SNAPE KILLED DUMBLEDORE.

No spoilers, huh? HOW DO YOU LIKE THOSE APPLES, FUCKERS?

Seriously, am sick of this New Moon nonsense. It's all well and good for people and communities to post about it, that's what they do. But LJ, PLEASE DO NOT PUT SPARKLY SHIT IN MY WRITER'S BLOCK K THANKS.

Too lazy to write proper entry.

HAVE SOME DOT POINTS. Well, they're actually little + signs because I think they are totally cute.

+ Have booked my 12 week Nuchal Translucency/dating/whatever scan for 21st of December, at some ungodly hour of the morning. ACTUALLY, to be truthful, the hospital received my forms and told ME that was my appointment. TOO BAD IF YOU CAN'T MAKE IT, BE THERE WITH A FULL BLADDER OR ELSE.
+ Do strongly suspect twins ... and Adam's cousin (a doctor) says that high levels of Folate can create multiple pregnancies. Guess what Tam was mainlining while she was weaning off her meds? That's right, FOLATE, AND LOTS OF IT. Like, ten times the normal dose. Whoooops. When I got my bloodwork back, my folate levels were through the fucking roof. Husband has made me agree to name twins Fred and George if I do have twins on board and they turn out to boys. Agreed because that is kinda epic and they are nice names.
+ I now have ginger anti-nausea NINJA PILLS. They actually do work, and I am supper happy, weeeeeeeeee.
+ My doctor has given me one of those spiffy mental health plan things that entitles you to free shit like counselling visits. Fun.
+ I went swimming today, like a good girl. Desperately wanted to hang out in the spa, but fairly sure that high temperatures = cooked babby = not good.
+ Found this great stuff that you put on your sore, burny nipples: lanolin ointment. ONLY PROBLEM: IT FUCKING SMELLS EXACTLY LIKE EAR WAX, AND IS DISTURBINGLY SIMILAR TO IT IN COLOUR. This crap is also for breastfeeding Mummas, and apparently does not need to be removed before breastfeeding. HANG ON A MOMENT. If you can't get a kid to eat gross vegies like brussel sprouts, TELL ME HOW you are going to get an infant to suck your EAR WAX FLAVOURED NIPPLE? Hmmm.
+ Whilst on the subject of my nipples (because that's what you ALL WANT TO HEAR ABOUT, RIGHT?) ... they do seem to be doing well in their attempt to take over my boobs in a bloodless coup. They must have clapped eye on some dinner plates and said to each other, "you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? WE TOTALLY NEED TO BE THAT BIG."

That's enough for now.

On Sunday, I OBTAINED THE MOST AWESOME SUGAR PAYLOAD like EVER.

A GIANT WIZZ-FIZZ SHOWBAG.


We're talking major sugar high, people, glitter text is indeed warranted in this situation.

Fighting off the OMG NAUSEAAAAS is like battling a war on multiple fronts, you guise. SERIOUSLY. And something that worked yesterday? Probably won't work today, sorry to say. Vegemite was working like a charm for a few days, but now I'm like OMG KEEP THAT BROWN MUCK THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME UNLESS YOU'D LIKE TO WEAR A TECHNICOLOUR VOMIT DREAM-COAT.

You go with what works, right? SO WHAT IF THE HAEMORRHOID WIPES ARE THE ONLY THINGS THAT STOP MY NIPPLES FROM SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTING? They smell nice AND THEY ARE OH SO SOOTHING. Shut the fuck up. Oh, and in case it isn't IMMEDIATELY OBVIOUS, I'm still a cranky fucking bitch. THANKS FOR ASKING, KINDLY STEP TO THE LEFT WHERE YOU WILL FIND THE TRAPDOOR LEADING TO MY SHARK TANK.

Here's something that I think is really funny. Before I got preggers, people were forever asking me when I was due. Because my bloated stomach totally looked like it was concealing at least one large sized baby (in addition to some electronic goods and the entire Harry Potter series of novels). Now that I am pregnant, NOT A SINGLE PERSON HAS COMMENTED. For the record? My stomach is still bloated as hell. I look like the Octomum - one real baby and SEVEN FOOD BABIES ON BOARD, PEOPLE.

On top of all this, I feel even more guilty about hating early pregnancy - after someone I know went through a very traumatic miscarriage. She went along to her 14-week scan and the baby had been dead since the 8th week. That is just fucking devastating. So, not only am I a cranky fucking bitch, I am an ungrateful one at that. Yes, I know that this awful nausea (and all of its little friends) are a good sign that my baby is strong and healthy - presumably getting ready to kick the crap out of my colon at the first opportunity. That doesn't change the fact that the nausea + the sore boobage + the bitchiness + the fatigue + the wretched heat = woe is Tam.

