Category Archives: Idon’tknowwhattocallit Category

no. 509 – Road Rage

First, a housekeeping note: I had to turn on the verification for comments because I have been getting spammed to death. Sorry as I know that it’s an annoying inconvenience, but the longer I let it continue, the more spam I get daily.

I love experiencing crabbier people than myself. It may seem impossible, but really, they are out there.

This afternoon I enjoyed the following exchange:

I was at a red light waiting for a break in the traffic to turn right. It was not one of those intersections that restrict right turns on red.

After a few cars went by, I took advantage of a lag and pulled into the traffic. No problem.

Except suddenly in my rear view mirror I noticed lights flashing.

No, it wasn’t the police.

It was a prick with his very own brand new suv flashing his headlights at me in irritation as he tried to barrel up my asshole, otherwise known as my tailpipe.

He then proceeded to give me the finger.

In response I gave one of those "teaching the baby how to wave" waves (I’ve learned that nothing fuels fury than being sweetly ignorant to the fury) and lifted my foot from the accelerator.

He then shook his middle finger at me in what could have easily been described as an epileptic seizure.

Before I could respond by slamming on my brakes, sending his previously free hand to the steering wheel in a death grip before rear-ending me, the best part of the whole fracas happens:

His Woman reached over and slapped his hand down and proceeded to verbally rip him a new one.

I guess those weren’t fuzzy dice hanging from his mirror.

no. 507 – Stranger Friends

Now THAT was a whirlwind weekend. Six hours driving (one way) alone sucks. It helps to know that either end’s destination was worth the multiple gas station stops and the unfortunate side affect of constipation I get from driving.

Maybe I should be careful about how I describe the drive since I would love nothing more than for Jitters and Alexa to come this way so I can show them the 9,782,666,981st Wonder of the World. I don’t know what it is but I’m sure I can fake something for them. Plus it’s just a matter of getting together and talking about infertility, blogging, and husbands.

Some of the issues ran deep: just how do you pronounce Piquant? and what does suchandsuch blogger’s pseudonym really mean? My own is just one horrible moment of many in which I lacked originality.

Jitters is completely adorable. Saturday night we decided to get a drink at one of the chicchic places close to where I was staying. One drink turned into several and by the time I was dropped off in front of my hotel (after I made Jitters confirm that my BCPs truly were "chewable" to which she confirmed they were indeed chewable but tasted strongly of "ass"), it was almost two in the morning. Unfortunately we left Will who purchased our last round of drinks sitting at the bar scoping out some other classy chicks to ask to accompany him to Chammps.

Sunday afternoon I met Jitters at her lovely home and then we went to meet up with Alexa for lunch. Alexa is genteel and, as both Jitters and I concurred during our drive, Wicked Smart. Unfortunately she was also harboring the post-IVF retrieval discomfort, but handled it with aplomb and style so just ignore her caftan comment.

Thank you to both ladies who made time out of their weekend to meet with me in a rather impromptu visit to the North. The baby I went to see is sweet and I had the almost instantaneous affect of making him poop every time I held him. My friend is dealing with the common frustrations of breastfeeding and I hope some of her anxieties will be alleviated soon.

After all was said and done, it was good to be back home in my bed. I was especially grateful Monday morning to wake up to my son’s smiling face and to hear him confess to missing me. Best of all, Mr. DD took the training wheels off his bike and there was no major injuries forthcoming. I was just a little sad that I missed his first ride without the training wheels.

Funny how so many things can happen in just 48 hours.

no. 506 – Land of A Thousand Laughs

I’m going to Minneapolis this weekend to get my freak on with Jitters.

Then the two of us hopefully get to see this young lass and steal her drugs after we get her drunk.

And sometime in between all that, I am also going to see a very dear old friend who delivered her second IVF baby boy who is exactly one week old today. I’m hoping that some of that "gaga juju" will give me luck.

You can see here how excited I am!

[Thanks to Katrina from Southern Suds & Lather for sharing.]

no. 492 – Pee vs. Sweat

I was a little surprised by how many of you use the bareMinerals product. Do you think there is a correlation between the blogger mentality and infomercial consumerism? If someone was to pay me a few million, I’d research it, but for now? I’ll thoughtfully tap my forefinger to my lips and wonder.

