pregnancy hormones. and the biebs.


You guys know.  I dig the Biebs.  I’m an old lady.  He’s not of legal drinking age.  It started out with me being sad that people were making fun of a small child.  “So mean!” I thought.  Then he released “Boyfriend” and it was just so, so catchy.  Then I saw him on Ellen and he was visiting sick children and doing charity work and in general being the nice Canadian boy that he was.

now. sigh. like a sigh of “what happened” not a dreamy sigh.

Then things went south.  He broke up with Selena.  He smoked a joint.  He mooned us on twitter.  He grabbed a fan’s boobie.  In general terms, he started being a mega douche.

This did not stop me from crying over his break up with Selena in the car on the way to Gulfport when his song “Baby” came on.  I was all like “He didn’t need no Starbucks!  Selena was his Starbucks!”

Progesterone you flighty temptress.  Not only that, but I looked down at my right hand and realized I had my wedding band on it, not the left.  I called my mom to make sure a wedding band went on the left.  When I asked Nick if he had noticed if I had been wearing my wedding ring on the wrong finger (for two weeks) he said that, yes, he had, and that he hadn’t told me because he feared my left hand was too swollen to get the ring on and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Further proof that progesterone is slowly eating away at my rational brain function.

I’ll leave you with Owen’s swaggy skinny jammies.  Tight ankles.  Baggy crotch.  Owen’s hides a diaper.  I don’t know what j. biebs is hiding.



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