April 12, 2006

on the phantom pregnancy and the BeeGees...

Apartment tid-bit of the day:

Isn't it lovely, when the apartment two doors down feels compelled to open all their windows and crank up their choice of musical enlightenment so high that you wonder if they're 90% deaf in both ears or just complete douche bags? A couple of days ago it was the local hip-hop station, that time courtesy of some car parked along the curb. Um, hello? How lame are you when you have to park your car on the curb and blast Snoop Dog and then listen to 2 and a half minutes of commercials at the SAME EXACT LEVEL OF SOUND? Today, I arrived home, tired from a long days work, and as I neared the complex to park I was welcomed with some nice tunes from the apartment a few down from us. But now, here's the issue: they were blasting, "How Deep is your Love" by the BeeGees.

What. The. Hell.

I had to fight such curiosity while walking past their window. I mean, who are these people? I wanted to tap on the window and ask them if they have some Air Supply or Fleetwood Mac that they would care to share with the rest of us rentees. But I was met with an even more worthy request, as I was met with the chorus of "Red, Red, Wine" as I entered my apartment. Nice.

I have nothing else to even say about this. I'm just at a loss for words. At least they turned it down, my cute old-lady neighbor and I were inches away from calling the office. (Maybe they noticed out angry gestures. Hmmm.)

Anyway...in other news, I had a fun scare the last couple of days. (Sorry if any guys are reading this. Girl issue. Enjoy your guy-ness.) So, I'm on birth control, as I have been for the last year. I'm pretty good at taking it, actually. Go me. But that's not the point. The point is that I'm on my 4th day of placebos (again, this may go completely over any guy's head) and nothing. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Usually by the beginning of the second day, I'm good to go, so just figure my state of mind earlier today, when I was busy calculating when I'd be due and where the closest (reputable) daycare center would be and what block of the hood we'd be moving to because we'd have no money and what shall I name our twins and...yeah. Once I reached my breaking point and was ready to call my doctor for reassurance, a quick trip to the restroom proved my suspicions quite false. But really, what type of prank is God trying to play on me? Not funny, sir. Not funny. I don't like that game. (I don't think Jay does either.)

Fun day.

It all made me realize that I am by no means ready to be a mother. I always thought that once I was married, the maternal instinct would take over and I'd be secretly stashing away my birth control pills and "accidentally" get pregnant. (What? I wasn't actually planning on DOING that. You know.) But, it didn't. Of course, I'm only 21. Maybe I'm just now realizing that. I realize how much I want to DO. I'd be so...upset, I guess. I really want to enjoy being a Newlywed for a few years. Besides, everyone says that I look so young, and the last thing I want to do is walk around looking like a pregnant 16 year old. How upsetting would that be?

2 comments :

  1. The surest way to rectify the situation of ummm...girlness...is to purchase a home pregnancy test. As soon as you are done being mortified in the drug store, run into the nosiest neighbor on the block and freak your husband out...you will be 'good to go'. It works like a charm...

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