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In somewhat stark contrast to the picture below, in which my brand-new son and I clung to each other, skin on skin, I report to you that I spent a good portion of the evening bellowing, “DO. YOUR. HOME. WORK. NOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW.” And throwing in a, “There will be no TV ever again and if you think I’m joking, just TRY IT!” for good measure.

Gah. Today was perfectly fine until we tried to drive home and got stuck in the most horrendous traffic ever. We didn’t actually get home until 7 and I was just going to make us some grilled cheese sammiches, because what’s better after a stressful fall day than grilled cheese? But, lo, there was no cheese.

In the midst of this meal angst, the baby was just being…I don’t know…purposefully and infuriatingly obtuse about his homework. I went to help him and read the directions aloud: “Read the words in the box…Come. Good. On. That….Uh.”

Hi. I just got back from the doctor’s office and getting my breast ultrasounded. Everything is cool. I had to wait forever, but I really didn’t mind since I walked out of there relieved and I really can’t say the same for a few of the women that were also there.

I hopped on the bus back to work and after squeezing out of the crowded bus past a few Pitt students who were “from Philly” (read: King-of-Prussia, because if you’re from Philly, why do you look like you were just dropped into the middle of Baghdad when you’re only in Oakland?), I scrounged around my office for a little snack since I was starving. But since I had been at the hospital and on the bus, I didn’t want to just eat something without sanitizing my hands a little bit first.

Now, it’s no surprise to anyone that knows me that I’m a little immature and much of my humor is of the Beavis-and-Butthead variety. So, it’s really unfortunate that we use hand sanitizer that is “hand lotion formula.” What this means is that it has the same liquid consistency, but it’s a translucent white color. And it looks like…well, you tell me:

What’s really bad is that the cheap pumps on the hand sanitizer bottles tend to malfunction and squirt this substance on whatever or whoever is in its aim. Believe me. I’ve accidentally squirted this stuff on my shirt before and tried to hide both my snickering and my blushing, since I’m not sure anyone gets (or wants to get) what is so funny. This morning I got it all over the office couch which luckily has vinyl seats. It just looked rather gross when I wiped it up.

This ad is a perfect example of why it is always a good idea to have a copywriter and/or editor who is totally immature when you are working on the script for a new commercial.*

In case you missed that, Shawn Johnson actually uttered the sentence, “It makes my taco pop.” WHO DOES THAT?????

* hiring parties should contact me at kdiddy.org@gmail.com. I’ll send you my resume!

Stiff greetings to you this morning. I pulled my neck in my sleep last night and am now rocking the “I have no movable parts!” look. I rolled over around 5 a.m. and The Pain hit. I started yelping and my very sweet husband, thinking I was having a nightmare, spoke such concerned and comforting words as, “Hey! HEY! What. Is. Wrong. With. You?” Since it was 5 a.m. and I was still grappling with the searing pain, I explained, “NECK. PAIN. FUCKIN. BAD THING. OWWWW.”

And because I am the universe’s bitch, right after the neck spasm, I launched into a sneezing fit. It felt SO GOOD.

Not much else to report. Tracey visited me this weekend and Snarky Amber was in town, as well. On Saturday night we had something of a slumber party, though slightly different from the slumber parties of my youth. We were all passing out by 11:30, no one’s training bra found its way to the freezer, and I had a bit of a hangover in the morning.

Because I’m awesome, I didn’t take any pictures of our antics.

Anyway.

I bent the husband’s ear for a few minutes this morning explaining my conspiracy theories surrounding the McCain/Palin campaign.

I know I don’t delve into politics too much on here, and that’s on purpose. Mostly I just don’t have the energy to get into it with internet people but I’m also just not that compelled to write about it.

But dude. Something is UP. This whole election is such a circus, more so than usual, and the GOP’s decisions are just bizarre. It’s really starting to freak me out that they seem so willing to just throw this election. What are they up to? What do they have planned? What is with this soap opera shit? SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON.

Or don’t. Maybe I don’t really want to know. I suppose it says something about me that Joe Rogan totally gets me. But dude:

Brilliant.

I didn’t really get to watch the opening ceremony for the Olympics. When I turned it on, they were already in the midst of the Parade of Nations and I was kind of tired and I remembered that there are about 55 billion nations.

But I watched some highlights today and got chills. I love a big show. I can’t believe that it was all the vision of one guy. If I had to plan an event that big, it would be heavy on crepe paper and silly string and my directions would be like, “Okay, and then over here we can have the chocolate chip cookie dough bar and some kegs…oh, and everyone gets a sparkler. Boom. Done.”

Anyway…

I will no longer question a sport’s eligibility for the Olympics. I stopped doing that around the time of curling and ballroom dancing. I am not an athlete, so if the folks in charge determine that something has a place on the international stage, I’ll trust their judgment.

Which brings me to beach volleyball.

Now, obviously, beach volleyball is a very athletic event. There’s no question in my mind that it’s perfectly suited to the Olympics. I’m just a little…curious about how it’s presented.

I was watching the Australia/Russia women’s match earlier and of course was reminded of the U.S. victory in this event in the 2004 games. Kerri Walsh and Misty May celebrated their gold medal by jumping into each other’s arms. It was an incredibly joyful moment.

Walsh and May, clad in regulation bikini-ish outfits, rolled around in the sand and spanked each other. Across the land, all you heard was “SCHWIIIIING!”

And, you know, whatever. I’m not going to rail against the sport just because it’s portrayed in a way that’s a tad Joe Francis-esque. Sports are sensationalized. And women’s sports are still struggling just to get recognized. I’m cool with that. But I just think the Olympics possess a certain sense of…propriety? I don’t know if that’s the correct word.

I just want to point out that during the Australia/Russia match, the commentators noted how hot it was on the playing field and cut to a slow-motion shot of one of the Russian players pouring water over her head and gasping in relief.

I’m just sayin’…

I ordered this book:

They sent me this book:

I am going to perform dramatic readings from Warcraft every morning at 9:30 a.m. We will have a salon over coffee and danish.