I am Rosemary's Baby.

Last night's Open House was a bust. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. I did still net some profit before and after the Open Houses, though, which is good. We'll see what happens tomorrow morning.

I really want to go to Iowa tomorrow. There will be so many of the family at the internment in Montrose that I have not seen in years. It would be a wonderful, yet brief, opportunity to reconnect. Plus, I love Southern Iowa. My days on the farm during the summer growing up were some of the best I can remember. Barn jumping, ATV riding and catfish hunting. My best stories are borne from my experiences in Iowa. Love it.

I got my haircut yesterday. I always do this. I try try try to grow my hair out and I fail, because I have zero patience for such a tediously annoying task! So I did a quick search online to find the perfect cut, and I found it, of course. I wanted my hair to look similar to Michelle William's look in the October Vogue issue, but the hairstylist cut it too short and now it looks more like Mia Farrow circa Rosemary's Baby. Sure, I can pull it off, I have before. But I was still sad because it isn't as cute as MW's cut. Oh well, hair grows.

On the big plus side, my morning routine has gone from 45 minutes to like...18 minutes. Talk about sweet.

Best moment of the night though was telling my husband that I was attacked by a poop peanut, care of our daughter, Afton. He looked at me like I had lost my mind, until I explained that while changing Afton's diaper, a poop covered peanut fell out and landed right on my foot.

Watching Rudy writhe and gag on the floor makes the grossness soo worth it.

Ostrich Monster.

Some days I wish I could bury my head in the sand and just hide out, except I'd like to be invisible too, so someone doesn't come a-knockin' on my butt asking me why I've done gone insane.

People are dropping like flies!

On Saturday, Uncle Don had to be unhooked from his life support and on Sunday, he died. It's been a tough few weeks, dealing with crazy, emotional family members and the mysteriously vague illness that attacked Uncle Don and ultimately killed him. He was 83.

Then, on Monday, a good friend of my family calls to inform us that her father, a great friend of my grandparents, has been stuck in the hospital with a raging case of staphylococcus. The staph infection is so bad that it weakened his immune system enough to kick his pre-leukemia into a full-blown stage infinity leukemia. He has three months. What the hell, man?

Oh, and have I mentioned I am moving to Tempe? As in Arizona? Another one of our amazingly split-second decisions which will most likely render our little family just a slight bit crazier than we already were.

If luck is upon me (which it almost never is), my two Holiday Open Houses this week will be a lovely payoff. I am excited and nervous, as I have no idea how many people are actually going to show up. I'm trying not to set myself up for disappointment, because I am told open houses can be very tame. We'll see. I attempted to advertise as much as humanly possible. Go Mary Kay!

Otherwise I find that I thoroughly dislike working at the Club now. I am so over bartending and serving. I want something better!

Go me!

Distressing.

I can be obsessive sometimes. Not just your run-of-the-mill obsessiveness, but rather the more hardcore-can'tsleepcauseI'llforgetwhatI'mobsessingabout kind of obsessiveness.

On Facebook, for the past three days, someone was asking about the H1N1 shot and how she wasn't sure she was going to get it and her friends were saying the same thing, but no one had anything remotely relevant to say!

There were zero facts supporting their opinions, and their opinions were often based on myth and rumor.

This immediately sparked obsession, and since the person's friends didn't seem to give two shits about what I was saying, I finally researched about eight different sources of information about the flu, flu shot and everything in between and wrote a huge-ass note in hopes that everyone will read it, get educated, and stop pestering me with complete idiocy!

IDIOCY I TELL YOU.

Now, if after they read all my materials they still opt against the shot, I won't hold it against them, because at least it will now be an informed decision and not one based on what they heard from their sister's mother's cousin's hairdresser.

Talk about annoying.

Because I Can't.

I am Karly. I am a woman. I am fat and pregnant and about to get fatter and even more pregnant.

I am a bartender. I sling drinks for the privileged few and the pompous many who just think they're privileged. I am popular for not being an ugly bitch.

I am a student. I love school but am finding my ego deflated because I'm apparently not as smart as I once was.

I am bored. Unmotivated. Lazy. Sad. How do I take the step I keep screaming at myself to take? I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm sure I will when time is ready for me to move on. Until then I'll just be happy I can keep on taking Wellbutrin through my pregnancy, because hormones are not my friend and I am not a fan of feeling suicidal during my first trimester.

Life does get better, right?

When Life Runs You Over.

Ugh. I really wish summer was over and everyone was back at home and normalcy was the name of the game. My poor little brain just can't handle anything more right now.

I've been on Wellbutrin for almost one month now, and some days I feel like it's working, and other days not so much. But the whole thing could be a very complicated, compounded issue involving supermassive black holes of stress and pure evilness. The wedding was great, and jumping out of an airplane was absolutely amazing. Spontaneously jumping in the Club pool with my co-workers all clad in underwear was equally exciting. But they all seem to pale in comparison to the amount of hours of work and preparation that went into the do-it-yourself, budget wedding and all the meals that fed the extended family while they were here. Then you can add the shingles I developed three days before the ceremony for the second time (note: I also had chickenpox twice, go fig.), a job I only just started two weeks before the ceremony because I am obviously an idiot, and an assload of homework that I couldn't even remotely look at, let alone accomplish completion.

...

And when things were finally starting to settle down, my grandpa dies.

So what do I do? I don't even know! I am fairly certain I have an ulcer digging a hole straight through my stomach, because after the pain and the vomiting and the trip to the doctor who tells me my appendix is A-OK, I just assume that could be the only reason why my stomach is continuing to be the bane of my existence.

Well, I haven't bothered to read this over, but I am most assured that everything above this line is pure gibberish. And I am totally fine with it.

I'm Mexican!

Ok, not exactly by birth, but I am officially part Mexican in name. As in Karly Gomez. Yup, that's right my fellow readers, I have tied the knot.

Wasted

I spent five hours doing mostly nothing. I'm not certain why I was ever nervous in the first place.
My first day back working in almost one year. So much has happened in the interim that anxiety over my abilities damn near took over.

I am tired. A little uncertain. But I think this is good.

Early to bed tonight, and I will sleep well, I am certain.