The Last Time...

I painted my toenails last night, like I do every other week. It will be the last time until this baby is born. I twisted and turned and grunted and almost passed out from lack of oxygen, all just to make my toes look pretty. It'll be pro-pedicures from here on out, or naked toenails. I thought about having D paint them, but I would likely end up looking as though my feet have been knawed on by a rabid dog.

Things at home are great. D is working long hours which blows but also means some extra $dough$, and that's always a good thing. Bogart is cute as hell and I SWEAR he understands what I'm saying when I talk to him. I can see it in his eyes. He's saying 'shut the fuck up and give me more treats, woman. I know I'm cute.' The little bastard.

Such baby friendly, mommy-like language, I know. I'm working on it. Actually, I'm not working on it. I'm trying to wear myself out on the cussing so that all of my favorite words will have lost their appeal by the time baby comes. Also? I'm watching as much raunchy no good trashtastic t.v. as possible. After December, life will consist of Teletubbies and Baby Einstein and drool and poop and all things cute, fluffy and non-cussing. I'm almost ready.