I just wrote a really long post about how I felt nauseous and then threw up yesterday, but deleted it because I forgot you’re not my mom and don’t want to hear every gory detail. But I will tell you this: throwing up behind a green adirondack chair in your own backyard is a very interesting experience, especially when the dog is all whatcha doin? and after it’s over and you are wiping your eyes, you hear the telltale sign of leaves crunching in your next door neighbor’s yard. Oh hi! Just having a little puke right here by our shared fence. Can I, um, borrow a cup of sugar?

Have you ever actually borrowed a cup of sugar from a neighbor? I attempted to borrow an egg from various neighbors a few years ago and it was a very embarrassing experience, especially when I knocked on the door of the townhouse across the street where the college kids live, and discovered that THEY HAD A POT-BELLIED PIG AS A PET. And then one day it escaped and Larry put it in our yard, the very yard where three years later I would vomit.

It’s the circle of life. Don’t you love NaBloPoMo?

Thank you for weighing in on the great coffee table debate; I am now convinced that that’s not the coffee table for me, but it wasn’t the fingerprint issue. I will tell you what one comment turned the tide for me: the comment that said it looks cheap in person. Done! I was done right then. Larry is now looking for coffee tables online, and has one he really likes, but the corners look exceptionally pointy and we have a cute baby whose face I would like to preserve. So we’ll see. Anyway, thanks again — I can only hope that you all have as strong opinions about the election today as you do about my coffee table choices.

Speaking of the election, I don’t think I have to say “hey you should go vote today”; I think anyone reading this blog probably votes regularly. I care more about the fact that you should go on and vote than I do about who you’re voting for. Unlike SOME SECRETARIES OF STATE (I’m talking to you, Delbert “oh p.s. those voter registration forms you all mailed in? they needed a 72-cent stamp, silly me for not telling you so before” Hosemann), I want every vote to count, not just those votes going toward the dude I want to win. So go vote for John McCain if you really want to! But if you’re a human being, you should probably vote for Obama. Just saying.

As I was walking into my polling place this morning I was thinking about the last two elections and how I had to cry the next day both times. The reason I cried was not because George W. Bush won (or “won”), but because in their concession speeches, both Democratic candidates left their robotic rhetoric behind and became humans. Sad, deflated humans, but humans nonetheless. The difference this year is that Obama has already shown that he is a human, a real, live human with feelings and emotions, and while he is so very cool — the coolest, in fact — I do not doubt that he cares about people. I feel like he’s a good man. I hope he’s our next president.

Oh, and ps:. Mrs. Floon’s sister-in-law saw this vanity tag — on a Mercury Cougar:
B3AV3R

Larry and I have been looking for a new coffee table for YEARS now. Literally, actual years have passed since our coffee table hunt began. Everything is either too expensive, or too clunky, or too dark, or too expensive (my recurring complaint). However, I have found a coffee table that I love. I actually love it! It’s this clear table from CB2. I love the fact that it’s clear: we have a colorful rug and lots of baby crap and this is one way to reduce the visual overstimulation/gobbledygook in the living room. Plus the price is not awful. However, Larry is not fond of it. He says clear acrylic = stripper heels. What say you, internet?

When I make meatballs, I usually use some of those Italian seasoned breadcrumbs. Apparently I’m out, so I had these choices for replacements:

a) use nothing
b) quick! toast some bread until it turns to rock and then crumble it
c) use a rolling pin to crunch up some croutons
d) use some disgusting, plastic-tasting panko

I went with c. We won’t be eating these meatballs until tomorrow, but whatcha think? Are these going to taste like ass, or is there a chance they will taste like they’re supposed to?

MSPICKY
HYMTNCE

Sometimes I wish I had lower standards just so the world could delight me more often. Today I brought some Halloween cupcakes to work and this one lady kept saying how beautiful they were. I saw her three times this morning and she just kept talking about them. Look, I did put some orange sugar and then some Halloween-themed sprinkles (tiny candy pumpkins and bats) on top, and they were kind of cute, but this lady went on and on. Maybe she was full of it. I don’t know, but it reminded me of my weird third cousin who is equally delighted with the world around her. I went to Picadilly with her once and the whole time she kept leaning over and saying to her mother, “Mama, this cornbread is so good!” and “You’ve just got to try this carrot and raisin salad*!” I found it fascinating and annoying at the same time — which is pretty much my favorite combination of elements.

*Who eats this? If you eat it and like it, will you leave a comment explaining why?

• STUBURN

• Yesterday I eavesdropped on this conversation:

Person 1: What do you think this letter is? An I or an L?
Person 2: (looks at paper, sees word “Monique” on it) Um. An I. What word would that be if it were M-O-N-L-Q-U-E?
Person 1: Oh, it would still be Monique. The L would just be silent.
Person 2: (silence)
Person 1: They’re spelling things different all the time these days.

