Photo Growth Chart, or, the Vlog that will never see the light of day

I'll just dive right in without any excuses for my three-week disappearance from blogging.

First and foremost, how bout some Stamos on Glee last night?! (Okay... this is kind of funny. When I started this blog, I almost didn't use it. A year-ish amount of time passed, and when I decided to blog regularly, the way I broke the ice involved John Stamos. That was in September of '09. Take a gander.)

And, for more on my love affair with Uncle Jesse, click here. (That post totes rocked. I'm probably going to have to re-post it at some point. It's top ten, fo sho'.)

Anyway: confession. I secretly just made a little vlog to show you peeps my baby bump, but it was so white tra-shay that I am not able to post it. I was holding the camera up to the mirror in my bedroom whilst I recorded, and it's soooo dark and blurry (not to mention the unmade bed behind me...) that I just have no choice but to feed it to the bowels of the internets.

Sorryspice.
A picture will have to suffice.

(Yes, that rhymed.)

As a reminder, here's my frontal view at almost 14 weeks:

muffintop in the oven

And here's the latest -- I'm now a whopping 29 weeks preggers -- be warned -- you might want to avert your eyes.

leggo my eggo, cause i'm preggo.
and p.s. that is NOT the same white shirt that i wore in the other picture. It's a bigger one. Obvi.

Weighing in, there are 35 more pounds of amber murphy than there were before-bumpage.
Don't I sound proud of myself?

Yeah, not so much. However, I've been burning calories these days by ~~power walking~~ shopping for the baby!

*Pictures to come.* Stay tuned! I promise to blog more often in the weeks to come. I even have a fun TMI for tomorrow, so get ready.

fetal friday?

I know that I left everyone hanging yesterday. You know, when I went to pee on that stick. (That was mean of me. Not the peeing, but the leaving hanging.) Well, I think the big reveal is best expressed in letter form. Deep breath. Here goes. dear unborn baby daughter son or daughter, I take it back. I take back everything I said about not wanting kids. I was just scaredspice, and the slightest bit selfish, and maybe I had a giant fear of commitment. But, three positive test results in the last eighteen hours seem to say that you actually are in there, getting all comfy. I guess you'll probably be here in mid-December. I never thought about having a Christmas baby. (You've really put a wrench in my whole taking-maternity-leave-during-the-NCAA-tournament plan, but that's okay. At least it's basketball season. Don't tell Daddy yet, but you are going to cheer for the Indiana Hoosiers.) Speaking of Daddy, I take back all the mean things I've ever sa...

Brett and Alice's Writing Style is the Real Crime Here

Here is a nearly sentence-by-sentence reconstruction of Brett and Alice's most recent episode of their podcast "The Prosecutors" - titled Adnan Syed is Guilty. I will not be utilizing the strikethrough in every sentence but will do so when I am compelled and will try to bold sections I've added. I've highlighted some of my favorite and most poignant edits. I've tired and failed to stay away from a bit of snark. This endeavor was exhausting. My work will illustrate how Brett Talley and Alice LaCour use narrative spin to bring you their version of events that they want to, for whatever reason, call "facts." I start just before the 4 minute mark. Transcript So,, Adnan Syed and Hae Min Lee dated for quite some time when they were in high school, starting around March 1998. They’d stay together for the next 9 months or so, though they broke up twice during that period. They were on-again off-again until around Halloween and broke up for good before...

My "Fucher"

Over a year ago, my mom and dad decided to clean clutter out of their own house and, in an attempt to streamline, they went ahead and gave me boxes of things they had saved from my childhood -- if I'm honest, things I didn't really expect I see until they died or something gruesomespice like that. Whatever, it's fine. I'm not complaining about it, even though it isn't like I really have the room in my house for boxes of cards I was given when I was five, or worksheets and stories I wrote in the second grade. I hadn't even really dug into those boxes until last night. I found one little "story" I wrote (and we'll use the word story lightly here) called MY FUCHER. (It took me a minute to realize I'd meant MY FUTURE.) Hilar. My Fucher I want to mary a boy who will stay home all day and clean the house. I would not stay home. I would work as a singer or hope to. I want to have a babey girl. I would name her Lynn or Trecey or Nciol. I woul...

Too Many Books

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