Man, I feel like a....

Pregnancy is super painful, y'all.  Pregnancy is painful, and seems to be increasingly painful each time you do it.  I mean, you expect things like back pain, but you don't ever expect the whole "feels like someone cracked you in the pelvic bone with a baseball bat" thing, or those times when the baby sits on a nerve or something and causes one of your legs to cramp up and lose structural integrity and very nearly causes you to fall to the floor in front of people and make them think you might be dying.  I'm grimacing in public and freaking people out.  I shed 3, maybe 4 actual tears at a client's house, because life is painful and I am exhausted and those things decided to leak out of my face holes.

So, it's the 3rd trimester.  Roughly 12 more weeks till we meet our son.  His name is Harper Reid, and I hope he fits in well, because the first two have been getting on AMAZINGLY well.  Today for example, they took all of their toys out of their drawers and dumped them on the floor, then they had a pretend tea party.  Which was fun because no one was screaming.  I've learned that I'm okay with a messy house so long as nothing smells bad and no one is screaming.  Anyway, it's important to know your limits.

2 Trimesters down, 3 months of growth and discomfort left to go!

So that's a picture of me from last week, right on the cusp of the trimester change.  Aside: right now, it should be noted that my son is doing somersaults inside of me and I feel what I must imagine a pumpkin must feel while someone is scraping out its insides.  Bside:  I'm not sure if I'm looking much bigger, but I frequently waddle when I walk because it hurts to move, and I find it really helps to swing my arms in an excessive manner to keep up forward momentum.

My husband just posed a hypothetical situation to me that began with the phrase, "So, if you were a woman..."

Over 7 years married, who says the magic has to go?

::Sigh::

Street Fighter. That happened once.

These days when I try to find my own blog, the internet gets all sorts of attitude.  What?? You want to go WHERE?  No.  No, I'm pretty sure that place doesn't exist.

Touche, internet.

I haven't found much of any spare time this summer to do things I enjoy like needle work and reading fine literature and talking at the internet.  But tonight, husband has decided that we should watch Street Fighter staring Jean-Claude-Van-DAMN he doesn't look very good with red hair.  That's right.  I TOTES just Fresh Princed your toucases.  Anyway I really don't know what's going on.  I'm not even sure exactly where this is supposed to be taking place, except that it's highly ethnic-ish, with lots of southeast Asians, and belly dancing, and Samoans, and mohawks, and turbans, and there's lots of bones in the decor.  I'm guessing somewhere in South Central LA.  Apparently "this place makes Detroit look like Disneyland", and some guy named Bison is printing money with his own face on it.  So I'm guessing his evil plot has something to do with a counterfeit Monopoly franchise.

Nerdy accountant guy: "Colonel, have you lost your mind?"

Van Dam: "No..... you have lost your balls."

BOOM!!!!!  Take that Nerdy Accountant Guy!!

Husband just pointed out that there has yet to be any street fighting in this Street Fighter flick.  Maybe they're saving that for the sequel?

Anyway, this movie is quite obviously shooting for that magical combination of hilarity and total kick-assedness, but seems to have tripped and fallen into a big steaming pile of stupidity.  And then there's a painting of a clown.  And Van Dam is watching home videos and listening to some poppy 80's tunes while driving his stealth ship.  Woooooaaaah, the stealth ship just went all electric and sparkly like the Delorean right when it's about to hit 88 mph.  That seems like a pretty dangerous feature for a water vessel, and it doesn't seemed to have sped the ship up.  It still took a good 15 minutes of deeply contemplative screen time just to get them to coast out of the bay.

So I came on the internet as a diversion from this terrible movie, but now I can't seem to stop watching.

Evil Monopoly Dictator Guy: "Identify yourself!"

Van Dam: "This is the collection agency, Bison.  And your ASS is 6 months overdue."

Boom!! HE DOES IT AGAIN!!

Holy Chicken Sticks, the bad guys control their weapons by using the ACTUAL STREET FIGHTER ARCADE GAME CONTROL PAD.  With the little ball-topped joy stick, and the primary colored buttons.  Just so you know, when you push those buttons, it seems you are, in fact, dropping giant mega-bombs into rivers in unnamed third world countries.

3 guards just spun around synchronously, screamed CALIENTE! and aimed their weapons at an elephant who happened to be walking by.  Yeah, that's right, screw you, you hot hot lumbering beast.

Oh my gosh, Carrot Top is trying to strangle Van Dam!!  But it's cool because Van Dam reminded him that they used to be friends, so Carrot Top cried and stuff.  And then Van Dam decided to shoot him.  But a scientist told him he wasn't allowed to.

I rate this movie: Unpleasant.

I rate Mr. Van Dam: How Did You Ever Have a Job.

I rate the villain's bulbous eye balls: Impressive.  And a little bit terrifying.

Woah, all of a sudden people are speaking Japanese and sumo wrestlers are making Godzilla noises.

Tip for if you ever find yourself in hand-to-hand combat with Van Dam:  He will roundhouse kick you to the face.  Watch for that.  It's pretty much his only move.  He raises his fists a bunch, but that's just a red herring.  It's all about the roundhouse kick to the face.

The bad guy just came back to life because his suit administered CPR and electroshock therapy and then gave him a shot of adrenaline.  And now he has magical powers.  No sorry, they explained it, it's something something electromagnetism.  My mistake.

In other news, I am now 26 weeks(ish) pregnant, and I have already gained 28 pounds from my lowest weight, and most of the time I feel too tired to breathe and I cannot stop urinating.  Ever.

Don't worry, Van Dam just killed the bad guy with a roundhouse kick to the face that made the whole room explode.  Take that, Bad Guy.

On the bright side, my wedding ring still fits most days, and my abdomen looks like a Jello-mold with a tiny alien trapped inside.  Which is a plus because sometimes it's entertaining to watch.  It still looks to me like there might be two alien's trapped inside, but that's not what the doctors seems to think, and I suppose they would know.

These Street Fighters should be called Street Run-Awayers.

Well this post is almost as long and terrible as the movie that inspired it, so I think it's about time for me to sign off.  Have a nice night, folks.  And by nice, I mean, don't go waste your night on Street Fighter.  It will hurt all of your face holes.