Let me clear a few things up.

I haven't returned emails from blog friends since...July? August? I have no idea. Let's make a choose your own adventure out of this: if you are tired of my excuses, read The Short Of It; if you are tired of my excuses but want to read my less-than-compelling story about my inability to manage technology, read The Long of it.

The Short of It: I'm a dick, probably.

The Long of It: Hotmail was working on my iPhone. For a long time, too. But then I did my last update and somehow it is not working again.  You know how I know?  Because I sat on my lunch break and typed out two really long replies (one to the person who asked about my embryos, and one to the person who emailed me twice about identical twins) and I couldn't get them out of my outbox.  And I couldn't save them as drafts.  And I can't decide who is the dick: iPhone, Hotmail, or Jennepper. 

So anyway.  I need to return emails, but the only time I get to actually be on the computer is when I blog, which is now once a week if we're lucky.  Blah.  So if you're out there thinking I'm a stuck up bitch for not returning your super nice email (and wow, am I on a "everyone is nice streak" email-wise), then you're wrong. 

I'm not a stuck up bitch, I'm a dick.  Probably.

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Dear Cheryl from Redbook,

I fell in love with Jimmy Dean because of his delicious egg and cheese omelets. Not because of his...sausage.

Much Love,
Jen formerly from Redbook (sort of) but not anymore.

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The pioneer of IVF won the Nobel Prize, which is awesome.
Could we all stop calling them test tube babies already?  Before I set the world on fire or cut someone?

Also, I picked that link because I don't think it has comments.  And HOLY HELL you people should just step away from the comments, because I'm not the only dick out there, mkay?  Just...don't read them.  If you've done IVF or infertility treatments at all.  The end.

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Anonymous,

I DON'T find out if this is a sausage fest or taco party on the same day as Bev at A Baby Maybe.  She finds out one day earlier than me, even though she's due close to a month after me. 

The people at my OB are ultrasound Nazis.  I asked if I could come in early for my ultrasound:

She: Ultrasound will be at 20 weeks, so Thursday, October 7.

Me: Can I come early?  Kthxbai?

She: Well, you could come on Wednesday, I guess, but we don't do ultrasounds on Wednesdays.

Me: Tuesday?

She: NO.  KTHXBAI.

Alas.  I have to wait an extra day.  Woe is me, and I know you are all very heart broken over this.  And not to overwhelm you, but the K key on my keyboard is broken and do you realize how much you use the K?  DO YOU? 

Kthxbai,
Jennepper.

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I hate to even bring this up when I'm on such a roll of only nice comments and emails...but.  Just because someone has a public blog doesn't mean that they should lay down and allow you to take a crap on their face (a Hot Carl, as it were). 

(Did you know that there is also a Warm Carl, and a Cold Carl?  Yeah.  Me either.)

I know that it's really difficult to pull yourself away from my blog, you know, with that guy I hired standing behind you with a gun to your head FORCING YOU TO READ THIS DRIVEL!  I know that you'd much rather return to your more refined reading, about the proper use of finger bowls with dinner or which enormous hat goes with which wine. 

Or whatever. 

So anyway, if you don't like me, the feeling is probably mutual.  No need to point out the obvious.   I see why David Thorne chose the whole Go Away thing for his blog.  (Have you read his blog?  It completes me.)  Because wasting your time reading my blog and leaving nasty comments?  Makes you the idiot, not me.

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One Year Ago: Working vs. Staying at Home
Two Years Ago: I don't need you!  I don't need anyone!  I have a Snoogle!