I want to go home!!! Plus my biological clock.

May 03, 2007

You know what really SUCKS about this stupid shift I work? Thursday freakin' nights, that's what sucks. It's 10:38, still more than an hour I have to sit here and work on the Unit, a perfectly fine show that I couldn't care less about because OMG CSI I WANT IT NOW OMG! And I want to read all about it on all my message boards but then I'll ruin all the fun surprise and that's just not good for me.

Don't worry, kids. Just 2 more weeks of my crazy fangirl ranting and then we can all move on with our lives. Next week is Lady Heather, then there's the finale, and then I will turn off my TV for the summer and write the novel that will make me millions. Sound good?

OMG WANT TO GO HOME NOW NOW NOW!

Anyway. Here's a blog I posted on myspace earlier, because I'm awesome like that:

Did I say I wasn't gonna do this whole blog thing anymore? I lied.

What I really want to share with the world is that last night, I watched my boyfriend's Boston Terrier give birth to 6 puppies. Actually, she wouldn't really let me watch her, but I did see at least one of them, um, come out.

It was completely fascinating and utterly disgusting, and I absolutely could not look away. Josh was all, "whatevs, seen it before," but I have not. We've always had our female dogs, bitches if you will, fixed. So this was a brand new experience for me.

Iris, the doggy, didn't make a single noise throughout the whole process. She did look terribly uncomfortable, but that's understandable when you have 6 little bodies coming out of you. Every puppy is alive, and every single one of them are black. We still are unsure of Baby Daddy. It's a big scandal.

Maybe I was so fascinated because I have yet to give much thought to the whole birthing process, although I do wish for it to happen, preferably in the next, oh, 10 years. I have zero desires to have a kid at this point in my life. I mean, have you seen my car? My apartment? Any space that I am in for more than 5 minutes? I am a mess, y'all. But still, that inevitable ticking clock is still there. And while I can blissfully ignore it for at least a few more years, I know one day it will ring loudly in my ear and I will wake up and say "GIVE ME SOME BABY, DAMNIT!"
I mean, when my mom was my age, 27, she had been married for 7 years and was about to have her first child.

I tend to enjoy puppies more than babies, but put a baby in my lap and I'm all "MUST HAVE ONE NOW!" So I know that frackin' clock is ticking. I hear it, loud and clear. But for now, I am content to work, read CSI fanfiction, eat pizza, and ignore that stupid little clock. For now.

And there is a new CSI tonight and apparently there will be a scene involving a dog and Grissom and Sara and a bed and a letter, and seriously, my head just might explode from all the wonderfulness of it all. I just might spontaneously combust. It's true.