Why didn't anybody tell me my boyfriend is in the new Wolverine movie?
It's Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights! This is the man (boy) who has replaced Jim from The Office as my number one TV boyfriend but I don't know much about him surprisingly. As if Hugh Jackman's torso wasn't enough of a motivator. We may be back at the movies sooner than I thought. Rowr! And just in time to make with all the sex again too - tres convenient.
Which reminds me. Annette sent me an article the other day about how Hugh Jackman's wife sometimes makes him wear the Wolverine costume when they do it. Now there's a woman after my own heart. I've often lamented (hey!) Brian's refusals over the years to be Darth Vader, Brett Favre (all he'd need there would be a simple GB helmet), Spiderman, Batman and Captain Jack Sparrow. I mean really; I don't think it's asking too much. Then again, I've never actually bought him a costume to wear and I know half his problem is he has a shopping phobia, so maybe I need to look into that a little more. Either way - Hugh Jackman's wife = my new hero(ine).
Here are two things currently making me feel old (in addition to all the usual things): Grace and my 23rd anniversary of friendship is tomorrow (we use the first time we went out together to mark the date) and her daughter just made it on the high school cheerleading team for next year. This is the same kid who was JUST BORN. Or so it feels like. Holy hell. We always joked by the time I had a kid Elizabeth would be old enough to babysit, but now it's more like she's old enough to be its mother. Not even close to funny. But technically true. I predicted she would be a cheerleader for our alma mater; it wasn't hard to imagine since she's been involved with it since the time she was four years old. The first and only cheerleader I've ever loved.
So...what else. Uh, oh yeah. Brian, who is in charge of giving me my fertility medicine shots (I do not stick myself with needles; it's a personal choice), was all ready for me yesterday afternoon, saying cheerfully "Isn't it time for your shot?" Why yes honey, how strangely responsible of you to remember. I stand there all smiley, thinking how thoughtful he really is. He opens the fridge where it is always stored. And then he asks me where it is. (Insert needle-scratching-across-record sound)Me: "Why are you asking ME where it is; I don't touch it, that's your job, where is it, what the fuck, aaaaggghhhh!" Or something like that. Turns out he had left it out on the dining room table last night after shooting me up. Which should tell you the state of the table that we didn't notice the bright red hazmat container, needles and medicine. He started making apologetic noises as I dialed the on-call nurse. Got her on the phone and quickly and panicky explained the dilemma to her. At the end of my rant I added, "I'm going to kill my husband; this is his fault." She laughed and said "Honey, you're fine. Take your shot now and put the medicine back into the refrigerator. Don't kill your husband yet; we still need him for the process. You can do that afterwards." I think more medical people need to get a sense of humor. It helps.
Glad for the end of this work week; it's been about as much fun as a punch in the throat. The next IUI is either happening Monday or Tuesday; we won't know until the follicles get measured Sunday morning - I'm hoping for Monday, but it's not up to me. I'm not even going to speculate what my mental state is going to be like after this one. I do know I have lots of fun questions for the doctor though. Things he is likely not able to answer, but damn it, I'm asking him anyway. Starting off with WHAT IS THE MAJOR MALFUNCTION, NUMBNUTS? (Anyone else a Full Metal Jacket fan? I love that movie.)
That's all for now.
Fight the power.