Some random pop culture stuff & blog musings:
I suppose I am the only person in the American Idol viewing audience who 1) loved Elliott's hair 2) did not mind Elliott's song, and 3) did not notice Elliott's teeth. In my defense, 1) I LOVE shaggy hippie hair on men. And women too, for that matter. 2) I didn't have any reaction either way to the song, so. 3) I was far too worried about Molly's teeth to worry about any teeth that weren't currently precariously close to biting off one of my nipples. She did refrain, and has not injured or even scared me in several days, so squee.*
I wanna have Blake's babies because 1) he is fun and yummy and his hair behaves attractively and I have been wanting him to do that Maroon 5 song all season and he did- woot, and 2) Bu has had an emotional vasectomy, a term I just invented at the coffee shop with my beloved friend & former manager. He'd have a real one rightnowtodaylastweekeven if I'd agree to it & we could afford it. So no more Bu babies. I'm looking at either seducing an emerging beatboxing popstar or adopting. (Yep, I'm bullshitting you; I am fine with an only child. Almost totally. For now. Ooh! Or I could clone Molly. 'Cause she rocks. Only my clone baby would be genetically modified to grow no teeth until she weans. And her poop would smell like lavender or honeysuckle, haven't decided.)
Every time I see an ad for Knocked Up I think it'll be saccharine cute and intermittently funny and would be a good rental on pizza & beer night but I'll hate every second of it because I think it will be filled with American Pregnancy Stupidity (TM) and doctors and will piss me off. I cringe at the idea of what the birth scene will be like. I'll probably see it on DVD after the rest of the world, because that's what I do. Hip film girl I am so not. Witty pop culture diva, mmm, not.
Bones was adorable. Angela's dad was fucking precious. I can't believe how much I hate David Boreanaz as Angel, and love him as Seely Booth. Truth be told, I totally watch this show because it's jewelry porn. I get weak in the knees looking at all Brennen's chunky beautiful beads and antique pendants, and... oh I have to stop. Getting too excited.
I have got to turn off the telly. Brain rotting, Molly becoming commercial zombie. Bad role model. Erck. I didn't even consider TV turn off week this year. There was a new House & Heroes on. Could have at least pretended to care, taped them & cheated, but no.
I think I have settled on an identity for the paranoid mommy blogger protection program. I am considering WordPress, so you WP pimps can stop with the subtle suggestions. You know who you are;)I am buoyed by the idea of having a fresh virtual canvas and a little nauseous about leaving this. It totally interrupts my story, I guess... I just think now's a better time than later and the older she gets the more I worry about putting her out there. Here. I do plan on using our photos still, but our names won't be attached.
Also, I'm infatuated with my new blog name but it's a secret for now because I keep doing that and then hating it. I've slept on it, though, and it stuck.
*Oh, please. As if you thought for a nanosecond I could refrain from boobspeak or babycentric babble for a whole post.