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An Update, On Things You May Or May Not Care About

Posted by Gin on June 22, 2011

  • We got another cat, because we are suckers. Meet Dirty Harry Callahan, affectionately known in this house as The Shithead (for good reason).

Don't let the cute kitty belly fool you
This brought our cat count up to four. Yeah.

  • The rest of the cats got mad about the new guy. Two ran away, within a couple of days of each other. Some asshole in my neighborhood tore down the Lost Cat fliers I put up. Yeah.
  • After becoming fed up with the quality of care from my normal ob/gyn, a few weeks ago I went back to my Fertility $pecialiSt. After reviewing my history and course of treatments so far, his recommendation was to start hormone injections. Depending on if I want to go the natural or turkey baster route, these treatments can cost anywhere from $1,500 to $2,000+ a cycle. Like, a month. Yeah.

After crying and drinking wine and crying and more wine, I decided that maybe I should just cool it on this babymaking stuff for a bit. John was going to be traveling to The Armpit of Africa for work for a couple of weeks anyway, so there’s no point in rushing into stuff if the timing could be off anyway. So I ordered an Infertility Yoga DVD – couldn’t hurt, right? – with customized routines and breathing exercises and shit to coincide with certain phases of each cycle. HEY THIS COULD BE REALLY GREAT LET’S DO THIS, I thought as I popped in the DVD for the first time, pretty buzzed after a couple of glasses of wine and still unsure of all this hippie shit.

Except that I can’t get through these things, each routine ending with me lying on my back on the floor, as instructed, with my hands over my abdomen sending “warm, comforting energy” to my uterus, tears pooling in my ears because WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING, HOW HAS MY LIFE COME TO THIS, AND WHY DO I THINK I COULD TAKE CARE OF A BABY ANYWAY, I CAN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF CATS,  THEY HAVE ENOUGH SENSE TO SHIT IN A BOX AND NOT ALL OVER THEMSELVES, AND THEY RAN AWAY FROM ME.

July 5 will mark four years since I got off The Pill and I started this whole thing. I have learned a lot and been through even more during that time, but I feel even less sure of things now than when I started. I’m discouraged. We’ve already sunk thousands of dollars into this process. Am I prepared to spend more on the injections each month than we do on all of our monthly bills combined? Am I prepared for that much more emotional investment? Am I prepared for the inevitable onslaught of Crazy the hormones would bring, without the benefit of knowing that the breakouts and nausea and irrationality are because I’m actively growing a baby? If we were “just letting nature take its course”, I could fool myself into thinking I didn’t really care one way or the other, as I sat waiting for the results of a pee stick. We’ve just been having fun…right?

I don’t know what to do. Yeah.


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Posted by Gin on June 8, 2011

Gin:  Finally listened to that Alamo Drafthouse voicemail
A dollar says she was wearing one of those shitty feather hair extensions when she got kicked out

 Jamie:  lol
P.S. I love love love Alamo Drafthouse and other dinner/bar/movie theaters of the same ilk. I can have beer and sliders AND watch some  adolescent Apatow-ian film WITHOUT the obnoxious junior high kids whose parents drop them off unabashedly dry humping two seats down? I’m so there.

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Posted by Gin on June 3, 2011

Hello, my lovelies – I am not dead, although today I feel close to it, perhaps a summer cold coming on.

The fact that it’s already dry as hell and hot as balls down here in Houston is not helping me feel Fresh! and Energized! and shit. WELL HELLO TO YOU, SUMMER, wish your greeting had been more like a hug from an old friend, and not a PUNCH IN THE DAMN FACE, THANKS A LOT.

Sharing this song with you because ever since I downloaded Sleigh Bells’ “Treats” a few months ago (which I totally dig – props to Alyx for the rec), this song has always had me imagining sticky summer evenings, chilling on a patio or on the beach, the sun sinking down in the sky, a cold beverage in my hand. Now I’ve watched the video, and it is not at all like the fantasy I had in my head. Hm. But that’s okay – you should listen to this song and go to a happy place (where there’s cold beer).

P.S. I covet Alexis Krauss’ bangs something fierce.

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Posted by Gin on May 9, 2011

A list of the contents of my bag*, as of 8 o’clock this morning:

1 receipt for new reading glasses

1 receipt from Ikea

1 recipe for Chicken Fried Rice, from my friend Erin (available upon request)

1 401k statement that I have been meaning to take to our financial planner for like 3 weeks

4 different kinds of OTC nasal spray

1 receipt from hair salon

1 receipt for John’s mom’s Mother’s Day gift

4 grocery receipts

2 receipts from locally-owned farmer’s market

1 current grocery list, plus coupons

4 old grocery lists (one with the word “Zanzibar!” at the top, because I saw that on the back of an RV [we were coming back from out of town when I made the list], and I thought that would be an awesome pet name, complete with Exclamation Point!)

