Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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I Gotta Have More CowBell!

Dear God am I sick! But not with morning sickness. I have a cold. A miserable, head-pounding, sniveling, snorting, snotting, can't breathe, can't sleep COLD. Would have called in sick but my very dear friend Mike Runge was inducted into the Utah Broadcasters Hall of Fame and I wouldn't miss that for the world. The man is a peach. For all you Utahns who are familiar with Runge Time, the man is as good as they come.

As far as morning sickness goes (knock on wood) nada. Nothing! I am thrilled beyond belief. I'm sure it'll hit me like a freight train, but for now the only symptoms I'm noticing; hungry every three hours. Hungry as in - if I don't get something in my stomach right now I will FREAK OUT. And my boobs. They're sore. Sore like I spent last night bench-pressing weights at the gym.

At work the other day I was talking to a guy whose wife is 8 months pregnant. He didn't know I was pregnant and the conversation went thusly;
How's your wife?
Dude, don't ever get pregnant. You would not BELIEVE the stuff that happens to your body!
Like, what do you mean?
I can't even talk about it. Just don't get pregnant.

He was kidding, kind of. But seriously, am dreading the Bad Things that he and my girlfriends have alluded to. My best girl Natalie once said 'the shit pregnancy does to your body will blow your mind.' Yeesh. The only thing I'm doing thus far is rubbing more cocoa butter on my body than Aaron Neville on the beach. Sorry about that, was kind of a sucky comparison. Unless you're familiar with Horatio Sanz version of Neville on Saturday Night Life. Shit cracks me up every time. Speaking of Saturday Night Live, I was driving in my car the other day and kept saying I GOTTA HAVE MORE COW BELL and cracking myself up. Emotional much? YES. I notice myself tearing up over everything. I knew it was out of hand when I was on my way to work yesterday and I got all choked up over a Kid Rock song. Bawitaba. Yes, really. It came on and I hear MY NAME IS KIIIIIIIIID! I seriously got all choked up about Kid Rock. I'm like, yes Kid your name is Kid and you've come a long way from those days rapping in suburban Detroit. You go, Kid! Oh boy, if I'm all verklempt over Bawitaba I can't imagine how nuts I'll go if something really emotional happens, like, oh, say Britney Spears earns back custody of her kids.

Oh! Did I tell you my due date? Only like, possibly THE coolest date in American history except it hasn't happened yet. January 20, 2009. Can you guess? It's the end of an error! January 20, 2009 is Barack Obama's inauguration! What's that? He hasn't even earned the nomination yet? You wait, just wait. Hmmmm... What do you think about Obama Bielanko? It definitely has a ring to it, not quite a Will Ferrell On Cowbell ring, but it definitely has that (jazz hands!) special something. Kidding! I ain't naming my kid Obama. Or am I? Am I just that nuts? Perhaps.

Love! Monica has a fever and the only prescription is more cowbell!