Drugstore Diore: Max Factor Lash Perfection

I was running low on my Diorshow and had heard good things about Max Factor: Lash Perfection. I was a fan of 2000 calories in my poor college days. Truth be told, I'm a a fan of Max Factor, one of my favorite drugstore buys. The stuff works. I DO NOT clump at all. Let's be honest, Dior gets a bit clumpy. My eye lashes get very long (I have long eye lashes to start with) and with 2 coats I achieve my happy thickness (I like crazy thick, it's my thing). Dior thickens a bit better. I suspect 3 coats of Max Factor will give me the crazy thickness that I get from 2 coats of Dior. But honestly for $6.98, fuck Dior.

Wanting

We're always wanting for something.

My in-laws during a mid-Summer cleaning found many games and toys covered in dust. They realized, many years too late, that it was time to donate games like the teenage mutant ninja turtles puzzles to the Goodwill because their boys had all grown up. My MIL looked nostalgic as she told me, "it was just yesterday that they were running around the house... how quickly they grow up." I looked at my husband, his head nestling my bosom, and I realized how quickly almost 3 years of marriage has passed by. I was completely overcome with emotion.

Something inside of me changed. I want kids but I don't need them. I need my husband. This man has made an impression in my heart that makes my soul ache when he's not near. I know -- overly sappy and overly emotional. I can't help but feel this way. I am blessed beyond blessed for having my husband in my life. I never thought it was possible to love another human being so completely.

During this battle with trying to get pregnant, many times I feel as if God has abandoned me. I cry out, "woe is me, why oh why won't you give me a child?" God has given me something quite precious. I can't compare a husband to a child, I don't have to. I am simply grateful for what I have.

It's 1:35 AM and I can't sleep. Hubby flew out last minute, cutting his vacation short, for a business trip in NYC. Oh how I miss his face. I just want to kiss him one more time. Hug him. Cuddle him. Fall asleep with my head on his chest.

My heart feels like it's about to burst. And I'm happy in my sorrow.

Can I Return Her?

I have been fucked up all weekend. A fever quickly followed the distended belly.

[Conversation between hubby and mom]

Hubby: Mummyji, I'm returning her to you.
Mom: Okay beta.
Hubby: Fix her. My toy is broken.
Mom: I'll try to fix her.
Hubby: I have a lifetime manufacturer's warranty.

[After my fever passed]

Hubby: Mummyji, please give me my toy back.

Great to know I'm a commodity;)

Ovulation

I can't explain how good it feels to look at my basal body temperature chart and clearly see that I ovulated. I don't remember the last time that happened. Clomid has made me feel normal. I ovulated! I ovulated! I know that ovulation doesn't guarantee pregnancy but it's nice to know that the the drug worked and it induced ovulation. It feels good to know that I have a shot at getting preggo this cycle.

The only problem is that Clomid caused a cyst to form and burst on my ovary. Of course this all went down while I was at a conference for work. I was sitting at at a luncheon meeting and my stomach started hurting. I tried to ignore the pain. It became unbearable. I could barely walk out of the conference. The pain was crippling. I made it to my car and laid down in my car for over an hour. I mustered enough strength to drive home. I felt constant stabs in my ovaries and lower abdomen. Hands down -- the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. My ovaries because hyper stimulated. My abdomen was flooded with water. I've been home since Wednesday with such a distended belly that I could no longer fit into my clothes. Finally, today, the swelling is going away. My doctor is monitoring me. Utter. Complete. Hell. But completely worth it for tubby.

So it's yet to be determined whether or not I can go on Clomid next cycle. If the drug caused ovarian cysts than Clomid will be a big no-no.

The trials and tribulations of fertility.

Mom vs. MIL

There are many differences between my mom and MIL. Don't get me wrong, my MIL is very sweet and has been wonderfully kind to me since Fall of 2005. But my mom has that spunk and is much more of a free spirit. And she's my mom. Mom is mom.

Both my MIL and my mom tried to teach me how to wear a sari. Of course I was able to really learn from my mom this Saturday b/c she just knows how to communicate with me...she gets my lingo. I went to my bedroom to change into a tank top (couldn't find a blouse) and petticoat for my sari lesson. I put on a pink tank top. The tank matched my pink little girl's underwear perfectly (girl's undies are adorable, fit my little tush and are mad cheap). I thought I looked so cute! I immediately hopped to the living room where hubby, maashi and my mom were chillaxing. I exclaimed, "mom don't I look so cute?" My mom said, "Yes you do. Super woman." We all giggled.

This would NEVER go down at my in-laws.

Bangladeshi/Bengali

Some say potato....

Some say poe-tot-oe

I only recently (year or so) have heard the term Bangladeshi, by a mean beotch of a girl. FYI: My family has always referred to us as Bengali.

[Setting some bar circa 2006]
Beotch: Are you South Asian?
Me: Yupsters
Beotch: Where you from?
Me: I'm Bengali.
Beotch: No you're not.
Me: [Confused] Uhm. Yes I am.
Beotch: Where are your parents from?
Me: Bangladesh
Beotch: You don't look Bangladeshi either.
Me: Where are you from?
Beotch: I'm Gujarati.
Me: [Just to be spiteful] Interesting. You certainly don't look Gujarati.

[Phone with mom circa 2006]
Me: Mom, are we Bengali or Bangladeshi?
Mom: WHAT??
Me: I dunno. Is there a difference.
Mom: Are you crazy or something? It's the same thing. [muttering] This girl knows nothing.

Looks like dictionary[dot]com is as confused as I am. Definition of Bengali (n) varies:
1) a native or an inhabitant of Bengal
2) an ethnic group speaking Bengali and living in Bangladesh and eastern India

I think I'll stick with Bengali Chick versus Bangladeshi Chick thanks to urban dictionary:

bengali, usually followed by the word chick or girl, then by a drool. bengali chicks are hotttt!!!!

Are You Registered?

Today is the one month anniversary of my father's death. Let's not lose another person to cancer.

Nookie @ the Office

Sex has been damn awesome. I could have died after my last orgasm a happy woman. We've managed to do it almost every single day since my period (we missed one day). We've kept it fun and naughty. During one session of the nasty, I asked to be spanked. Who knew that spanking could be so much fun?

Hubby informed me that he will be pulling an all-nighter at the office. Not cool. I will be going to hubby's office tonight for a 10 PM date. People in hubby's line of work are PSYCHO and there is a good chance they too will be working until the wee hours of the morning. We certainly don't want someone barging in on us! The plan is to rendezvous at the basement women's bathroom. I'll meet hubby at a stall in only a red trench coat, sans panties of course! Just thinking about this is getting me all hot and bothered.

A tip for bathroom sex: Choose a handicapped stall. Girlie needs to bend over and hold on to those railings on the side of the stall. May have to wiggle ass up or down a bit so guy can successfully insert the penis.

Happy 4th of July

This is the first holiday without dad. It's strange. I wonder if any holiday will ever be as good with this void in our lives.
We're making the most out of the 4th as we can. My mom is here. This means that my apartment is spotless b/c she cleaned it like a PSYCHO yesterday (I'm talking deep cleaning people). This means that I have eaten far too many meals. This also means my lunch will be packed for work tomorrow as it has been all week. Thanks Mom!

She's happiest being here with me and hubby. It just breaks my heart every time my mom says, "I wish your dad were here. He would love this." I know he would.

Safe and happy 4th to all:)

Thank You -- Isn't Enough

To my friends ~ I couldn't have gotten through the funeral without you.

Bad Blogger

I know -- I haven't blogged in forever. My mom's in town. More to come.