Saw my doctor on Thursday, and she is at least 989 different kinds of awesome. My pregnancy, due to my previous mental health issues, is going to be managed as high-risk. I am at an extremely high risk of both ante- and post- natal depression. I will also have to have my stupid thyroid medicated and monitored. This is Tam's newest entourage, people ... there's going to be weekly doctor's visits, counselling, psychiatrist visits, hospital visits, endocrinologist visits, a plethora of blood tests, midwives, scans and a whole circus of activity. Set sail for FUN TIMES AHEAD.

Funny thing is, though, unlike a lot of women who really hate their first trimester of pregnancy ... I still feel connected to my baby and my pregnancy. I am still excited about meeting my little one at the other end of another seven or so months. I suppose that I see all this shit as a necessary purgatory, I still see the light at the end of this shitty tunnel. To be honest, I feel like I have been a little depressed, but it doesn't feel like the type that sets in and hangs around like a pack of dementors. That's something, I suppose :)

Now to get off my arse and fill my scripts and book appointments and shit ... weeeeeee.

Probably not ... it may sound crazy, but I get "vibes" (good or bad) from different locations, and I wouldn't be able to live with the impact of a previous murder. There was a "brutal murder house" around the corner from my house growing up (it was on my paper route) and I could barely stand to walk across its lawn to stick a pamphlet in the box, it was just so creepy. The occupants must have agreed, as it was CONSTANTLY for sale and constantly churning through owners O.o

Furthermore, I have actually lived in a house where I am sure some sort of violent crime had been committed. It literally haunted me, imagine a little four year old deathly scared of rape and murder! It was a really bad neighbourhood, and that particular ouse was just awful, the nightmares that started there have stayed with me for life.

Rent free on the other hand? No, probably still wouldn't do it. There's no such thing as a (ghost) free lunch!

Would I think twice if neighbours said it was haunted? Yes, but I'd want to make my OWN impression about the local inhabitants ;) . Some ghosts are actually quite pleasant to live with ... my Mum's rental a few years back had a real sweet one, could definitely live with that one. Even the cats loved this little ghostie, they used to spend all their time in what was "her" room.

I would like to sum-up the pregnancy hormone situation with this little picture I made on one of those make-your-own warning signs websites (Introducing Pregzilla):



Seriously. I've never been so fucking grumpy and bitchy in my whole life. I'm pissed off because my tummy hurts. I'M PISSED OFF BECAUSE MY TITS HURT. I'M EVEN MORE PISSED OFF BECAUSE IT IS HOT ENOUGH TO MELT ANTARTICA AND I FEEL LIKE MY STOMACH IS TRYING TO CRAWL UP MY OESOPHAGUS BACKWARDS.

Everything changes when you fall pregnant. Your body, almost like the proverbial dormant volcano, suddenly awakens wth a bang (well, AFTER a bang morelike) and these scary, seismic changes start taking place. I wasn't, however, expecting the DARK GREEN SHIT. Why my colon has suddenly expressed an artistic talent, of sorts, can probably be explained: there is enough iron in my pregnancy vitamins to seriously fuck with my bowels.

Meanwhile, my nipples are currently devising an evil plot to take over the world. Phase One: attempt to expand to size of entire breast. I don't know what Phase Two entails, and I'm a bit wary about finding out ... :/

Did I mention that it is hot? It is so fucking hot that I sent a pleading e-mail to my real-estate agent BEGGING that they do something about this fucking heat before the PREGZILLA KILLING SPREE begins. They are going to fix up the insulation in the house, to begin with, hopefully that will make a difference. Someone told me that they are expecting that we will see at least THREE CONSECUTIVE DAYS THIS SUMMER OF OVER 50 DEGREE HEAT. That's 120 Farenheit, a.k.a YES, THERE IS SOMETHING WORSE THAN MAN-BEAR-PIG FROM THIS GLOBAL WARMING BUSINESS.

I have also just had my FIRST MAJOR PREGNANCY SCARE. *CUE DRAMATIC MUSIC* ... we have reports of brown coloured mucous (yeah, yeah, TMI but the whole pregnancy thing is a bonanza of TMI goodness). I'm trying not to freak out *too* much about OMG MISCARRIAGE because a) if I am about to miscarry, which is a process that sucks at the best of time, being anxious and upset isn't going to help because b) it was never meant to be, and no amount of carrying on is going to keep that baby in there if it has to come out and c) it's just too hot to get caught up in any kind of wharrgarbl.