Peeved Michelle has sung the praises of the ClearBlue Monitor since the moment we exchanged correspondence, and of course I have to give her some credence since she did finally get pregnant using it and her daughter’s due, oh, what? tomorrow! Note to P.M.: Now will you start using the ball? I fear I have lost the baby pool either way.

I asked about the OV Watch because I only know one person with actual experience – and success – and that is my S.C. niece. When I found out that they had used the watch, a last ditch effort before moving onto ART, I was skeptical. They have been trying to get pregnant for a couple of years now and I was under the impression that the preliminary tests were pointing at him, not her. So that’s where my skepticism comes in. No ovulation predictor on earth will change male factor.

Or will it?

When I said something to Mr. DD about it being a crock, he gave me this analogy. If you are trying to shoot a bird with a BB and you know it’s in the tree you have a better chance hitting it by aiming at the tree than around it.

Confucius, he is not, but it made sense in my head. And who doesn’t sound smarter when they talk like Yoda?

Warning: recollection of childhood moment ahead.

When my Dad first taught me to shoot, it was a BB gun. I was probably around 10. I was given strict instructions to only shoot at the clay targets we would hang from the clothes line. Being the good little girl <sarcasm> I was, I would wander the farm looking for my next big kill. One day I saw a wren up in a large maple tree. Wrens are tiny birds, just a little bit bigger than hummingbirds. I aimed up into the tree and pulled the trigger. I was horrified when the wren fell out of the tree and hit the ground with a soft thud.

I never thought in a million years I would not only hit the wren, but kill it, too. I had a hell of a time hitting a still target 15 feet in front of me much less a moving target 30 feet up. I buried the wren and never told anyone until now.

Back to my point. The BB might just hit the bird hidden in the bush. So physically there is no reason for Mr. DD and I not to keep trying, at least for a reasonable amount of time after the DE.  I say after because I really don’t want to think about timed sex and two-week waits right now, and I certainly don’t want to jeopardize our DE cycle.

I have tried temping. I hated it. I use the 7day kits to predict ovulation, which means I had to crack open a second box this last cycle. I’ve tried Fertility Friend. Hated that, too. So I waffle between the watch and monitor.

Some of you mentioned the cost, which initially does seem high so I went and did some comparison shopping on new items only.

The watch starter kit (watch and 1 sensor) could be found for as little as $150. Every month a new sensor must be purchased at $40 each.

Th monitor starter kit (monitor and one month supply of 30 pee sticks) was $185. Refills of 30 sticks are $45 each.

If we assumed that the watch actually works, then it is a better value.

Uglier, but cheaper.

If you have a latex allergy, you may be sensitive to the watch. If you have PCOS, they do not recommend the monitor.

The one advantage I like about the watch is I wouldn’t have to hold my bladder until my teeth start swimming. A hard task for someone who routinely gets up two times a night. Plus, you don’t wear the watch all day, just six hours minimum. Of course it might be kind of fun having it beep "shag me, shag me, shag me" while at dinner with the in-laws.

But still the question remains, how accurate is it? I hope the question, for me anyway, remains rhetorical.

no. 491 – ePinions Should Allow the *F* Bomb

Once again it’s time for my infamous Useless Product Review (UPR). Who couldn’t use an UPR right about now?

If you’re wondering if you missed something from one of my earlier posts, keep in mind the definition of infamous, thanks to Princeton: ill-famed: having an exceedingly bad reputation. Let’s go with "ill-famed" on this one, shall we and make believe this is a regular addition to my blog.

I’m a make-up snob. I generally stay away from Walgreens when I need foundation. For everything else like mascara or lipstick, I’m perfectly content to use them as well as picking up the occasional feminine product which always happens to be juxtaposed comically with pregnancy and ovulation sticks. Some of you may even remember the living-hell I experienced when Clinique discontinued my most favorite product, EVAH! for which I have found only a substandard replacement.

I bring up that point (about being a snob) because I thought I would try something new, which was in fact purchased at Walgreens. Neutrogena’s Mineral Sheers. I’ve been all but a phone call away when it comes to the infomercial for the bareMinerals so I thought, what the heck? for $10 I’ll "splurge" on Neutrogena’s product.

Here’s where the Useless of UPR comes into play.

