Saturday night I went to my parent's next door neighbor's daughter's baby shower. Her name is Laurel. She is seven months pregnant, and looks 3. My sweet friend, Alissa, was also there. She is 8 months pregnant, and looks almost past due. It's all in her tummy, by the way. She doesn't carry the weight in her butt, like I did.
She already knows she's big, but strangers in the street feel compelled to tell her anyway. The sales manager at The Loft actually told her that her doctor had the due date wrong, and she was due now. Oh - really? The sales manager at The Loft? Makes me want to boycott the place. But, you know, she is the sales manager. Definitely more qualified than Alissa's OB. I think I'll head on over to The Loft next time I need a papsmear.
Okay - I added Jon giving a mean face because it's funny. He's never mad. And the second to last one is me after many glasses of wine, trying to win Alissa's forgiveness after I offended her. Last one is Travis, of course!
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