Doctors appointment is tomorrow. Guess I will find out more then. Mmmm, air-conditioned doctor's office, here I come!!

So maybe this might be the last preggo entry for this baby, or one of many more to come. Either way, I'm a strong believer in fate - and what is meant to be, will be.

I acquired these the other day, and they are JUST TOO CUTE:



That is all. For now.

Oh, my.

In my travels on YouTube (it started with kittens, ventured into spiders, then somehow ended up here) ... I found this little gem of a video. Watch right to the very end ;)



About 3 things I was absolutely positive.

First, Edward was an extremely frustrated virgin/paedophile/stalker a fictional vampire whose mere existance could invite teenagers to cream their pants played by Cedric Diggory Robert Pattinson.
Second, there was a part of Tam, and I didn't know how dominant that part might be, that was dangerously bored. And totally talking about herself in the third person now, talk about creepy.
And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably amused by the lulz provided by Google, and I have decided to share some treasures with you ...

( Click link, receive bacon, lulz, and a dose of the clap: )

My cousin and I went shopping today, and I resisted the (incredibly compelling) urge to load up on baby clothes and other paraphernalia. Seeing as we can't smoke/drink/shoot-up, we pregnant ladies develop our own extremely dangerous addiction: ridiculously over-priced baby crap.

Would someone please explain to me why I would, whilst completely sober and in complete control of my mental faculties, pay over ONE THOUSAND BIG ONES for a goddamned pram??. You can kindly get fucked, unless said pram can change shitty nappies and take over the night shift. Then you can have your people call my people and hook me the fuck up with one of those wanky Bugaboo Frog thingeys. Yeah, didn't think so. It's just a fucking pram, right? Something I will only get a few years' use out of, if that. Pram Prerequisites: must be safe (must not sling baby in the air like the ACME coyote), must not be *too* ugly (or baby may puke on it just to improve its aesthetic appeal) and must not require its own mortgage or sale of parental organs to finance it.

It's for the same reason that I refuse to pay more for a cot (that my baby will chew, shit in, and puke on) than I would for an adult bed. DO I HAVE *CHUMP* TATTOOED ON MY FORE-HEAD? Do you think that I'm stupid enough to believe that it must cost nearly $2,000 to be safe? THAT ONLY BAD MOTHERS REFUSED TO HAND OVER THE CASHOLA? Honey, if I pay that much just for the cot, there will be no HOUSE for the cot to sit in.

Is there a RATIONAL EXPLANATION for the fact that Up The Duff by Kaz Cooke is TEN DOLLARS MORE at Borders than it was at another store? ... Why this particular book has to be FIFTY DOLLARS anyway? Fuck off. Will borrow a copy. Why does a skinny little pregnancy magazine cost $8? Whoops, already made the mistake of purchasing a massive pile of over-priced glossy wedding magazines. MANY TREES HAVE DIED, R.I.P. TREES. NO MORE WILL DIE ON MY WATCH.

AND IF YOU THINK I AM GOING TO PAY $80 FOR A BABY DRESS THE SIZE OF A NAPKIN THEN YOU ARE SERIOUSLY DELUSIONAL AND SHOULD PROBABLY SEE SOMEONE ABOUT THAT.

It also goes without saying that I'm totally NOT going to pay the designer prices for maternal gear, either. For just $40, I scored myself a cute pair of 3/4 length maternity jeans today - they're comfy and they hold in my already massive gut quite nicely, thank you very much. MY SECRET? TARGET IS YOUR REASONABLY PRICED FRIEND. Target also has cheap (and good quality) baby clothes, accessories, cots, prams and almost everything else you would need. Except the baby itself, but I've totally got that bit wrapped up. BRB, WORSHIPPING AT THE ALTAR OF TARGET.

DISCLAIMER: Before I commence my epic preggo whinge, I'm going to come right out and say how bad I feel whingeing about this stuff when there are want-to-be mums out there who would give their right leg to be hanging over a toilet bowl puking their spleen out and/or nursing burning nipples. I feel bad, sure, but many will agree with me on this one: the first 12 weeks of pregnancy can be an absolute clusterfuck of badness.

