smellslikeawesome

Happy 8 months!

1 more and our kid will be born.

Happy 6 months!

In the past week, whenever someone asks me “how long has it been?” and I answer with “6 months”, they say “woah, what already?”

And the thing is, for me, I feel almost exactly the same way. Woah, what, already? Has it really been half a year since I went to Monash to be serenaded by you? (Yes I will forever bring that up to embarrass you.) Has it really been (over) half a year since that late night phone call where I asked “how long are we going to keep beating around the bush” when it became so obvious we liked each other?

The past 6 months went by so quickly - maybe because it was the summer holidays, but I prefer to be slightly more romantic about it - that monthly anniversaries seemed to happen every other week. I remember we promised to celebrate 1 month, then 3, then 6, then every year only, and I thought “wow, those milestones seem so far apart!” but here we are!

I’ll stop writing now because I can hear my followers projectile vomiting.

Here’s to a year!

/edit I had to go to bed before midnight. Wuuut. So yeah 30 mins early.

I’ve learned to hold a sneeze in until I can unmute myself on Skype and sneeze loudly into the microphone.

Happy 5 months my darling.

Day Thirty Two

tissuepaperbear:

HI HI! This is Alex (shameless plug) guest blogging the last day of January, except I’ll try to write it from Amelia’s point of view, because, you know, her life, and stuff.

So after a long day prior, and my apparent nocturnal genetic coding, I woke up around 9:20 for a 10 am checkout. That is not to say, however, that that was the only time I woke up; throughout the entire night, Alex persisted in waking me up with her needy scrabbling for hugs and cuddles. Damn, bitch, I’m tryin’a sleep here. Also, we left the air conditioning on, and the blanket was made from sort of heat trapping material, and being the piss-weak sleeper that my damn bitch is, she kept on tossing and turning from being too cold to too warm. Damn, bitch, basic rule of physics say when you move, the bed moves too. And, let’s not forget her pea-sized bladder. Honestly. Bitch probably drank a small sip, and got up to pee thrice in one night.

I jest, I jest; Alex is not a bitch. I mean, 4.5 months in, right? I can’t hate her yet, right?

Right?

Anyway, after an entire night of bladder emptying and body-temperature control tactics, the alarm went off way too early, and damn bitch was by my ear nagging and nagging me to get up because we’d be late otherwise. Hell, how do you expect me to be even conscious in the single digits, much less pack up? So, as I sat numbly on the bed trying to pull together two brain cells, damn bitch flew around the hotel room with her inhuman morning cheeriness. I think she sucked my essence in the night. I mean. How else could someone be so energetic?

The TV was turned on for to rouse me into further brain activity, and I Dream of Genie was on. I stared at the glowing screen depicting sexist and ill-written jokes from the 70s while the laugh-track cluttered around my head like a broken lawn mower engine. The bitch, being finally useful in the context of domesticity, managed to work the toaster enough to serve me some edible cooked bread with Vegemite on top. As I struggled to put together the Tetris game that is my bag, the bitch washed up all the cutlery and dishes, and we managed to get to the front desk to check out just in time.

Well, having been ejected into the cold and miserable side of Melbourne, we found ourselves still hungry and now shivering. I, with my first class memory, recalled the need to purchase the mustacheo’d rabbit from the previous day. We trekked through the wind tunnel that is QV, only to see, much to our dismay, that the store remain unyielding until at least 11. With over 40 minutes to wait, I felt my strength being sapped by the icy gusts whipping at my bare and sensual legs, and thus took my bitch to Big W to purchase leggings.

Having purchased black leggings which I know would only draw more attention to the curvature of my blessed legs, we made our way to State Library, wherein we could put our ridiculously heavy belongings for safekeeping until we were to depart the city. Having hired a locker and offloaded our crap, we hustled onto a tram towards Flinders Street Station for my first experience on Degraves Street.

This is where my vivid description will drop off, as my ghost writer has not and cares not to better her skills in writing food. So. We ate food. We got full. It was nice.

My bitch, who I speculate to be struck by the disease known as “Check-in-itis”, publicized our whereabouts, leading to her friend Dani to call her and pinpoint our location. As it was, Dani was in the cafe next door to ours. We finished our nice food and good coffee, and headed to the neighboring coffee-joint for a quick hidey-ho to Dani-rino. She was drinking soy Chai tea. What a fag.

Skipping right back to QV, the small hand was at the 11 and the big at the 12. We entered the store with the bunny-mo, and purchased a cute little critter (which we learned to be named Labbit) for my dear friend Eileen. Noting that perhaps further elaboration and effort might be required for such a dear friend, we crossed the road to Melbourne Central for to further our elaboration and effort. At the same time, I was overcome with the need to own a pair of Converse Chucks, having seen David Tennant don a pair on Doctor Who. Yet when I scanned the shelves, non caught my hipster fancy. I don’t understand it, but it seemed that Alex started choking on the irony. We also searched for the furthering of elaboration and effort, but to no avail.

Alex was drawn in by the Volume display of headphones, and demanded in her childish and ultra-needy fashion to try some out. In her excitement, the idiot left Labbit lying about. Thankfully, I, with my super-ultra-mega-awesome memory, realized the horrifying mistake, and returned to retrieve the plushie without further incident.

Alex became even more ultra-needy, and demanded that she need to consume more of the cheeseballs that we had the night prior. So, journeying back to State Library, we consumed cheeseballs and watched Fullmetal Alchemist in the lobby, as the food was not allowed inside the main body of the library. When the pig had had her share of the disgusting snack, we ventured into the library for to continue watching in more comfort.

The clock’s hand struck the deadline for our locker, and we retrieved our items and started our journey home. I consumed a mini hotdog from Lord of the Fries, which promptly fell apart in my hands and greased through the paper bag. We watched a bit more of FMA on the train, and the needy whiny bitch made me stay behind with her so I’d have to catch a later bus, but not leave her by herself.

Well, the needy bitch really screwed up there, because the later bus saw a creep sit right next to me for the entire trip and, when I dozed off, tried to grope me. I awoke to his hand stroking my thigh while hiding underneath his bag…and my own bag was pushed aside in his disgusting bid to do so. I’m sure the needy bitch felt immensely sickened and sorry that her neediness lead to this.

Upon my return, my blue dog was overcome with joy, for I had been away for over 24 hours. Oh to behold my beloved pup again warms me to my core. Or so my ghost writer imagines, not being allowed to own a pet and all.

Some more stuff probably happened later that night but the ghost writer was not provided with information thus.

31.01.12

Guys I wrote this. Guys. You should check out the rest of her blog tho cos it’s like. It’s got me in it. And puppy. So yeah. GUYS.

MELA DOESN’T KNOW WHAT PHOENIX WRIGHT IS

GUYS WHAT DO I DO

She says “What is so good about this game? It’s just some lawyer thing.”

/edit SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT PROFESSOR LAYTON IS EITHER

I cannot…even…no…why