Person: “When he tried to kiss me, he was on his way to being a homeless guy.”

I saw this tag today: 2ND BABY
What sort of car would you expect this to be on? I would’ve put my money on a Mustang had you asked me this, but no, this person’s second baby was the very hot Toyota Corolla. It reminded me of my old car. I used to drive a Chevy Cavalier — for YEARS I drove that thing, even though it was an embarrassing green color, that “hey, look at me! I’m sporty and fun and — oh GOD never mind I am just a Cavalier” green — and even though I am the sort of person who names her cars, it never had a name. A friend admired the way it could whip around without doing a three-point turn, and started calling it the Whipper, but it never caught on. The closest thing to a nickname was calling it “the Cav.” Anyway, my point is that it was not my baby, nor my second baby. Not even my thirteenth baby. However, I am happy that the owner of that Toyota Corolla is so pleased with her purchase.

Dear Undecided Voters,

HOW CAN YOU STILL BE UNDECIDED? Is it for the attention at this point? That is seriously the only reason I can think of. “I don’t like either one,” you say. THOSE ARE THE OPTIONS CHOOSE ONE FOR GOD’S SAKE. Do you stand in the toothpaste aisle, totally flummoxed by all the choices? Paste or gel? Tartar control or tartar-inviting? The blue kind with little glittery stuff in it or the plain, white kind? JESUS HELP ME THERE ARE TOO MANY OPTIONS.

Anyway, if you need some help figuring it out, let me know. I have some charts and stuff you could look at.

Love,
Sally

I have been watching AND LOVING this show on BBC America called You Are What You Eat. In each episode, a doctor storms some fat people’s house, pokes at their bellies, examines their tongues, analyzes their poo, shows them how many Twinkies and fish and chips and biscuits they eat per week by piling it all on a table — WAIT A MINUTE WHAT DID YOU SAY? She analyzes their poo. A quotation from an episode I watched yesterday: “It reminded me of glue.” While I was still reeling from this, a commercial came on for a one-hour docuspecial coming on in a few weeks: Brothers and Sisters in Love: “They know it’s wrong.” Oh, BBC America, you know what I like.

I’ve decided I don’t like panko.

Spike is sick. He’s got a nasty virus that apparently TAKES TWO WEEKS to run its course. Meaning that for two weeks Spike will not be in daycare (Larry and I will be taking turns staying home, and then we have some grandmothers coming to town to help out). He’s got an old man cough, a rattly wheeze, and a runny nose, but that mouth just keeps on yakking. Right now he’s rolling around on a quilt in the living room saying this: Rah rah rah rah da da da da ra ba ra! Whoever he’s talking to, look the hell out! Spike is serious! Every once in awhile he gets tired of reading someone the riot act and lays his little head down and breathes hard for a minute before picking his head back up and resuming his monologue. Don’t forget: RAH RAH RAH RAH BA BA DAAA.

Rock of Love Charm School is not all that great. I forgot that a good reality show needs heroes and villains…and this show has no heroes. It’s just the gross, villainous bitches from the first two seasons. Um, and Sharon Osbourne, who looks like that cat lady.

• YESOFCR
BDAZZLD

• Excellent excuse why I came back late from lunch: “Sorry, I was buying Spike a monkey costume for Halloween.”

• Rock of Love: Charm School starts next Sunday!

• Do you know about the Sexy People blog? No? Here you go.

• My brother reports that he ate the following at the Texas State Fair:
1. chicken fried bacon
2. fried chocolate truffle
3. fried grilled cheese
4. fried s’mores

So there is this show that you should watch. It’s called Whatever, Martha and it’s on the Fine Living network. I knew it was Martha Stewart’s daughter and her friend, but what I didn’t know is that they a) look at segments from old Martha Stewart Living shows and then b) completely make fun of those segments. It is enjoyable whether you are a Martha devotee (like me) or not (like Larry, who was forced to watch an episode while I said “this is the best show EVER” approximately 400 times as Alexis ripped on her mother’s love of the cocktail napkin).

Speaking of Martha, I worship at many of her altars, including the organizational altar (my dream is a whole room to devote to linens — SHUT UP IT’S MY DREAM OK), the ridiculously cute and labor-intensive party favor altar, and the baking altar, but one area where Martha and I part ways is actual food. I don’t think I’ve ever tried a non-baked good Martha recipe before yesterday…and I probably won’t do it again. I got tricked into making some old chicken breast stuffed with white beans recipe, and it reminded me of orphanage food.

Larry, who was recently admonished for not saying he enjoyed his dinner quick enough and with the appropriate (read: maniacal) level of enthusiasm, said it was delicious! very moist and flavorful! until I said “I think this sucks” and then he said he agreed.

