Dear friend, you’re ruining my life.

by jlolb

Good news: I’m not pregnant. Bad news: she is.

My very good friend got pregnant, and it’s ruining my life. No longer can I count on her to be in to go out for drinks after a long, stressful day at the office. It’s turned from, “Yeah, that sounds good, sweet dude, let’s go get beers” to “Oh, I would, but I can’t drink and it’s smoky and I’ll just be a downer.” Awesome.

Then there’s the whole puking thing. The other day, said friend came into my office to chat, and in the middle of conversation, she walks over, grabs my garbage can, and sits back down with the trash bin between her knees. Now, I don’t know about you, but that makes it a little hard to carry on a conversation. I’m interested in talking about hotties and the latest drama on our favorite tv shows, but that’s extremely hard when I am constantly concerned about the fact that she is going to barf in my garbage can, subsequently, I’ll do the same thing as my gag reflex is the weakest imaginable at which point I don’t know what I will do as the trash can is no longer within my reach since she’s taken it across the room. Sheesh.

On top of that, she has decided that she loathes our favorite Mexican restaurant. This restaurant is our caloric touchstone–the place that we sometimes at 3 times a week; the place with the best salsa, and warm chips; the place where the waiters knew us and what kinds of special needs we required. Yep. She decided to puke it out her nose and then, poof, Amazing Mexican Restaurant ran far far away from our list of lunching options. Since then, she’s decided that she dislikes my 2nd food weakness–Chinese. At the mention of Chinese today, she said, “you have to stop saying that word,” in a voice that made it obvious she was fighting off the urge to hurl the grapes she’d just eaten.

On top of all of these pregnancy symptoms, she’s decided to tighten her budget. Essentially, this means that anything we used to be able to do for fun during this pregnancy which didn’t involve booze, Mexican or Chinese food is now stricken from the list. Yep, all the fun stuff, gone. Movies, popcorn, binge eating, mid-day trips for ice cream…gone. Budget smudget.

Dear friend, you’re ruining my life.

I only kid, dear friend. You know that I cannot wait for this little baby to enter the world and be my new friend, and I really actually do like to talk about baby names and trying to convince you to buy this baby new bedding, and I do feel bad that you’re sick all the time and want to harf your guts out on a daily basis. I do. So, I hope that this blog doesn’t affect the relationship we have during your pregnancy–it was intended for entertainment purposes only! I swear. Love you friend.

And dear baby, hurry up and get here so me and momma can go get shit-faced!

Oh, and get this dear reader. She has NOW DECIDED THAT SHE CAN’T EVEN TALK SHIT ABOUT LIFE WITH ME. She’s on this whole, “I’m going to be positive and not have a black heart and be nicer to people and now everything we used to do is shot and now everything we used to spend money on is shot and now everything we used to bitch about is also shot because I am focusing my energy on finding my center and being a more positve person” kick.

Wow. My life is ruined. Have you ever tried to talk shit about life when no one talks back? Not nearly as gratifying.

Friend, call me in November.