Marked Drowsiness May Occur

The whole process around having a baby is weird to me. Maybe weird isn't the right word, but I can't think of anything better right now. I went to a baby shower today for one of my coworkers/friends and I had to marvel a bit in the things people do to have a baby.

Earlier this week, a friend and I made a trip to Babies R Us to buy gifts for today's shower. We printed a copy of the baby registry and set out to find a few items within our price range. I immediately was sent into sensory overload. The shelves were packed floor to ceiling with diapers, bottles, toys, strollers, and monitors. I counted at least 20 different types of pacifiers. I was drowning in sea of blue, pink, yellow, and green. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. My friend and I quickly asked sales clerk for help and got the hee-haw out of there.

Up until a few years ago, all of the baby showers I attended were for family members. Then I became an adult and all of sudden experienced the onslaught of pregnant friends. Watching someone open baby gifts is kinds of like buying a magazine that touts a fabulous cover story, and then finding out that the article is something you've already read. It's anticlimactic. Everyone knows what the showeree (?) is going to receive, and delivers the obligatory ooh's and aah's as required. And promptly gets drunk on too much mimosa.

I am being half sarcastic. My expectant friend has embraced every step of her pregnancy and she and her husband are genuinely thrilled to be having a baby. They are both smart, practical, and hard working people who I am sure will raise a wonderful little boy. And I think it's great to be able to celebrate something that is so life changing with friends and family. I'm just wondering if having a pizza-and-a-movie shower is a major faux pas. Probably another sign that I definitely should not bear offspring, eh?

So, last night a friend surprised me with tickets to Spamalot. And it was fantastic. It made me miss the high school all-nighters my friends would pull to watch Monty Python marathons. Afterwards, my friend and I headed to a local pub to have dinner with some of our other friends. Towards the end of our dinner, I headed to the bathroom and passed a huge group of guys on the way. As I turned sideways to slide between the group, one of the guys reached out and grabbed my breast. The left one! I was so completely shocked that I just stood there, mouth agape. When I was younger, being groped in a bar wasn't that odd an occurrence, especially given that I was at dance clubs with 18 and 19 year old boys. The guy last night had to have been in his 30s, and we were standing in the middle of a pub.

I finally gathered my composure as the boob grazer smirked and winked at me. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out, gave his nipple a squeeze, and proceeded to the bathroom. On my way out, his buddies were high-fiving me and giving me kudos for the avenged breast grab. As much as I wanted to be angry and feel violated, I couldn't help but feel a little proud of myself. I mean, the guy is probably just glad he didn't grab my crotch.

You're the type of guy who doesn't lie
He just doctors everything
Chooses some unassuming finger
And quietly moves his wedding ring
Who rewrites his autobiography for any pretty girl who'll sing
But you can't fool the queen, baby, cuz I married the king