2 lists of Shit I Have To Do

1 shopping list of Jamie’s from when I visited her a month ago (“squirt bottles & spray paint”)

3 different kinds of Burt’s Bees lip balm

2 different pair of reading glasses

1 pair sunglasses

1 wallet

1 bottle estrogen pills

1 travel umbrella (black w/ white polka dots)

1 unopened pack Orbit Wintermint gum

1 tomato red Moleskin planner

1 cute multicolor-striped pen that goes with said planner

1 cute orange leather zip pouch (that Jamie gave me) with assorted OTC pills

1 multipack of Post-It notes

1 cell phone

1 Japonesque travel eyelash curler (pink, for Breast Cancer Awareness) (I would not have  bought a PINK one, because I detest pink, except that I’d lost my original black one and was desperate, until I found the black one in the bottom of my makeup bag upon bringing home the new one)

1 set keys

1 tube Too Faced Lash Injection mascara (the best ever, says the girl that lives in humid as hell Southeast Texas)

1 small notepad with “I’M SO SMART” in large font across the front, from the clearance bin at Old Navy

1 bottle Aleve

1 compact Makeup Forever Duo Mat powder foundation in shade 201

1 pill box with decorative bluebird on the lid

1 pair nail clippers

1 pair Tweezerman travel size tweezers, black with pink and white polkda dots (the best ever)

1 tube Clinique Almost Lipstick in Black Honey (it really *does* look good on everyone)

1 medical bill that is actually already paid off, so SUCK IT

*I’m not even going to get into the SIDEpockets, because GOD, ENOUGH

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Posted by Gin on May 5, 2011

Sometimes I find funny little pictures when stumbling through the internets.

I see something that amuses me for some reason or another, and save it.

But what to do with them?

So I made a file labeled “Awesome’, and have been keeping them in there.

And then I forgot about it.

And then I stumbled across it again, and now they are my slideshow screensaver.

Except that means I hardly ever see them, unless I sit at my desk and wait for the screensaver, like an idiot.

Which isn’t to say that I don’t actually do that.

John sent me this one - I love Eleanor Powell.

And yes, I know I could change my settings, but I’m too lazy for that – it’s much easier to just sit and zone out until the screensaver picks up. So.

And this is one is just John in our kitchen holding a giant inflatable jalapeno - I just love the ridiculous face he's making.

Anyway, thank you, that is all.

P.S.  Feel free to send me amusing pictures, but please, not the naked kind.

P.P.S. If this is your picture, and you think I am scamming you because I didn’t give you credit, I’M NOT, I’m just lazy and do not keep up with my sources, GOD, GET OVER IT ALREADY.

P.P.P.S. If the picture is a naked one, but is still really awesome, I guess you could still send it to me, if you really wanted to. 

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Posted by Gin on May 3, 2011

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[15:01] People posting birthday tributes to their dead grandfathers = creepy.

[15:01] Wherever your grandfather is, HE’S PROBABLY NOT CHECKING FACEBOOK.


[15:06] Concur.

[15:11] It would be awful and hilarious to open up a fake account in his name, and reply to her, Thanks, sugarplum! or whatever

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[15:12] “Kinda hot here!”


[15:12] “Sorry, gotta run, Jesus is at the door – we’re going out tonight for wings and beer for my birthday!”

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[15:12] LOL in [meeting].


[15:13] YES!

[15:14] “Grandpa” is at “Wings and Brews” with “Jesus” and 12 others

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[15:16] 11


[15:16] LOL

[15:16] Right

[15:16] My bad

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[15:16] Actually, they replaced Judas later, so it would be 12.


[15:16] This is totally getting posted

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[15:17] Oh, man.


[15:17] I’ll see you in hell, sir.

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Infertility Insensitivity, or Don’t Fuck With Me, I’m On Hormones

Posted by Gin on April 26, 2011

I was furious to the point of tears over this on Friday afternoon, angrily texted some friends about it, ranted and raved to John. I seriously considered writing about it then, but just figured I needed to calm down some. Now it’s four days later, and yeah, I’m still kinda pissed, so here goes:

Last month’s round of Clomid was unsuccessful in more ways than one, so Here We Go Again for April/May. I stopped by the pharmacy near my work to pick up my prescription – I love this drugstore because it’s NEVER busy, I’ve gotten great service, and also, since it’s near work and not home, there is no danger of running into my mother-in-law there and her grilling me, WHAT, ARE YOU SICK, WHAT’S WRONG, I HAVE ANTIBIOTICS IN MY PURSE.

I roll up to the drive-thru window, give the pharmacy tech – a kind-looking woman in her late forties – my information. As she’s tapping away at the keyboard, she looks at me through the glass and says, pityingly, “Are you hoping for it to happen soon?”

I am too flabbergasted to answer, and also she still has my precious drugs in her hand, so I just “Errrraahhhhhuhhhh…” and put my hand out. “No, not at all, I just pop hormones because I love the mood swings and crying jags and weird sprays of acne – it’s superfun!”, I think. JUST GIVE ME THE DRUGS.

“Are you praying for a little boy or a little girl?”