This weekend I finished reading Brideshead Revisited — a major achievement as I only started it a week ago, it has no pictures, and is a full 341 pages long. I should’ve watched the 80-part miniseries when I was a bored, driver’s licenseless teenager checking out movies from the library, but I never did, perhaps because I read the title then as bride-shed, not brides-head, and maybe I didn’t know that Brides-head is the name of a house until I opened the book, but I really didn’t know what a bride-shed was then. Anyway, I guess I don’t have anything to say about it except it was rolling along for 340 pages and then apparently Evelyn Waugh’s favorite pen broke or he ran out of ink or his editor called because the book suddenly ends on page 341. Seriously: on page 340 everyone is happy and in love and then on page 341 it’s over and everyone dies alone. I think I should write book reviews for the Not Very Interesing Spoiler-Gazette.

1. I just went to Target. Which of the following items did I purchase?
a. Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts
b. Oreos
c. Goldfish crackers
d. orange Tic-Tacs
e. all of the above
f. all of the above? are you kidding?
g. no, I am not kidding
h. that is gross
i. shut up I get hungry at work

2. My guilt about Monday’s post has manifested itself as what?
a. huge zit on end of nose
b. inability to turn head to the right or raise right arm
c. bloody lip from gnashing of teeth
d. fingertip cancer

3. How did I see “there’s” misspelled yesterday?
a. they’re’s
b. their’s
c. their’is
d. the’Ry E^^(zz8
e. cat

4. Spike has hit what new milestone?
a. playing croquet
b. moosehunting
c. chewing on his feet
d. whistling

5. What magazines or newspapers do I read to stay informed and to understand the world?
a. most of them
b. all of them
c. any of them
d. a vast variety of sources
e. wtf

Well, it’s finally happened. I have been writing exaggerated caricatures of people for four years on this website and today I wrote something about someone who I love — and who I did not know read this site. I am mortified beyond belief. I don’t know if she read it or not, but if she did, please know I AM SO SORRY AND KIND OF WANT TO DIE RIGHT NOW.

1. I often wake up in the middle of the night when the baby breathes hard or flutters his eyelids, and a certain word or phrase or name will inexplicably be in my head. Lucy McGillicuddy, circumflex, perhaps bespattered. Last night it was: Kliban cat.

2. I don’t know what my problem is, but Top Model is on my nerves. That stuff last week when Tyra was the fairy godmother with creepy whited out eyes? I didn’t even find it ridiculously amusing. I know. I should take more naps. And oh god, watching Isis try to fold her poor bony body into a pose that would hide her penis was just torture, and not in a good “bitch poured beer on my weave” kind of way.

3. Project Runway: do I love anyone? Not really. Korto, kind of, Jarrell, not at all, Kenley, please.

4. True Blood: Bill is hot, Anna Paquin’s accent grates on my nerves less every week, and the sets — the sets are fucking fantastic. They’ve nailed the trashy south perfectly! Which is essentially what the plot line is every week as well.

5. I recently came across this superstition, allegedly common in rural Pike County in the 1920s: “[R]ub the gums of a new-born baby with the raw brains of a rabbit and he will cut teeth easily.” Oh, weird poor southern people of yesteryear, you make me sick.

6. There is a girl who walks her dog past my house, but “walk” doesn’t aptly describe it. She prances. She is often wearing a cotton dress one could actually describe as a frock if one was in the mood to use such a word, and takes steps like the girls in drill team used to do: toe-heel, not heel-toe. I imagine that she imagines herself in a romantic comedy, perhaps one where she is an editorial assistant at a fashion magazine.

7. Spike is kind of a snotty baby — he always has that back of his head rattly congestion sound. We have a humidifier for his room, we use the suction bulb, we’ve elevated his mattress so his head is raised a little, but nothing really works.

PEOPLE. UNTIL NOW.

Larry bought this thing…this snot-sucking thing. It’s called the Nose Frida. It’s a little hose; you stick one end on the outside of baby’s nose and um, then you suck on the other end. You know. With your mouth. It sounds horrifying, I know! But there is a filter you will not get snot in your mouth and people: it works. Visit the hilarious gallery of nose-sucking mommies here. (With each purchase, you also receive a charming sunshade for your car window that says, “Swedish hoses for stuffy noses.”)

Because I do a lot of things for the baby — for instance, I carried him and then gave him birth — I do not use the Nose Frida. That is purely something between Spike and Larry. I am comfortable relinquishing control in this arena.

8. On Friday I will be going to D.C. for my annual trip, and wow am I not looking forward to leaving Spike for the weekend. I’m taking tomorrow off to hang out with him, to clean the house (my in-laws are coming in to assist Larry with baby duties), and to write elaborate lists of instructions about how to do things. I’m sure Larry’s going to do great, but I am really going to miss rocking that fat, freshly bathed, bejammied baby to sleep each night.

9-13. Sorry, suckers! I’ve run out of steam.