START EPIC WHINGE
Here's what's pissing me off right now:
- Burn, baby, Burn NIPPLE INFERNO: Fucking HELL, these babies are burning so much that I'm thinking that the Fire Danger in my suburb has to be increased if they go near anything flammable. Imagine explaining how THAT fire started. My cousin's doctor told her to GO OUTSIDE AND TAN HER NIPPLES EACH DAY TO STRENGTHEN THEM. Uh, NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. My asshole neighbours are not going to get a free nipple show. MAYBE IF THEY INVITED US TO SWIM IN THEIR GODDAMN POOL, THINGS WOULD BE DIFFERENT.
- I'm on the Yellow Puke Road: ... I just know it. This nausea is about to be upgraded from Incredibly Annoying Queasies to ALERT ALERT EXORCIST-STYLE PROJECTILE PUKING DETECTED any day now. Eating is an absolute challenge, and the queasies seem to be getting worse with every passing hour. Almost lost my cookies three times today, so it's a matter of "when" rather than "if" ... CLEAR THE AISLES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, SHE'S ABOUT TO BLOOOOOOOOW.
- Angry Bitch Syndrome: HOLY FUCK, I JUST CANNOT HELP BITING THE HEAD OFF ANYONE WHO PISSES ME OFF. This unfortunate person is usually (but most assuredly not limited to) my poor, befuddled husband. He requested that my other pregnant friend hold my hand while I give birth to the Tamgerspawn, probably because he's afraid that I'll rip his arm off at the elbow. She suggested that he sit and watch my vajayjay end. GUESS WHAT, DARLING, I CAN STILL KICK YOU FROM OVER THERE. AND FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION.
- The Miscarriage Danger Zone: It goes without saying, this is one Danger Zone that is NOT a cool place to be, bro. Every little twinge is another little reminder that OMG *SCARY STATISTIC* LOTS OF PREGNANCIES END IN MISCARRIAGE, WHARRRRGARBL.
- C-C-C-Constipation: Is this supposed to be practice for the real thing? Prepare the perineum for some epic stretching? (Apparently we are meant to be massaging our 'taints to avoid tearing. LOL WUT?) ... I gave birth to a turd so large that it really should have had a pulse and be out selling funeral insurance somewhere.
- Why the fuck DO MY PANTS FEEL TIGHT ALREADY? Seriously. I thought the advantage of being a chubby Mum is that you won't notice yourself getting bigger straight away. Oh, no ... my stomach needs NO EXCUSE TO SWELL UP LIKE A BEACH-BALL ON 'ROIDS apparently.
- Oh, how AWESOME, you won't have a period for at least nine months, WOO: ... except they neglect to mention that some of us will bleed, and MOST of us will have bitchin' cramps anyway. Suck it up, Tam: whether I deliver this baby full-term or miscarry it from this point (God forbid), IT'S NOT GOING TO TICKLE. Mr T says ... SNICKERS - GET SOME NUTS!
- Sweating like a fat truckie: is exactly as fun as it sounds.
- ... and being able to smell EVERY MOLECULE OF IT, and everything else that smells funky: ATTENTION TAM - your cat just did a fucking putrid shit. YOUR NOSE WANTS YOU TO KNOW ALLLL ABOUT IT FOR SOME REASON. Memo to Tam from nose: cat shit smells extremely funky. DO NOT EAT IT, IT IS BAD FOR YOUR BABY. WRITE THIS DOWN, IT'S IMPORTANT, OK?
- Yo, dawg, I heard you like fatass zits, so I put a fatass zit on another fatass zit so you can squirt pus at your mirror like a pro: I'm not kidding. I really do have a zit on a zit. WAIT A MINUTE. ARE THEY SHAGGING? IS THIS HOW THEY MAKE MORE ZITS?
- Wacky sleeping patterns: Okay, this has GOT to be practice for handling a screaming infant who just doesn't want to go to sleep, no matter how many limbs you would give up if YOUR DARLING BABY WOULD JUST CLOSE HER MOUTH AND EYES FOR TEN GODDAMN MINUTES. I feel like sleeping during the day, and at night (note that it is 2 a.m.) I just don't want to sleep. I toss, and I turn, and I annoy the shit out of my already frazzled husband. Haha, guess HE needs to get used to sleep deprivation too ;)
- Headaches: ... these are like the steak-knives of the pregnancy world. Pregnancy is so much fun ladies, you're getting great value from your hormones here. BUT WAIT, THERE'S MOOOOOOOORE. The steak knife? IS IN YOUR BRAIN, GIVING YOU HURTY TIME.
- And finally, the attendant guilt you feel for not loving every minute of your pregnancy: YOU'RE A WOMYN, THIS IS A PRESHUS TIME IN YOUR LIFE, YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO REJOICE EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY AT THE MIRIKIL OF LIFFFE. Oh FUCK OFF. I am entitled to be a CRANKY BITCH.

