girlfiend

I can’t decide which spelling of Chanukah/Hanukkah I like the best, nor can I figure out the best way to spell Chrismakwanzahanusolstikkah, but happy, happy to you all. Or not. Whatever.

I’m not nearly as cranky as I was around this time last year, although looking back at the December archive it appears as though I wasn’t as cranky as I remember being. Maybe I just wasn’t writing about it. As for my relative lack of crankiness this year, perhaps it’s because of all of the good pregnancy hormones coursing through me. Of course I am still cranky. I wouldn’t be me without being annoyed about something, but all in all it hasn’t been that bad. In fact, in the gift department things have been pretty good. Even Boyfiend’s mother who usually gets me a ton of shit didn’t do too badly this year- not a single bar of hand painted Christmas soap and not one crappy Christmas candle.

I got an iPod Nano with some accessories, a gift certificate for a prenantal massage, a bag to stash my needles and other knitting supplies, Stitch and Bitch Nation, Borders and Barnes and Noble gift cards, earrings I’ll only wear when at events with Boyfiend’s family, hors d’oeuvres plates that I don’t particulary like, but are much better than what I could have gotten, an oil and vinegar pourer thing along with the second cheapest bottles of oil (Pompeian) and vinegar (Heinz)one could buy (except of course for the supermarket brand), and some other things I can’t think of right now. The fetus also received a few outfits including a bib that randomly says “I love grandma.” Since my mother has long since decided her name, which is as far from grandma as you can get, I certainly hope Boyfiend’s mom is itchin’ to be a grandma.

The cheap ass olive oil/vinegar thing and random bib came from Boyfiend’s aunt, the wife of the dickhead uncle who called me a baby killer. (I can’t remember if I told this story, so here’s the brief version. My doctor told me that drinking wine was fine- he specified a glass, not a bottle- so after watching Boyfiend’s family get shitfaced the previous night and begin their descent into drunkenness the next, I indulged in the equivalent of a thimblefull of wine. Dickhead uncle slammed his fist and screamed at me from the other end of the table, “I can’t sit here and watch this happen. You are doing the worst thing possible and killing your baby. You’re killing your baby and I can’t just sit here and watch without saying something.” I sat quietly and finished my wine so I wouldn’t explode and call him a cocksucker while everyone else in the room promptly came to my defense, as drinking a fucking glass of wine is really not going to kill a baby. Needless to say he never apologized for screaming at me in front of a room full of people. But back to the other story.)

So as I was saying, the cheap stuff came from Dickhead and wife who are known for being cheap as hell. For my bridal shower Aunt Dickhead got me the cheapest item on the registry and chips, popcorn and salsa. The snack items all had bright orange clearance stickers on them. Why? Because the date of freshness had expired. The woman was too cheap to buy a bag of chips for $2.40 and bought me a STALE bag instead. Boyfiend says that as a kid he was always bitter at Christmas time because his parents would get his cousins kickass toys and he and his brother would end up with clearance rack button-down shirts from stores that only existed where Aunt and Uncle Dickhead lived. His cousin would get Transformers and Hot Wheels and he’d be stuck with socks and ill-fitting dress shirts. I can’t stand cheapness. I have no problem with frugality, inexpensive items or bargain shopping, but being cheap is something I just don’t get. Why load up with crap when you can get one decent thing? I can buy my own shitty olive oil.

But all in all, things are good. We only spent an hour or two with the Dickheads and the rest of Boyfiend’s family is downright tolerable if not enjoyable. The baby hasn’t been quite so tolerable. It’s spent the last few days all wedged up in my right side. I look way lopsided and it’s not especially comfortable. In fact, it really sucks and causes me to grimace far more often than I’d like. I now understand why so many women are desperate to get these things out of them by the end and I still have ten weeks to go. Can you believe that? Ten weeks. It’ll be here in no time. We’ve got to start getting stuff together. Or at least get a car seat, because they won’t let us bring the baby home from the hospital without one.

Anyway, Happy Holidays.