Again, I have no words.

“Well then, I’ll just pray for you a healthy baby.”

I just shrug, grab the bag out of the drawer, take off.

I was so floored, and ANGRY, I had to pull over in the parking lot to catch  my breath. I was tempted to march back into the store and give her, someone, anyone, a piece of my mind, but I could not guarantee that it would not devolve into me just screaming unintelligibly, crying, and throwing things, before exiting with a loud “MOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” and driving off.

What does she say to customers that come in for STD meds? “Hope the itching subsides!” Or antidepressants? “Don’t be sad – it’s Friday!” Or is it just the fact that it involves my uterus make it okay for her to ask questions?

Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES – ESPECIALLY if you are some kind of medical/pharmaceutical professional, or if you are even just the checkout girl at the grocery store who gives me a Knowing Look as she scans the ovulation kits and pregnancy tests along with my giant bottle of wine and 3-pack of Kleenex – is it appropriate for you to comment on or ask questions about the goings-on (or not!) of a stranger’s reproductive system. Ever.

“But I’m just trying to be nice!”

How nice for you that you are trying to be nice. If you feel that strongly about it, say a silent prayer or send good vibes. Keep your mouth shut.

“I didn’t mean any harm!”

Of course you didn’t, few people do, but that doesn’t make it any less likely that you may find your eyes being clawed out by a woman who is working REALLY HARD at just trying to hold her shit together until she gets home and can watch “Intervention” and feel better about her own life circumstances.

“I just want to be helpful and supportive!”

Be helpful and supportive by doing your job quickly and courteously, without editorializing or being nosy. If it’s not your job to talk to this person, just be kind and stay out of the way. In other words, just treat her the same way you should be treating everyone else.

Just because you also have a uterus does not mean you have the right to inquire about someone else’s, and even though it’s important that woman listen to and try to support each other through experiences that are exclusive to our sex, that does not mean that every woman wishes to lay bare her soul to a stranger.

Having said all of this now, I will admit to two things:

1)      I acknowledge that this is a very sensitive subject for me, and YES, sometimes people are just unintentional jerks because (SHOCK!) they can’t read minds, and we are all guilty of not speaking thoughtfully and having something dumb tumble out of our mouths before we can fully think through the implications of what we’re saying. It happens.

2)      I have to work really, really hard at not falling prey to these excuses myself. If I want people to stay out of *my* ladybits, I should stay out of others’, even if it seems harmless at the time. It might not be.

My experiences with infertility have caused me to closely reexamine a L O T of things in my life – reconciling my fervent desire to have a child with my fervent pro-choice stance; my need to feel heard while also wanting privacy; my own tendency towards nosiness while trying to remember to respect the privacy of others; realizing that despite the hole I feel in my life right now, I have a pretty fucking awesome life, and that All Of This is just a part of it (and also, I know, shutup whitegirlproblems).

I also realize I cannot go through life expecting everyone and everything to cater to ME and walk on eggshells so as not to possibly hurt my feelings. But a nosy jerkface is a nosy jerkface, so.

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Possible Meanings Of The “TMNT” Vanity Plate On The Car In Front Of Me This Morning

Posted by Gin on April 25, 2011

Totally Menacing Neck Tats

Touching My New Testicle

Trust Me: Never Tapdance

Trouble Making New Treaties

Terrible Monotonous Neverending Trailers

Tangotinis Make Nerds Tipsy

P.S. I *KNOW* it meant Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles – I mean, it was a Focus, and the dude driving the car was a NERD, but I find these possible explanations much more entertaining.

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Diet Tips, or Why I Can’t Wear Clothes From High School Anymore

Posted by Gin on April 12, 2011


[11:36] My cubemates keep talking about weight loss stuff

[11:36] And I hope it’s not like, HINT-HINT, GIN

[11:36] Because seriously, you are barking up the wrong tree

[11:37] I am not interested in limiting my daily intake to, like, yogurt and a handful of almonds

Bananahammock Underwear Burglar

[11:37] And delicious RICE CAKES.

[11:38] I’ve got one of those Otis Spunkmeyer cookies from the cafeteria. Should I come over and eat it ever-so-slowly in your cube?


[11:38] I DON’T LIKE YOGURT. Which means I could never do on a diet, so I should just never try. Because I think that’s, like, a rule. Diet = yogurt.

[11:38] You should. Like, right in front of [obnoxious calorie-counting cubemate].

[11:38] I think you should pick up some nacho cheese to dip it in

[11:38] And some bacon bits to sprinkle on top

[11:39] Then deep-fry it

[11:39] And dust some powdered sugar on top

[11:39] Garnish with strawberries. Because fruit is good for you.


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Posted by Gin on April 4, 2011

Infertility is like running blindly in a marathon, and you can’t tell where you are, and you have no idea how long you will be running, but you keep seeing plenty of other people cross the finish line, and just when you think you are running out of physical/emotional/psychological reserves, well, TOO BAD – keep on truckin’ it, sister.

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