END EPIC WHINGE. SORRY. I CAN'T GIVE YOU THAT FIVE MINUTES BACK ... SO DON'T ASK ME, BECAUSE I'LL PROBABLY ISSUE A NASTY STRING OF PROFANITIES AT YOU AND FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION. JUST SAYING.

Don't get me wrong, I just enjoy a good rant. More satisfying than a good shit, and it doesn't cost you a cent. Weeee. And yes, I am extremely excited to be pregnant. It goes without saying: I am eagerly looking forward to laying eyes on the Tamgerspawn for the very first time. I am so lucky that our journey to conception was short and without pit-falls (HAH! WEDDING NIGHT CONCEPTION!). I am very fortunate that I live in a country where the obstetric care is more than adequate (and not prohibitively expensive). I have an amazing husband who still wants to stand by my side even though MechaStreisandTamgerbitch makes an hourly appearance. There have been many moments where I have smiled dorkily to myself, because my little rice-sized Tamgerspawn is nestling up thar in my uterus - getting bigger every day. As the baby grows, there will be more and more unforgettable moments - the first scan, hearing that heartbeat, the first kick. My friend carries her ultrasound picture to reminder her that every shitty moment is just a stepping stone towards something new and exciting :) ... and that's a good way to be.

Fuck this.

I moved to Melbourne precisely because we DON'T usually get 30-degree days in October. I'VE BEEN RIPPED OFF. *Sweats un-attractively* ... we've also been enjoying another by-product of this unusually sweaty weather: storms. Nothing more fun than reading Deathly Hallows with the eerie backdrop of thunderbolts and lightning :) Another line of storms is on its way to completely fuck with our TV satellite. Won't mind too much - it is still fucking hot, and the satellite has definitely taken it up the arse with a pineapple recently and has to be fixed anyway.

Meanwhile, Adam just said to me, "have you heard of replacing the toilet roll or is that another thing that pregnant women can't do?"

Smartarse.

Holy fucknuts, there is so much shit YOU JUST CAN'T DO when you are preggers. I'm just soooooooooo devastated that I'm not allowed to clean the cat litter any more. HOW AM I GOING TO GO NINE MONTHS WITHOUT SCOOPING CAT SHIT WITH THE LITTLE YELLOW SHOVEL? Please tell me how I'm going to survive nine months of not cleaning Pixel's shit off the FUCKING LAUNDRY FLOOR.

LOL.

It almost makes up for not being able to drink for the duration of my gestation. I'm not that much of an alcoholic, but how cruel is it that you have to put up with all the pregnancy bull-shit and not be able to say, "fuck it!" and knock back a vodka. CRUEL, CRUEL, CRUEL. Maybe if vodka was allowed, I would have actually slept last night - but I'm coming down with a mild 'flu (or it's just preggo aches) - and I was in fucking agony all night from aches/cramps all over my body. Literally head to toe. It wasn't until this morning, when I had the awesome idea of sleeping on top of two blankets and one of our super-expensive sleeping bags (comfy!) that I finally had a decent bout of sleep. Yes, our mattress is slightly on the "concrete-slab" side of the soft/hard scale - that's how Adam likes it. Normally, I don't mind it hard (giggity), but these days? Not so much. My body is like "Oi, bitch, please to be making me comfy while I cook your baby!"

Naturally, my tits are fucking pissed off with me right now, judging the amount of hurt they are sending my way. Taking off my bra is an exercise in agony - I flop the girls out and I'm introduced to a WORLD OF PAIN. Meyaaaaaaaaaaargh!

The paper-work for the maternity hospital arrived yesterday, along with a handy little pamphlet about LISTERIOSIS (DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN). Listeria monocytogenes is serious business indeed - it seriously needs its own evil theme music. There is so much shit that can hurt your baby, especially when it pops out - but I think some people take it too far. Is a crash helmet for your crawling baby REALLY necessary? Except for the LOLZ? And teeny-tiny disposable gloves for taking your precious snow-flake out of your PRISTINE HOUSE into the OMG-GERM-RIDDEN WORLD? I'm serious, THEY MAKE THIS SHIT AND PEOPLE BUY IT.

Another visit to the doctors - from now on, my visits will be with the Obstetricians at my GP office and at the hospital :) I'm actually about 6 weeks' pregnant, as the figure given on Monday was how many weeks since contraception. You actually get two free weeks as they include the follicular phase (when the egg is a cookin' in your ovaries) before the conception itself. I am also excited because Mum's awesome new partner, Gary (who is fucking awesome, by the way) is flying Mum down to Melbourne for my first scan. Squeeeeeeeeee.

Ooooh, dinner's here, must wrap up. NOM NOM NOM SATAY PIZZA.