The instructions on the packaging claim that you have to push down on the bristles a few times to get the product started. I did that and after seeing no results, I tapped it on the back of my hand several more times. Finally I noticed a fine puff of product wafting up in the air. Then I went to apply it to my face.




I may as well have been using any one of these as an applicator! Owie, ow, ow. Now I wouldn’t complain too much if the action was considered conducive and managed to open up each whitehead I had on my forehead and dug into every blackhead on my nose…but it didn’t. It just hurt.

This reviewer says she likes it because of its very sheer coverage since she doesn’t have problematic skin (can we say BRAGGART? how ’bout BITCH?). Well, I need some coverage at least to even out my skin, which has stubbornly held onto my pregnancy mask for almost 6 years now (oh, sure. my hormones can hold onto a pregnancy mask for 6 years, but how about a simple fucking pregnancy? lazy whores).

Neutro_minerals_1 Here is a visual of what comes out with three taps of the brush.Neutro_minerals_2

Here’s ten.

Neutro_minerals_4 Here’s one of 20-plus with emphasis on the broken hypodermic needles bristles.

Um, you see the problem?

I wanted to get this post out of the way because I’m going to break open the dispenser and deposit the mineral dust in with my Gentle Light Powder by Clinique. I’ve learned my lesson…for now.

Speaking of UPRs, has anyone used this product? If so, what did you think of it? I know. I know. I said we weren’t trying, but I’m keeping my options open. Our donor egg cycle only has a 50% chance of pregnancy. Let’s not even discuss that little thing called "live birth". Nothing keeping us from trying after that, right? Except maybe death-induced despondency.

no. 454 – Birth Day

Taking a break from my break to announce  a special birthday.

Some of you remember Suzanne from Palatial Squalor? She had a blog some time ago which documented her infertility-sentence including several IUIs, a couple of IVFs and eventually Donor Egg. We went through our IVFs at the same time, at the same clinic. We both lost our pregnancies from IVF #1 within weeks of each other. We went to the same loon of an acupuncturist. Ahhhh, the memories.

After she got pregnant with the donor egg cycle she decided to shut down her blog (hence, no link), but we had many email exchanges over that time. She made me laugh out loud at her stories and observations on life in general. Here is just one blurb that occasionally runs through my head in the middle of the day and makes me smile:

My mother in law sent us an email the other day wanting to know if we were ready for the baby and warning us that having a baby was going to be a drastic change to our lifestyle.  Oh really???  Wow, there’s some profound insight, thanks.  I felt like telling her that it would not in fact impact our lifestyle as I’m pretty sure that tiny toddler hands are excellent for packing the bong and mixing martinis. 

Damn, I miss her writing…

So anyway, in the wee morning hours on May 30th, Suzanne gave birth to her little girl, E. I received an email from her husband announcing the time and method, and that both his girls were doing very well, but he didn’t give the all important statistical data: weight and height.

Judging by the pictures, I’d say she’s came in close to the suspected weight of 8lbs plus. Since Suzanne is a petite woman with a marathon runner’s body, I can only imagine that the eventual c-section was a blessing.

Congratulations, Suzanne and T. on the arrival of your beautiful daughter.

no. 450 – Foa Pa

It’s time for that favorite segment of our program: Interactive Fashion Faux Pas (aka Fashion Fuck Ups)!

Admittedly, I’m not Stacy or Clinton, but what I lack in fashion sense I make up in common sense. Isn’t that all one needs to get through the day without finding one of your husband’s socks clinging for dear life to the back of your blouse? I’ve learned to check a mirror, front and back, before leaving my home. I always take a few practice squats in the dressing room when trying on trousers/slacks/pants/britches et al to avoid embarrassment later.

Now granted, these steps have not been able to ensure my underwear go on correctly, but hey, that’s my private issue to share with the world wide web only.

On that vein, the last thing I want to see while eating in the cafeteria is a fellow employee’s red thong studded with red rhinestones eying me evilly above the wearer’s ill-fitted pants. Worse is that I know this employee has to squat and bend repeatedly in her office where she works with children. I wouldn’t want to see any granny panties, either, but red, bling-ey thongs shout SLUT, whereas the aforementioned granny panties announce COMFORTABLE SO DEAL WITH IT.

