What Not to Say

The director of my department has been here for less than a year. Super nice dude with a penchant for long-windedness and excessive formality, which made what just transpired extra weird. He's from another country so he has a pronounced accent. Accordingly, assign the accent of your choice to the below interaction. 

Director: I learned you are expecting! Congratulations! Give me a hug!
Me: Thank you! Um, okay. *commence awkward hug*
Director: You are how far along? You are not exercising, are you?
Me: 26 weeks, and I am. I just do my usual yoga, nothing too strenuous.
Director: Oh, because my wife, she was a workout freak and because of it, she lost our child recently.
Me: Oh gosh, I'm so sorry about your baby!
Director: Yes. She was always running (he runs in place, tie flapping) and lifting weights (he mimes weightlifting, huffing and puffing his cheeks) and I followed her around the gym sometimes asking her to cool it (he outstretches his arms as if in supplication), but she would not. And then the baby died. So don't you exercise too hard! No running, it will fall right out!
Me: .......
Director: It was probably my boy, too. You are having a boy?
Me: *nod*
Director: Oh, that is such a joy for your husband! I have had three girls. Such a disappointment.
Me: Oh but, nobody can love you quite like your little girls can! I'm sure they adore you.
Director: The younger two, they are okay. The oldest, all she says to me is "Hey! Can I have some money." Well no, it doesn't work like that! But you don't have to worry, you are having a boy. It is so important for a man to have his boy.


Some thoughts--
*As long as a woman has a workout routine firmly-established, continuing it throughout a pregnancy is generally accepted as fine with a doctor's okay.
*However, on what planet is it okay to trash one's wife, who actually suffered the miscarriage, for such a tragedy?
*Why would someone share such an intimate story with a subordinate one barely knows?
*Do not scold me for engaging in something as low-impact as yoga. Ever.
*What if I was having a girl?
*Did he not notice that I am female, which is how I'm able to carry a child in the first place, and therefore someone else's daughter? A much-loved one, I might add.
*Despite my laughing in disbelief as I tell this story, I have to say-- what a terribly, terribly sad man.
*And how much sadder is his wife to be married to someone who blames her so completely that he'd feel free to tell me about it?

As he walked away, I noticed his pant leg was hooked up over the garter on his sock, showing the back of his bristly calf. A result of the running in place. It looked stupid. But I didn't say anything.

I'll give you a McBeej for em.

Fittingly, this story followed my recent post about the crack-like dangers of the blissfully revolting chicken McNugget.

I mean, SERIOUSLY?? What the fuck is in these things?

And I have to admit that I experienced an olfactory memory and immediately wanted to eat a nugget (or twenty) the instant I looked at the picture on the webpage. Salty, crispy goodness. GAWD. I disgust myself.

Fucking Malbec

I just ordered $70 worth of extra cute clothes off Modcloth.com because I am damn near wasted and STILL avoiding this stupid easy paper! I wonder if there are any typos in the 3/4 I have managed to finish. It's seriously idiot-proof-- the instructions are "Re-write this paragraph in cogent sentences." I can't wait to expound upon the the laughs I regularly get out of this class. You'll see!

I hope I don't regret this tomorrow. That dress IS really cute and and those tights DO have a lot of reviews affirming how adorable and warm and winter-friendly they are (no, I'm not wearing them together). This better not be like that time I blacked out from vodka and pineapple juice and was found by my snotty ass roommates with a credit card and a dildo on the desk. That was embarrassing. Except I guess that time I woke up on my mom's couch next to a letter from her I didn't understand because my capacity for English had disappeared, and this time I'll wake up in time for work with a stabby brain-stem headache and hoping I have some Alka Seltzer Morning Relief in my desk. (That shit's gold, folks.)

Oops, wine glass is empty.

You put a what in your where??

Here on Gini & Tonic, we only have marginal boundaries, and as I get older, those boundaries seem to weaken further and further. And so it is with only a modicum of apprehension that I share with you the following.


I'll spare you the gory details, but basically I got a little too kinky recently and now something weird is going on downstairs. I am aware that I could request a visit my internist to have something prescribed, but that would take weeks because it's the Med Center and it always takes weeks, and then I would smell like glue for awhile and only after another cycle would I be back to normal. Alternately, I could go to Planned Parenthood and presumably be seen before Friday, but I'm pretty sure I don't fit their minimum requirements, i.e. I don't have Juicy stamped across my ass (thanks rl) and I actually make more than $5.25 an hour. However, that option is equally a no-option because dammit, I am not interested in missing work for this bullshit. So instead I turned to the interwebs because Google has all the answers and really, I should be able to fix this shit at home.


And it turns out I can! All I have to do is soak a tampon in yogurt and let my vagina snack on it!


I actually read a bit about this on Nicole's blog and was like WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYBODY DO SUCH A BIZARRE THING! Clearly I had no idea I would also be riding the yogurt wave one short month later out of a desperate desire for my sweet-smelling muffin to return to me. Thanks a lot for holding out, Google. Well. At least now I can just sit on a yogurt-bathed tampon in peace and broadcast it to internet friends instead of to a judgey doctor.


Behold:

Yes indeed, that's what you think it is. Low-fat because my girl is plump enough already, thanks. Husband isn't home or he'd be all "what in the fucking fuck fuck are you doing??" And then I'd offer him a bite.


Hm...I wonder if he'd accept or if he'd be too weirded out? Anyway, onward and upward!

UPDATE: This totally worked!! Homegirl is fresh as an angel's whisper!