I'll leave you with some pictureses of the delicious fruit crushie we made with our blender just before. Contains strawberries, kiwi-fruit, mandarins, some lime, and lots of ice. TASTY.





(Babby can has some VITAMIN C and lots of DELICIOUS NUTRIENTS)

This format suits my lazy self perfectly.

+ I got a fuck-ton of cleaning down last night
- I could barely sleep after cleaning last night, was feeling too crampy and yuck
- ... and I feel tired and just meeeeeh today
+ I told my immediate family and close friends about Mini-Me yesterday
+ ... and everyone was hella excited, squeeeee
- I hate the 12-week-wait and the whole threat of miscarriage before that, though :(
+ Pregnancy is stealing my desire to eat too much foodz
- ... including healthy fooz, unfortunately (I have to shove fruit and veg down my gullet, for some reason they are making my stomach go BLEEEEECH DO NOT WANT)
+ We are going out for Vietnamese tonight with Ally and Trent :)
+ My cousin is coming to stay next week, yippeeee!
- My house is an absolute bomb-site
+ My cousin probably won't mind if the house looks like the local tip, as long as we pour some Jager down her gullet
- Whoops, no drinkies for meeeeeeee
- The cats have finally managed to wreck the curtains in the bedroom (well, I'll blame them because they dangle off them and I don't think the curtain rod can suport 8kg of cat swinging off it)
+ We had a cute little thundery shower before, and my wussy cat ran under the bed to hide from the two teeny claps of thunder
+ I'm looking forward to a long, hot shower
- ... due, partially, to my sweaty pits and just feeling grossss
- Our pay-TV satellite is broken and the tiniest gust of wind completely screws up our signal
+ ... nevermind, we have a massive DVD collection for a reason, squeeee

And now for some pictureses.


Pixel lets my husband hold her and feed her water like a baby, d'awwwwwww.


The fat cat has claimed the suitcase as his own :)

OMG, F-LIST, I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THAT. SHOCK. HORROR. BAD TAMGERINE :(

So yeah, after all of your encouragement (woot) I totally decided that it would be a CAPITAL IDEA to surprise my new husband by playing the Imperial March as we enter the reception. I needed to be super sneaky to pull it off though. Before we met the DJ, I sent him a text telling him what I wanted to do. Then, the both of us had to keep straight faces when all three of us were together talking about the wedding music. We picked "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas as the intro song, and Adam had no idea what shennanigans had been planned. After the meeting, I had to be a super-sleuth and e-mail the DJ. I almost managed to tell everyone what was going on without Adam finding out, tee hee hee.

On the day, the DJ actually did it really well. He played "I Gotta Feeling" as the rest of the bridal party entered, then segued seamlessly into the Imperial March when we came in. The expression on Adam's face was priceless (and I think the photographers got a good picture of it, haha) ... unfortunately, the person videotaping it on their camera fucked it up, so I don't think there is video evidence. Oh well. IT WAS STILL EPICLY EPIC LIEK OMG.

Urgh, was a boring day ... did lots of washing. Still got a fuck-ton more to do, not mention cleaning this pigsty of a house. My cousin is coming to stay for a week, she needs some down-time from her stressful job (child-protection case worker - eep) ... so we are going to chill out and have some fun. The highlight of the day was an invite from Ally and Trent - they booked a beach-house for a weekend in December - MY BIRTHDAY WEEKEND OMG - and we are all invited to go along and participate in many drunken shennanigans (except I may have a medical reason for not being drunk, hahaha ;) ). Still will be hella fun, watching drunken idiots is just as fun as being one (especially when you are armed with a CAMERA ... dun dun DUN).

I have so much shit to do and so little motivation. COME BACK MOTIVATION, I'LL GIVE YOU A COOKIE.

It began with a faint line on a home-pregnancy test. Okay, it actually began with some sexy times - but you get what I mean. In between, there will most likely be a lot of whacky pregnancy mood swings, puking, huge titzillas, bizarre cravings, myself looking like a whale, panic attacks, sore bazoongas, shennanigans, a whole lot of cleaning, doctors, wharrgarbl and who knows what else. It will end with me (hopefully) giving birth to a viable newborn human (what were you expecting, Mum, a litter of kittens?)

The doctor confirmed it. Enough hCG (hormone of horror produced once embryo has implanted) in my blood to indicate that I'm about three to four weeks pregnant. I thought that I'd be further along, but thanks to my somewhat random cycles, I have no idea when my wee embryo was actually conceived. Except that it was either on my wedding night or on my honeymoon. Giggity.

