know she’s gonna end up doing it, either because you didn’t really mean it when you offered to do it, or she really wants to do it herself, just offer a second time.

So let’s practice.

Pregnant Girlfriend/Wife: My slippers are in the cabinet. Wait up, I’ll just go get it.

Doting Boyfriend/Husband: Don’t be silly. You just sit there. I’ll go get it.

Pregnant Girlfriend/Wife: No, really. I can do it. I’m gonna get my bag too anyways.

Doting Boyfriend/Husband: Perfect. I’ll do that too. Which bag is it?

Easy, no? And with bit of frequency, it’ll actually sound more natural as time progresses.

No matter how easy it is, or how tired you are, just try and do it. You can always get back at her once the baby’s out.

2. Never ever talk about exes. Even if it’s just in passing, oh god almighty, don’t say anything. There is an exception, however. If you’re gonna talk about an ex, make sure it’s something along the lines of, “You’re waaaaay better than her. In fact, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me oh honey how have I ever lived without you let me kiss your feet and brush your hair and buy you clothes.”

3. Don’t say the F word. she’s healthy, yes. A little chubby, yes. She’s softened a bit, uh huh. But she’s not fat. No. NO. It’s cute when you mean it in an endearing way, like, you’re just teasing her and stuff, or you guys just really call each other “pig” or “hog” or “boar” or whatever, but don’t mean it mean it, okay?

Oh and by the way, timed stressing on certain words is always a bonus.

Two months.

Well, roughly two months.

Two months and my tummy’ll deflate and I’ll prolly be bitching and moaning three times as often as I have been doing lately.

Sometimes I still find it surreal, that I’m 7 months gone. It’s a very pleasant kind of surreal, though. Don’t get me wrong.

Just a few more months for to tote the weary load, no matter, ’twill never be light.

Ah, never you mind. I have never deemed my quoting skills even near passable. And besides, I personalized it. Anyone who can guess where that’s from without looking it up online gets a virtual pat on the back from me by default.

So anyway,  where was I. Ah, there. Two months.

On the rare occasions I think of what I’ll be doing with myself once Dryst is out, I find myself, well, a tad clueless, actually. I wonder why there are just people, like myself, who naturally suck at planning. We tend to want to wait until something happens before we find it possible to think of the corresponding actions that need to be taken. I do not like dwelling too much. So on those rare occasions, I end up thinking about what’s for dinner or something else equally important,. of course.

I haven’t really written or typed, for that matter, anything about myself, hell, about anything recently. So the abrupt transitions or lack thereof must be excused.

I have spaghetti waiting for me upstairs. Yay.

I can be good at DotA too, if I tried.

I mean, of course, if I put my mind to it, I can kill someone on my own, without having Peter John barking orders at me. I can, too. Hmph.

I mean, of course it’s normal that I seem to always forget what to buy, what to do, and how to do it every time I log in to GG. I’ve been doing this what, twenty plus times, and of course it’s but natural that I still can’t seem to find whichever hero I’m using when everyone sort of starts attacking each other. Of course there’s nothing wrong with randomly clicking and clicking all the creatures with their names in red, right? And hello, of course it’s perfectly understandable that I either always run away every time I see something walking that doesn’t resemble either a tree or an alien (see? not knowing what those little things clambering around just goes to show how vastly improved I am in the field of DotA) or go charge until I hear “Atras! Wag na. Uwi ka na.” Dying a lot of times in one game is all part of a strategic plan, of course, wherein I serve as the guinea to delude the enemies into thinking they are winning. See, I also exhibit dedication to whoever my teammates are.

I can be good at DotA too.

Screw that, I AM good.