Also, if while you are pulling on your nylons the material snags repeatedly on your tree-bark-like heels, take a minute or two and coat them with some lotion, vaseline, motor oil, something! It’s sandal season. I shouldn’t feel compelled to lift your foot like some farrier and rasp off the barnacles you have hanging over the edges of your shoes.


Did I say this was interactive?

Oh…Yes I did.

What fashion or personal care faux pas makes you compelled to write a ranting post specifically about the topic?

no. 427 – Sing It With Me

I’m nearly 40 years old (39 years and 10 months – more or less).

So why-oh-WHY do I still have to sing the alphabet to myself as a way to recall the order of a certain range of letters, I-J-K-L??

I watched LOST for the first time this season. I feel like the one who is lost! What the hell happened? Why is this guy still topping the scales at over 300lbs for the third season in a row being stranded on a (mostly) deserted island. Is he eating The Others?

Holy crap! He’s from Nebraska.

no. 413 – Do’s & Don’ts: Tube Tops


Don’t wear a tube top when the temperatures are below 80 degrees F. I say, it’s a bit nipply in here.

Don’t wear a tube top, especially one of jersey-knit material, without proper foundation clothing. -p-Ting! p-Ting!

Don’t wear a tube top to Mass, unless you are using it as a layer under a cardigan or shrug. So where does one hold a Rave early Sunday morn?

Don’t wear a tube top if you are further along than 8 months pregnant. Turkey’s done…all three of them!

(I should mention that it was one siting that inspired all of these Don’ts.)



Is there ever a "DO" when it comes to tube tops?




In my web-search for some great visuals, I found this website that actually highlighted a crochet tube top. I won’t link directly to that entry because I think the whole site – including the comments – bears equal attention. Oh, the giggling I did.

no. 410 – Adjective Trap (Corrected Link)

I read this article in one of the papers today at lunch. I would love to go further into the "labeling" we see more and more of (in spite of, or because of – Political Correctness?) but I’ve been pleasantly busy.

What next? IUI Daughter? IVF Son? Donor Sperm Twins? Donor Egg Siblings?

"As a child is a child, a family is a family", no matter the means it was achieved; so if we shudder at the above adjectives, then we should re-examine how we use Step-, Foster-, and Adopted-.

..or maybe even…Biological-.

(My sincere apologies as I was trying to post on the fly. I think I now have it going to the correct publication.)

no. 404 – In Your Opinion…(*Edited to elicit more indignation)

We have not booked our flights yet for our trip to SC. Which online sites do you have the best luck with when purchasing etickets?

I have been using Bloglines for a long time now, which many of you use as well. However, I’ve been noticing more and more using Google Read. What can you tell me about Google Read as far as advantages and disadvantages to Bloglines? Are any of you using another type of notification system that you are happy with?

Would an employee be overreacting if their performance report was faxed, without permission, to a counselor with the employer’s Eee A P.rogram? Should that employee agree to letting the counselor report back to the supervisor detailed progress reports?

Once I hit publish, I hope to sleep better tonight.

* Edited: The employee actually found out that their performance report was faxed when the confirmation page that the fax machine spits out was placed in their mailbox by another (unknown) employee in the department. The confirmation page was a snap shot of the first page of the review in all it’s detailed glory. The lesson here? Always, ALWAYS, use a cover page. Yes, this "oversight" was brought to the attention of the supervisor by the afore mentioned employee.

no. 388 – I’ll be Damned

I have had some pretty crappy advice and comments handed to me over the past in relationship to our infertility and miscarriages. They are equally spread out between friends, family and even strangers. They range in ignorance, from the outwardly rude (“I don’t know why you bother trying," said by my MIL after our 3rd miscarriage) to the painfully innocent (“It’s God’s will," said by just about every one after each of the three miscarriages).

But I have to admit that I never felt as if these comments were made maliciously or with the intent to hurt me. Their ignorance has made me angry on the inside, but I accept that if nothing else, they are only trying to reach out in their own way. We are only human after all, and as such, not everyone has the experience sometimes necessary to “say the right thing”. I’m not that cruel to wish this misery on anyone just so they can “get it”.

So we try to educate our friends and families, whether it’s through our blogs, or letters, or one-on-one discussions, on what is the “right” thing to say. And wow! Someone actually listened. Someone out there who had some clout went out and created some “coping” cards for couples facing infertility and miscarriage.

And guess what?

We get pissy about that, too.