Naturally, it's all a bit of a trip - but it feels very real. The hCG has hit my system like a freight train driven by a meth-addict, and I am already enjoying the following fun symptoms: nausea, fucking sore tits, bloating, mood-swings from hell (thinking of going out on hallowe'en as myself - behold, BATSHIT CRAZY PREGNANT LADY, run kids!) headaches and *yawn* excessive fatigue. Things are starting to gross me out more - like, right now, my cat is licking her privates and the slurp, slurp, slurrrrrrp sound is really enticing Mr. Projectile Vomit into the house right about now. BAD KITTY, LICK ANY MORE AND THERE WON'T BE AN ASSHOLE LEFT!! What's that about crazy pregnancy hormones? *eek*

... I just wonder what Renesmee the Fibroid thinks of all this. IF YOU EAT MY EMBRYO, RENESMEE, I WILL KILL YOU. THAT'S A PROMISE. >:|

So yeah, f-list, you'll get to endure eight more months of crazy whining preggo lady, lucky you! Your reward? Cute baby photos. My reward? A baby and an extra-stretchy giney. Woot!

[entry now unlocked]

It's still trippy to think that I'm a Mrs (though I just have to look at the extra ring on my fourth finger on my left hand for confirmation). It was an amazing day - the bridal party plus Adam's Mum and Mum's friend Jenny started off the day bright and early. Thanks to my stupid phone switching to Daylight Savings time, I had a mild panic attack at 6.a.m, burst into my bridesmaids' room yelling 'oi! It's 7.a.m.! Get up you lazy bitches!"

Five hours later, our hair and makeup was done. Was tempted to rock up at the room across the hall (where the Governor General was staying) and be all like, "o hai, I'm a bride, autograph pls" but resisted the temptation as would not like to be arrested on my wedding day - she had security up to the eye-balls. Despite being late to almost everything else, I was actually 20 mins early to my wedding (!!!) so we hung around twiddling our thumbs. I wasn't nervous at all until it came to walking down the aisle - luckily Mum and Dad were walking me down/holding me up because I almost passed out. It was all so beautiful though. The reception was amazing - delicious food, gorgeous decorations, plenty of fun. Notable exceptions, of course, were my misbehaving cousin (trying to pass off her fifteen-year-old as a legal adult) and my aunt who probably should have been admitted to the ER with alcohol poisoning. Not only did she puke outside the ladies' toilets, interrupt speeches, and get herself banned from the bar - she was stealing half-drunk drinks from people's tables. Eeep.

Luckily for us, it was a Sunday night wedding so most people buggered off early. As tired as we were, we still got some wedding night nookie in. Giggity. We relaxed for a night before leaving for our beautiful honeymoon at Hamilton Island :)

I finally got off my butt and saved a few of the happy snaps from FaceBook (haven't got our professional pics back yet). Enjoy!

( dum dum da dum .... )

...after being secluded on a beautiful island for my honeymoon (I didn't even mind the shitty mobile phone reception and even shittier Internet speeds). Was a fucking shitty flight though - 1 hour late, then we were stuck in a turbulent holding pattern for 45 minutes. Because Virgin Blue are full of fail, I wasn't even sitting next to my husband - instead I was sitting next to this angry bitch and The Brattiest Kid in Australia. Wharrgarbl. That is all for now.

Well, FUCK IT, I'll just have to make it up as I go.

I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR YOU, FLIST.

My fiance is something of a nerd (as am I), and I saw a YouTube video where the bride and groom entered their reception to the tune of the Imperial March (Vader's theme from Star Wars). I nearly died laughing, and thought WOOHOO, CAPITAL IDEA. Adam would LOVE it, especially if I surprised him with it.

So, FLIST, should I do it?

The day began at the hair salon - where Mum and I spent nearly FOUR HOURS having our hair done. Okay, Mum's was done a lot faster than mine. I warned Mum - I have a FUCKTON of hair, and it takes fucking forever to colour and style. As a result, we were an hour and a half late to the small gathering which was meant to be at 3:30. We turned up at 5, and most of the girls were poised for action. I think it will be easier to sum it all up with DOT POINTS OF AWESOME,, so here we go:

