Oh, half of my heart.

Oh dear, I probably shouldn’t be watching more True Blood. It’s bad for me but it’s soooo delicious. Seasons two and three, you have been SOO good to me with Lafayette’s character development. Take a look at this quote


“"'Scuse me. Who ordered the hamburger... with AIDS? In this restaurant, a hamburger deluxe comes with french fries, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and AIDS! Do anyone got a problem wit dat? Aw baby, it's too late for that. Faggots been breeding your cows, raisin' your chickens, even brewin' your beer long before I walked my sexy ass up in this motherfucker. Everything on your God damn table got aids. Well all you gots to do is say hold the aids here. Eat it! Bitch, you come into my house ,you gonna eat the food THE WAY I FUCKIN' MAKE IT! Do you understand me? Tip your waitress."”

That was season one. It only gets better.

"Don't get it twisted hunny, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whooole bunch-a otha' shit after that, but a hooka' dead last, so if I got even a Jew at an Al Qaeda pep rally shot at gettin' my black-ass outta this mutha' fucka', I'm takin' it; Now whatch' you wanna know?"

Sookie: "He's your maker, isn't he?"
Eric: "Don't use words you don't understand."
Sookie: "You have a lot of love for him."
Eric: "Don't use words I don't understand."

"Did you know your boyfriend hit me over the head with a 52 inch plasma television earlier tonight? Everyone says they're so thin and light, but let me tell you, when wielded properly, they're quite a weapon."

"Now Jesus and I agree to see other people that doesn't mean we don't still talk from time to time."


I’m not kidding, it’s just delicious. Sweet and sassy and southern as apple pie with a healthy dose of witchcraft, vampirism, Catholicism, sex and enough swearing to make a sailor blush. Not me, though, because I can singlehandedly bring a sailor to his knees. With my swearing, you perv!

In other news, I am officially the size of someone with a full term baby. With TWO more months to go. I’ve been reading a blog about a woman with triplets and I’m sitting here going “holy shit, how is my tummy going to expand THAT much more in the next two months???” With that said, I’d also like to say how blessed I am feeling, having gone this far with absolutely no problems, besides random agonizing joint pain and whatnot. And the doctors say I’m doing well. Which is great. Also, I’m weighing in at 171 which is RIDICULOUS. I was walking up the stairs today and trying to figure out why the hell everything hurt so much when WHAM! It hit me. I’m basically carrying around a huge fucking bag of dog food everywhere. No kidding, everything is hurting. *facepalm* I’m not proud at how often this fact surprises the hell out of me.

On a less positive note, I am so SO over this pregnant with twins thing. I have to pee every twenty minutes, my hips are KILLING me, my two boys like to shove my ribcage and headbang my vagina, I’ve developed strange cravings for tuna fish po boys with cheese, mayo and pickles from Antone’s (if you knew me, you’d know how completely creepy THAT request has been to my family), leaky boobs, ridiculously swollen feet and constantly being dehydrated. Not that anyone needs to know this but GOODBYE sex drive. Wow, even I get that was an overshare. HI DAD! Grrr, this makes me so angry. I am the quintessential hungry hungry hippo. Not cool. Beating the shit out of someone sounds delicious.

Mike proposed. I’m sure y’all figured that out by now, what with the crush/fiancé letter, but he did! And it still kind of blows my mind, looking at this ring. Which is now hanging around my fucking NECK because my hands are swelling. That fact all by itself makes me want to cry hysterically. The swollen feet thing I can sort of handle….but not wearing my shiny engagement ring? What the fucking fuck? At least Mike gets it, so I don’t feel guilty about not wearing it, but I’m kind of frustrated anyway. And at this point, I mean in tears frustrated, not baseball bat frustrated. Although my body does make me feel baseball bat frustrated. So do my ankles. I promise to rave and rant about the proposal and the ring sometime soon, at a time when I’m not feeling so depressed. Soon soon soon.