I understand that having our bodies totally fuck us in all the wrong ways makes us angry and bitter. I am very angry and very bitter. No more or no less than any of us struggling through infertility. But I don’t understand why when someone attempts something new, something we’ve grumbled about being ignored in the past, we still gnash our teeth.

I have several sympathy cards from my first miscarriage. I didn’t need one specifically stating, “Hey, sorry your unborn baby died during your second trimester. That must really suck.” But if someone had given me one of these new cards, I would have been just as moved as I was when I received the one that was blank except for the “I’m sorry” written inside. It shows that someone was thinking enough about my pain to go and pick out a damn card. It could have said “Congratulations on you new job!” and I still would have been touched.

On my third miscarriage? I didn’t get shit. I even joked with a couple of co-workers that they should get me a card. Even one with a naked guy on it to help pick me up. Guess what? They didn’t and maybe it’s because I wasn’t “serious” enough. Kudos to the pregnant co-worker who was the only one in my office who acknowledged my miscarriage by submitting a comment on my blog.

Maybe you all think this attempt with the cards was stupid or ill conceived. I don’t. I’m not embarrassed to admit that sometimes it really is the thought that counts. And I know there were some others out there who also thought it was a good idea…until there was some ridicule and now tunes are being changed. The only negative observation I have is that who else besides those of us who read about it in the news or blogs would ever think to get one? I can’t think of one person IRL who’s going to walk into Hallmark and say, "Do you have anything for someone going through donor intra-uterine insemination because of male-factor infertility?"

Why should we expect these corporations to even bother trying? They go from hearing "Pay attention to us! Just because we’re infertile doesn’t mean we aren’t regular consumers!" to "Why are you mocking us? How dare you make money off of our misery!"

Damned if they do; damned if they don’t.

no. 384 – My Funky Little Valentine

I am in a






Reeeaally? you say.

Just thought I’d get that out there. You know. In case anyone was wondering.

Jess from O Mama Mia sent me these buttons a week ago and they have been languishing for the spotlight. She’s a woman after my own heart. How appropriate with today being Valentine’s Day. (whoopee)

Guess which one is my favorite?

Which one is yours?


Lockload Crabby Shrink


Dd_sealAlso, Lala sent this to me (I’m embarrassed to admit…last year)(when I was dooced) and I have never figured out how to put pictures on TypePad’s sidebar.

Meg from (journey to the centre) and I have been emailing back and forth about javascripts and somesuch, foreign-to-my-brain, tekkie jargon, but I feel like a real jack-monkey for not being able to figure it all out by myself. Plus, Meg is busy gestating or some such thing and I feel if I keep bugging her, it’s going to put her into early labor. Or just make her hate  me.

I’m just not up to thinking right now. Work is a brain-drain and life is just generally about living right now.

Funny how that is.

And you guys were just way too damn nice on my Opinions Are Like Assholes. I must bring out the best of you. Sadly, I don’t have anyone to award my troll pin (above) to. *sob*

no. 372 – True Person Confession

Secret SSSsssshhhhhhh….

…I’ve got a secret. It’s not necessarily a juicy secret, which I guess will be a matter of perspective.

Also, if you prefer to continue keeping the fantasy you have about me being of such unearthly virtuous beauty, of such elegance and finesse, well then, you might want to skip the rest of this post.

Or even if you would like to believe that I have maybe just a little bit of class and sense of respectability…


I tried to warn you.

Secret2 Yep. That’s right. I pick my nose.

I don’t know what to say to those of you, who against super-human odds, are able to restrain yourself, except maybe "I’m sorry you had to find out this way." But, hey, it feels good, I tell you (except of course when you get the dried booger that actually pulls out one of your nose hairs… because OMG that hurts!).

Secret3 Hmmmmm, what’s this?

Secret4 Feh.

Secret5 Uh, would you mind knocking, please? Can’t you see I’m trying to…uh…concentrate? *whistles nonchalantly*

no. 368 – A Commercial Break

I don’t get it. Brian and Heather dated for seven years. They are splitting after one year of marriage.

Did he really change that much in six months? Did she? It’s not like either one of them could have been surprised, unless of course, they each started acting like normal, fucking human beings.

Maybe she realized he was geeky without makeup.

Maybe he realized she was a prude in bed.

Celebrities are stupid.