♥ As dinner wasn't until 7, we had some time to kill at my cousin's hotel. We passed the time away playing "pin the hose on the fireman," drinking punch and champagne, playing pass-the-parcel, and enjoying all the penis-shaped objects including my now-prized Penis Candy Dispenser.
♥ Special mention goes to the penis-shaped chocolates my Matron of Honour and cousin (Sharee) made. Nom nom nom.
♥ I was dressed to kill with a sexy veil (complete with pink Devil horns), a satin sash, and a bride-to-be badge. I also had a "L" plate and a Bride-to-be wand, but forgot to bring those :(
♥ At 6:30, we headed into the Valley for dinner. We ended up at Brazillian Touch, a theatre-restaurant complete with fucking delish cocktails, hot Latino dancers, six other Hen's nights, and food to die for.
♥ Holy shit, have you guys got ANY idea how much attention the veil generates? O.o
♥ Fuck, did I mention how delish the food was? OH. MY. GOD. More food to soak up the booze, my dearies.
♥ During dinner, they were showing some Latin songs - they were the weirdest songs ever. Normally, it would have just been Latino background noise, but because they had sub-titles we got to enjoy lyrics more bizarre than Lady Gaga's kit. The lyrics, apart from being odd, were very depressing - so my friend Coral and I had some giggles about the Latino emo genre.
♥ All of us had many laughs at the expense of the armies of skanks wearing little more than undies disguised as outer-wear.
♥ Naturally, we brides-to-be were embarrassed on many occasions throughout the night at Brazillian Touch (including a lap-dance for me, giggity), and at least three people were taking pictures. I am waiting (with some apprehension) for said pictures to start appearing on FaceBook.
♥ My Mum and Adam's Mum getting down and dirty with Latino hotties.
♥ The dark-skinned fire-eating spunk ... oh my GOD.
♥ Adam's cousins more than making up for the slack bitches from my Dad's side of the family who didn't show up. >:|
♥ Coral partyin' it up and providing many epic lulz.
♥ The fucking DUST STORM that rocked up while we were inside having dinner. Yay for dark-brown boogers.
♥ The crazy bitch who tried to steal my veil when we were fighting through the dust and the crowds to find a cab in the Valley (difficult). I was walking along, and WHOOOSHKA, I felt my veil come off. Before I could saY "WAT THE FUCK?" I saw my cousin and Holly (Kris' girlfriend, my other bridesmaid) fighting with some little tart for the posession of my veil. Sharee (my cousin), isn't someone you fuck with. She yelled: "fuck off you skank," and the bitch relinquished my veil.
♥ The dumb bitch who nearly got hit by a car at the casino.
♥ Even more attention attracted by the veil. If I had a dollar for every time someone said "DON'T DOOOOOOOO ITTTTTT" ... I'd never have to work again.
♥ Daiquris at the casino.
♥ Holly trying to dare the cabbie who drove us home to do a burn-out. Didn't get anywhere though.

Woo, the buck's night highlights (well, the ones that I know about):
♥ I managed to find an inflatable sheep for the buck's party at the sex shop, but they got a nice surprise when they realised that it actually makes "baa" noises.
♥ My cousin's husband wearing the over-sized Kanye glasses. Ima let you finish, Corey Worthington, but Kanye's ridiculous sunnies bring the most lulz.
♥ Our friend from Melbourne getting paralytic and passing out on the basketball court on Adam's parents' property.
♥ Adam also passed out on said basketball court. And in the garden. Not to mention him puking no less than THREE TIMES. It may have had something to do with the topless waitress feeding him drink after drink.
♥ The best man receiving a MMS showing me receiving a lap-dance from a Latino hottie (I had no idea that someone even got that photo, lol).

We have an amazing harpist, so I have decided to eschew contemporary music in order to take advantage of this beautiful instrument. So there I was, cruisin' YouTube refreshing my memory of my favourite classical pieces from which I'd be choosing my ceremony music. Anyway, I looked up "Clair De Lune" by Debussy on YouTube, to have a listen and decide if I liked it enough to ignore the fact that the Twihards are all liek "ZOMG, Edward listens to classical music, I CAN TOOOOO!" ... and what did I find?



Yes, I got that fucking "this video contains an audio track that has not been authorised by WMG. The audio has been disabled" ... wait, WHUT?

Excuse me, WMG, BUT HERE'S A GIANT


For fucking cock-blocking CLASSICAL MUSIC that should be PUBLIC DOMAIN on YouTube, in addition to a myriad of other sins. FUCK YOU ALL IN YOUR COLLECTIVE CORN-HOLES WITH A GIANT PINEAPPLE.

*Deep breaths*

For those who are interested, these are the ones I did choose:
Ave Maria - Schubert (Processional)
Canon in D - Pachelbel (Signing of Register)
Prelude in C - Bach (Recessional)

Extra songs
Gymnopedie No 1 - Satie
Morning - Greig
Autumn & Spring (Vivaldi Four Seasons)
Fur Elise - Beethoven
Ode to Joy - Beethoven
Kaleidoscope - Mozart