I’ve fallen in love with the television. It’s true, I’m pregnant and it’s the dead of winter in NYC, two things that don’t inspire venturing out to say, live a “real life”. I haven’t really watched this thing called television in quite some time. Yes, I’ve recorded Project Runway and Real Housewives of OC/NY faithfully, only to have it erased when space was needed fon the DVR for Wow Wow Wubbzy. But to sit (!!!) and watch (???). Nah. But now I’m fat, cold and dressed in stretch pants. Television is my friend!

And my new favorite? Hands down? No f*@k-ing around? It’s KELL ON EARTH. I’m drawn like a moth to a flame. I can’t stop. I love this woman! She has managed to reach deep into my guts and retrieve that tiny, small, almost dissapeared piece of me that once lived another life. She’s recusitated my demon-bitch-ball-buster. And oh how I’ve missed her. Can I tell you that it’s fabulous to once again see mere mortals cringe in the presence of my POWER? Granted, these plebians are now members of my household, markedly, my poor husband. Such a joy it was to observe the way he drew back in horror at my request of a status report on his progress in hiring movers?! How he scuttled off to rectify the situation the moment I demanded he give it his “f*@king ALL God damnit!” Our adorable dog, formerly coddled and hand fed bits of sliced turkey, has been warned. So help me, one more screw up, (i.e.pee on the zebra rug), and that lil’ yorkie terror is OUT of here!!

Fortunately, I’ve refrained so far from informing my three-year old that, “if he needs to cry, please go outside”. But as I mentioned, it’s winter and it’s brutally cold out. I am a loving and devoted mom damnit, and I will only make him go in the hallway. Not outside.
At least until the springtime.


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