Glee in the Rosemary Bushes

Normally I'm so busy bitching about work to actually do any work, but this week is the week of deadlines.  Agonizing work in that it is so boring and hard on the eyes, that I just want to throw myself off the roof of the parking garage.  Then there's all that shit I have to do while Twit is on leave (seems she was originally going to come back to work this week, but the shocker is that didn't! No return date given--it's too bad I didn't make bets on how long she'd be out of the office). 

Tomorrow The Boy, Wikus and I are going to see the Pixies.  They are also playing tonight, but to be clear, they did that douchy thing where they add a second date to play the night before the original date that all of us scrambled to get tickets for.  So all those people who weren't fast enough to get tickets, get the pleasure of seeing the band first.  I have problems with this.  It disrupts my sense of what is right and wrong.

Also, it seems Wikus didn't even know he was going.  The Boy and him had worked out some exchange where Wikus helps The Boy with some guitar pedals (building them from scratch), and The Boy would pay with a ticket to the Pixies.  Wikus claims to have only turned a "trimpot" and didn't realize that his debt was paid.  I told him he's going and to shut up.  It's a free ticket--who cares if he did the tiniest smidge of work to get it.

This afternoon there was a chance of seeing CSP for a moment or two, but it got late, and he didn't show, and I left to drive home in the rain (yes, I see myself as too cool to wait; or rather, perhaps, too insecure to actually sit waiting for anyone when I'm not 100% sure that person is actually going to show).  Ends up he was gabbing with some lady on the fifth floor about "baby gender parties" and "daddy diaper parties."  Or was that "daddy dirty diaper parties?"  I was too appalled to be paying close attention.  There was a lot of "EXCUSE ME?" coming out of my mouth (all this was relayed to me via phone).

Apparently, people have a party just to reveal the gender of their baby to their friends and family.  I feel he must be lying to me.  It just sounds so ridiculous.  There was something about a cake where the middle layer of icing is pink or blue, and that everyone shouts with joy at finding out...finally...the gender of that damn baby.  What do they do in the case of boy-girl twins?  Or multiples in general?  What do they do if what the technician thought was a cheeseburger was just an ample butt cheek hiding the willy?  Is it not enough to just have a fucking baby shower?  Now we have to get excited over the gender of your baby to the extent that we must attend a surprise party to find out if the baby is going to have a winky or not?

The daddy diaper party is as sexist as it sounds.  Those pathetic men, look how funny they are not knowing how to handle babies and their excrement.  Therefore, let's all gather together and make them sniff at melted candy bars in diapers.  It's so realistic and fun.  Babies poop candy!  Candy with nuts and nougat.  Tasty.  Who participates in this bullshit?  Erm, yes, if any of my friends have done something like this, please know I'm just trying to understand the appeal.  Why debase the fathers like that?  I'm pretty confident there are plenty of men who are way more capable of changing a diaper than I am.  And they certainly wouldn't confuse chocolate with shit. 

Side note: What songs are these on Glee?  Is this a sign of me being seriously out of touch with today's music?  DOES THIS MEAN I'M OLD?

Now that CSP has enlightened me on how awesome having a baby is, I'm totally upset that I severed my Fallopian tubes.  I am such an idiot.  Is there anyway I can throw one of these parties by faking a pregnancy? I want a Baby Ruth in a diaper!

That CSP ruining my life like that.  Well, so all of you know, I have it on good authority that he goes around picking rosemary out of people's yard.  That sounds innocent enough, being that rosemary grows easily and no one will miss a sprig here and there.  However, picking rosemary is a euphemism.  He is totally standing in rosemary bushes with his pants around his ankles.  Just so you know.