* In response to my iron pills question, I was surprised by the resounding cry of POOP! from the internet. Usually, when the internet does that, I’m woman enough to listen.
However, when it came last week, for some strange reason, I was all, Nuh-Uh! My machinery is top grade, impenetrable to the effects of well known chemicicological changes!
And that was true until about a day ago, when I discovered my butt had turned into a chocolate covered espresso bean dispenser. One that worked really slowly. With grinding gear sound effects.
Internet, I apologize. You were right and I was wrong. I don’t know that this speaks too highly for the expensive iron causing a girl to avoid such problems, but I am now totally invested in the idea of paying 40 bucks a month so it doesn’t get any worse.
* While in Trader Joe’s yesterday (stocking up on prune juice, prunes and prunecicles, btw), I was checked by a guy with a thick Australian accent who kept calling me ‘Mate’. As I was pondering why on earth I didn’t qualify as a ‘Sheila’ according to my knowledge of all things Australian (as dictated by The Crocodile Hunter and prior to that Crocodile Dundee) (and also Men at Work’s Down Under) the guy leered at my belly and asked when I was due.
“Ten weeks” I told him.
To which the guy wiggled his eyebrows and says this: “Once you get the little one out of there, you’re gonna be running around like a…. Well, a blue-assed redacted!” And then he offered me a free box of cranberry stollen.**
I waddled away with my stollen, laughing and confused. But now I am totally into it. It sounds like some rare bird. In fact, I have had some extensive fantasies about my post partum profile ending up on a two cent stamp or something. It would read Blue-Assed Redacted under my smiling face. I’d be perched on a twig, about to take flight.
*I am a little giddy about the inauguration today, but have nothing more to say about it. So I’ll just throw it in here. Whee! Inaugeramalamadingdong!
* I got an email from one of my old classmates collecting gossip tidbits for the alumni pages. I was kind of psyched because it was from a guy I actually knew and the email was personalized with all these funny stories about what he had been up to the past few years.
But when I started to respond, I realized all the things I do these days (this blog, that book, etc.) are also things I don’t want associated with my real name.
After minutes of mute struggle, I sent this really lame, “gestating another babee and livin’ mah life” blurb that pretty much covers every disclosable thing I’ve been doing since the last time I answered one of those emails, (which coincidently enough, was the last time (before this last time) I was gestating a baby. Really hoping they wedge my new blurb between the alum who took a year-long honeymoon traveling the world and the one who graduated top of her class from medical school like they did last time). I am a hobbit, people. Living my sad little life in secret.
* And finally, I am super excited that back in hobbit land, I am going through the revisions of that story again. Yay! Can it be done by the end of the January? That would be so cool if it was.
**Which, the only way you would get excited over this last part is if you have never had stollen. I’m guessing they were giving them away because not even the local shelters would accept them. Those things only have two true purposes in life: Wedging open fire doors and making fruitcake look appetizing.
And at the risk of going too far off on a tangent, Little sister is dating a guy whose family is in the business of making high end, famous recipe stollen. As part of checking out if he was the right guy for her, we ordered a stollen in secret from his company this past Christmas. We decided she should break up with him just to save her from having to eat that stuff and smile every Christmas if she married the guy.
And now that I’ve disclosed that, it is pretty much guaranteed she will marry the guy and he will eventually read this. Hi bro! Looks like I knew you were marrying my sister before you did.
16 Responses to “I Am the Blue-Ass Redacted”
What is a blue-assed redacted, really? Wouldn’t you have to have a blue-ass first before it could be redacted? Is it like one of those baboons? So glad I’m googling this at home and not at work. The IT people think I’m disturbed enough as it is.
Ditto: Inaugeramalamadingdong! WHEE!
First, whee inauguration love!
Second, I would like to know more about his Blue Assed Redacted.
I know redacted as a verb, meaning, I take it back!
The common Australian saying is “running around like a blue-assed fly”, evoking the image of a fly buzzing around hectically in all directions without rest. No idea how the redacted got into it. Puzzling really.
Also – Happy Obama Day! We set our alarm for 3.30am, and snuck out of bed without waking the kids to watch your new Commander-in-chief herald a new beginning. Amen.
Look, it could be worse. I just got found via Facebook by a buddy of mine from college and I COULD direct him to my blog. All it did was reeeeeally emphasize how much I suck, and how boring I am.
And I have no book to hide.
I may go and shoot myself now. Dang.
Hi, delurking here, for what I think is the first time. Just to say that you crack me the hell up, I just spit chocolate ice cream on my laptop. I have no idea what your book is about, but all I know is that I am freaking dying to read it. I sure as hell hope that it is as hilarious as your posts are.
Just had to say that. Good luck with gestating baby #3. You have to know that in the grand scheme of things, it’s way more important than a year-long honeymoon. I’f I’d done that with my husband, we’d have divorced before the year was through.
ps. Stollen sucks. My mom tries to make me eat it every Christmas, and it’s the worst. It’s cardboard masquerading as a very nice “sweet”. I’ll take m&m’s, thank you.
I make kick-ass stollen. You would like it. My German father taught me how to make it before he died. It is highly coveted. If you told me your address, I’d send you some in time for next Christmas. Even if you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t stop reading your blog.
Am I the first one living in Australia to comment? Well. I can be THE AUTHORITAH.
Point 1. Yes it is “blue-arsed fly” (note the ‘arsed’, for authenticity.) The JOKE part is that he redacted the ‘wrong’ word: fly, not arsed. See? Funny. A lot less funny once you have to explain it, sure.
Point 2. Nobody is ‘sheila’; everyone is ‘mate’. You can be A sheila, or point out THAT sheila; but you’d never call someone sheila. So no worries on that point.
Point 3. The stollen is beyond me. Refer to the German above.
There are too many words here that I don’t understand. Thank god Jac explained the Blue-assed part. I’m still a little lost about what the heck stollen is. It’s a good thing google and I are so friendly.
You should have included being called a blue ass redacted by a complete stranger in the bulletin. That would have blown away the world traveler.
I’m pleased with myself for realising that he redacted the wrong word, that crazy Aussie.
This tale just made me think of the Australian landscaping guy working outside of our building who came in and said, “You’ve got ritz the size of kitz out there!” For those of you saying it out loud to yourself in a crap Australian accent – “You’ve got RATS the size of CATS out there!” is what he said. I like to randomly trot out ritz the size of kitz for kicks sometimes.
Also, stollen. Blurgh.
HOBBIT!!! (tee hee!)
Me, too- and nowhere close to actual publication, even though I have been writing for years. I just popped out my 5th behbeh, and my class reunion (20 years!) is this summer. I’m such a loser!
And please tell me your new Aussie friend looked like Hugh Jackman….
Jamie,
I think that the guy working outside your building was a Kiwi… LOL
Ritz, kitz, sex (six) and fush and chups(fish and chips) are VERY New Zealand infelctions…not Aussie LOL
Made me laugh out loud though, as did the redacted fly.
I had a totally embarrassing experience when I was on a serious iron supplementation regime; I found myself *ahem* needing to investigate dried prunes and integrate them into my diet, and then I had a day when I guess I went overboard eating prunes and suddenly needed to get to a washroom Right Away. I was near a university dorm and not much else, so I went and knocked on a door and BEGGED one of the students to let me in to use the washroom.
Not one of my favorite memories.
blue-assed redacted is now officially my new favorite phrase.
Thanks again- I just snorted so hard at the paragraph following “blue-assed redacted” that I woke the baby up.
“Ritz and Kits” also made me laugh.
Seriously in hysterical laughter over your espresso bean grinding butt! Such a perfect analogy!