Oh
my god, I'm going to kill people. My motherfucking iTunes for the
second time in a year just decided to delete its own playlist library,
which is the equivalent of all the mix tapes you've made being trampled
and destroyed in a five second rampage. One second I'm listening
to a song, the next iTunes quits, and the next I reopen it and it
says "Importing library. Can't find library." And then
it's all tabula rasa. And have I backed it up in the last two months?
No. This combined with the daily kernel panics and aircraft carrier-sounding
crashes makes me want to throw this computer out the window. My
love for Apple can only run so deep in the face of these horrors,
Steve Jobs. Man, I'm mad. Maybe my rage will push the baby out.
"How my Macintosh sent me into labor."
And
I was going to write a nice lighthearted entry about how Gray went
to his senior prom without me last night:
But
now I'm more inclined to bemoan the fact that I didn't get to go
not because he was only afforded one ticket to this particular awards
show, but because who would want to take their fat pregnant wife
with them to a fancy event anyway? Damn you, Macintosh/iTunes, you
have turned me bitter and resentful.
It
was funny when I took some pictures of him before he left last night
and he put his arm out like there was a girl next to him, and I
was all "What are you doing?" and he goes, "I"m
going to photoshop my high school prom date in later." Nice.
Not quite as nice as the time when we'd been going out for about
a year and I went over to his apartment and the 8x10 prom photo
of he and that same girl in a cardboard frame was sitting on top
of his TV. Unfortunately one of my many flaws is that I veer towards
the green in the jealousy department, but it was hard to get insane
in the presence of so much pink silk cummerbund, taffeta and teenage
acne.
And
let's just make this a Gray entry. Poor him. He's been working long
hours, trying to figure out how he'll cut back and stay home when
the baby comes, but saying all the while how ready he is for stealthpunch
junior to be born, and then bang -- Thursday night he gets a migraine
big enough to land him (and by virtue of that, us) in the emergency
room from 11 to 3am. Nobody knows where migraines come from, I mean
are they due to stress or food triggers or light or atmospheric
pressure? But this one was a mean doozie whether it came from stress
or it didn't. And I had one the week before that, the first of my
pregnancy, and it ran the typical scary gamut of vision going wonky,
then I went half-numb, then the headache came, and I couldn't take
anything but a wee Tylenol for it. But I lived, and I don't seem
to have any residual neurological damage, ha. Not really ha, because
they scare the shit out of me. And now I'm left wondering, "Will
I get one today? Will I have one during birth?" Migraines just
suck.
I'm
going to finish writing my birth plan now, the "Rules to follow
and what to do if anything goes wrong" manifesto. And then
I will line up my last week of interviews for the needle documentary
(I put an ad on craigslist looking for people and only one person
in far away San Diego responded, ugh) which will hopefully include
shooting phlebotomists-in-training at a Bryman Academy-like place.
It might make me pass out watching it, but it'll make for good film.
