Exciting? Um...not so much. Unless you think lettuce is exciting...

Not much cooking this weekend.

Too busy.

I did have Thai take-out Saturday night: my favorite laab (or larb) salad with chicken (sometimes tofu or beef), chiles, kaffir lime and fish sauce served with lettuce, cucumbers and sticky rice.

And two crispy tofu spring rolls.

And I had this deliciousness all to myself as the Mr. was busy getting his geek on with an old friend at a Comic Book Convention.

Yes. Seriously.

Comic. Book. Convention.

No, I don't want to talk about it.

When I placed my order at the Thai restaurant (which was NOT busy at all), the 13 year-old-looking girl told me that it would be a "while" as I had ordered the sticky rice as an extra (sorry, you don't eat this salad without it- it's horrifying to even consider the thought.)

I said "That's o.k, I need to run to Walgreens anyways". And off I went down the block to peruse the drugstore makeup selections and make the ever-importand decision: Us, or People?

I tend to linger in Walgreens- I can seriously spend an hour there, walking back and forth in the makeup, making the salesclerks nervous.

I purchased this new-to-me product there, and I think I'm in love. (Boys, think about sports here for a minute as I briefly discuss makeup.)
Some of you know how devoted I am to my Terra tints lip stuff. This new product is easily 99% as awesomely awesome. Light, sheer, shiny, good but not overpowering color. Highly recommended. (end makeup discussion.)

Anyhoo- I go back to the restaurant, approximately 1/2 hour later, and the same girl just stands there, staring at me blankly.

Me: "Is my order ready?"

Her: "Um, yeah. It's going to be a while. The sticky rice takes longer, you know."
(I look to my left and count 3 people eating sticky rice at that exact same moment)

Me: "Um, yeah, I know. O.k. Do you have any idea how long it will be?"

Her: "Why?"
(What? How is "why?" an answer? What the fuck do you mean- "WHY?")
Um...o.k.

Me: "Well, I thought I'd run one more errand but I just wanted to know how long I have."

Her: "What errand?"

Me: (pausing, thinking WHAT THE FUCK? What an odd question. What the hell do you care? Excuse me, Miss, have you been hit on the head lately? Taken any pills from strangers? Hmm...?)
"I'm going to the liquor store. I'll be back." I turned on my heel and marched out.

I went down the street, had a beer at a bar, stopped at the liquor store, and meandered down Grand Avenue- killing approximately 45 minutes in the process.
When I went back to the restaurant, my order was just coming out of the kitchen. Some days the universe just likes to play Russian roulette with my patience, it seems.

But it was delicious. Worth a 1.25+ hour wait? The jury's still out on that one. Whatever.

Moving on now...


I did make sort of a "greek-ish" pizza last night, but pizza is so easy I don't really count it as cooking. I'm at work so I can't post a pic. Use your imagination.

The catering was weird, but fine. I guess I don't really know for sure. I just sort of left when my work was done. I don't have patience for waiting around at these things. If you can't be around at the end to say whatever you need to say post-meal, too bad- I'm done. Just make sure my check arrives this week, or you're going to hear from me, that's for damn sure.

And...that's it. That was my weekend.

About as exciting as plain yogurt, but still kind of nice.

Anyone else eat anything interesting this weekend?

On the non-existent fruit of my womb.

About this baby thing...

I'm sorry, I don't want one.

Wait- no, I'm not one bit sorry.

Here's the deal:

Once I reached the ripe old age of 23 and started realizing that this dating thing could lead to more serious endeavors such as nuptials and procreation, I made a few decisions.

The first such decision was that if I happened to get "accidentally" pregnant I would seriously consider going through with it. (no reproductive rights debates here, please. You can have any opinion on this you wish, I just won't discuss/debate it here or now. The end.)
By "accidentally" I meant that if I happened to trip and fall into a penis and I happened to be feeling fertile and nature took its course...well, you know how this works by now, I hope.

At 23, when you think you're old and wise and are already so DONE with everything- and that's when one tends to make these sort of grandiose, sweeping decisions.

Other than a few anxious near-misses involving late menses, discount pregnancy tests and maybe me having bad aim peeing into the minuscule cup that (at the time, pre-pee stick) was provided, no such accidents occurred. Whew.

The other decision I made was that, should this "accident" never happen and I were to actually go on and live a child-free existence, I would refuse to take any shit from anyone about my decision.

So, I'm not taking any shit about the barren, rocky wasteland that is my reproductive system anymore. I'm sick to death of the pitying looks- like I really want one but have been unable to and I must be masking my disappointment with denial. Nope. I feel for anyone who really wants a child and it isn't happening for some reason- I really do. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through.
I just don't feel the same way.

When total strangers will rudely ask me why I don't have kids yet (generally after they have rudely asked me my age) I usually get "that look". The disbelieving look. That why would I deny myself this glorious and (I'm sure- thank you Mom, without you the mess that is me wouldn't be possible) truly rewarding endeavor look.
When I say "I just don't want kids", they generally launch into the sales pitch of why now would be an excellent time to change my mind ("You're not getting any younger, you know"). it's like they're trying to sell me a used, only slightly rusty car. "You'll love it- really it's hardly any maintenance at all! Sure, it needs a new paint job, new brakes and a new engine, but let me tell you little lady, this little beauty will give you years and years of happiness if you maintain it properly. And you know- you're not getting any younger..."

Or, I get the look like I must be a former hooker and crack addict and that's why I don't have any children- obviously my pimp took the 14 I had in the past away from me and sold them to the highest bidder. Yes, that's exactly it. My ovaries have been depleted and my body so ravaged that if I tried to conceive one more time I would give birth to something that resembled Milton Berle and E.T. with Britney Spears' intellect. Yup.

Or, I get the look like I'm some angry, mean child-hater. Like I kick puppies for fun.
Not even close. Kids loooove me. I will never understand why, but they do. They cling to me like I was made of gummy bears and unicorns. I figure maybe kids have a sense for people like me- they can smell my lack of maternal instinct and figure I'm an easy mark. I am. I love spoiling your kids and giving them toys that both make noise and make messes. Hahahahahaha!

I like kids. I do.

I especially like them in the post-baby years, around ages 2-8. They are frustrating and difficult, but damn they're cute, funny and charming.

Don't mistake this for wanting them though.

What I want is to travel more.

What I want is to have my free time be my own.

What I want is to buy more art.

What I want is to re-decorate my house.

What I want is to explore the hobbies that interest me.

What I want is to have the pitying, sad, disdainful and sometimes angry looks stop.

Am I being selfish? Maybe, but...

I don't give a shit if I am- it's my decision.


*******************************


Have a great weekend, my little fluffer nutters.
Go out and don't give a shit about something just for me.
XO

Mr. Zilla would later describe the meal as "pedestrian, yet filling".