Digirati Dad wrote about the heat the other day, but he was smart enough to collect physical evidence.

I offer my own.

Let me preface anything I say now with this: those of you who know me when I’m not carrying demon spawn know that I am a very laid-back individual.  I’m relaxed.  I don’t get stressed out.  It takes a lot to rile me.

I think that’s a sufficient disclaimer.

Last night, while hanging out on the couch (SURPRISE!), I was flipping around and caught Tori and Dean: Inn Love on.. some station.  I honestly don’t know.  But it chronicled Tori Spelling and her husband, Dean.. Spelling, as they set out to open their own bed and breakfast.

I LOVED those guys.  They are such real people, and their banter reminds me (a LOT) of myself and Bryan.  For instance, while making red velvet cupcakes (mmmmm), Dean would dip a knife in the batter and pretend he had stabbed himself.  We would TOTALLY do that.  While drinking.

This particular episode featured Tori when she was about at my stage of pregnancy.  And while baking those same said cupcakes, she realized she didn’t have a flour sifter.  And she got SOOOOO mad.  Like, crazy angry.  And I thought, “Thank God I haven’t had those crazy hormones.”

When nine o’clock rolled around and Bryan still wasn’t home.. it crept up on me.  I got CRAZY angry.  I’m still angry, quite honestly.  But I’m not mad at Bryan.  Not really, anyway.  I’m pissed off that I can’t do anything .. not a freakin’ thing .. because it’s 105 outside.  I’ve given up all of my extracurricular activities so I can sit on my ass, get fat, and sweat in places you’re tired of hearing about.  I haven’t done anything productive since APRIL, people.. APRIL.. and there’s nothing on the horizon.  And he gets to run off and be useful?!  If I get real inspired, I might sweep the house (AGAIN) or scrub the bathroom (AGAIN) or maybe even bake something (AGAIN).  I’m so bored, I can’t see straight.  And there’s no end in sight.  Even at night, even when we’ve hit our “low”, it’s still 80.  My hair is not behaving, I weigh a thousand and two pounds (in each breast), and I’m SO OVER being pregnant.

I just keep thinking about how every pregnancy movie ever has that portion, right before the birth of the baby, where the mom goes apeshit over something really stupid.  And I don’t want to be that girl.  But I am.  Here.  Now.

Like the essential movie, Knocked Up, says, “FUCK YOU, HORMONES!”

Edit: Okay, so reading the quotes from that movie REALLY made me laugh.

This has been a gripe of mine for YEARS.  So instead of griping, I blog.