Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Can't touch this.

Today was brutally hot. I succumbed to wearing the knit gauchos that I had sworn would never see the light of day outside of my apartment and a stretch puff sleeve top in the perfect shade of heather gray that accentuated my wet pits and drips of sweat running down from under my bra and onto my massive belly. Gross, I know. Way sexy. So then why, dear lord, as I walked on 14th Street between Avenue A and First Ave did I get hit on not once, but twice? Last week, I had a bum with black-face and newspapers attached to his "clothes" holler at me "Damn, I'm too late!" Instead of being offended, my husband and I just laughed. How could we not? But today...today was just wrong. One of the guys licked his lips and asked if he could rub my belly. Ew. I tried to tune the other one out, but still heard him sucking his teeth. Ugh. The things I go through for a Subway sandwich.

Luckily, these were just creepy men being gross, looking but not actually touching. However, what gives with most people feeling that they have the right to come up to me and start touching me? Where did I miss the memo on once a woman is pregnant, touching her without permission is okay? My husband can rub my belly. So can my mother. But the deli guy? My husband's drunk friends that I don't even like when they're sober? No no. I've had people ask to do it, and I suppose that's alright, at least asking before touching. But really, why do you need to at all? Trust, I have no desire to touch you. Sometimes, I see people walking towards me with their eyes growing wider and I feel like I have a glowing target hovering over my midsection. Sucking it in does nothing. I can't hide it. I just put on my plasti-smile and pray that the groping ends quickly. Should I start rubbing beer bellies? Grabbing man boobs? Where's the line?

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that people are fascinated by my belliness and all, and I don't even mind that they usually have loads of questions. I'm more than happy to oblige and help people understand the cool parts and the really not so cool parts of breeding. I'd just prefer that there wasn't an extra pair of hands on me while I preach the pregnancy truths. Good thing I've traded in my bitchiness for a wee (very wee) bit of patience and have yet to resort to violence. If you eventually see my mugshot on NY1 because I was arrested for battery...well, you know why. And um, bring bail money.

Monday, August 6, 2007

Mrs. Meyers and Me.

So my summer vacation is officially over. Wah. Didn't do so much on the fun tip, save for a trip to Coney Island and some uncomfortable shows. DID do a lot on the organizational and cleaning tip, however, getting ready for baby. I now can dedicate myself to blogging consistently again.

Something that I've noticed over the months is that I've acquired a lot of bizarre habits/cravings since pregnancy, and none of them are food related.

1. An overwhelming desire to surf and obsession with surf culture. It started by revisiting old faves like Endless Summer and watching an IFC Iconoclast episode with Laird Hamilton and Eddie Vedder, and has now progressed to me reading surfing blogs and constantly researching vacations to places that I won't be able to go to anytime soon due to the huge belly. (God bless John from Cincinnati for showing up at the right time.)

2. A desire to be physically active and do...sports, and I don't mean going to the gym, I mean sports. If you know me at all, just the fact I'm saying the word is really, really out of control.

3. Cleaning. Now, I'm still not a fan of picking things up, and have always kinda had a thing for bathroom cleaning...but it's gotten bad. Last week I got so excited at my new matching mop/broom/bucket purchase, that I had to mop and broom again, even though I had just done that 3 days prior. I also had to stop myself from cleaning the bathroom again (which was still spotless from the previous cleaning).

I blame this partially on Mrs. Meyers. If there was ever something that could get you excited about cleaning, it's these products. I love the smell so much that I can't stop using them. Also, I don't feel afraid of any fumes or anything since it's all organic and biodegradable. And lo, they are coming out with a baby line right on time for the birth of Li'l Haz. It's like she knew I needed it. Thanks Mrs. Meyers, you're a pal. I should probably seriously consider working for the company since I've turned many of my friends into converts. All hail the lemon verbena!

It's Monday. Monday is cleaning day. Time to go clean the bathroom! Hurray!

(Help me, please, I have problems.)

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Vacation...all I ever wanted.

My sincerest apologies for not having updated sooner. I've been vacationing. Kinda. You care, right?

Quick vaca recap:

-Discovered most adorablest bookstore in Greenpoint called Word. Word.

-Ended up getting free tickets to see The Slits open for Sonic Youth doing all of Daydream Nation. (More on that in a minute)

-Surprise bridal shower for my friend. Surprisingly fun. I had tears from laughing and almost peed my pants once.

-Missed TV on the Radio and Celebration due to fucking Florida-like thunderstorms + bridal shower.

-Most importantly.....SHARK WEEK!

Saturday night, we arrived at McCarren Park with blanket in tow to see Sonic Youth. The Slits were already on stage, and we found a spot towards the back on a small ramp near the pool steps, laid down our blanket and got ready for it. Dear Hubby had warned me that I would probably love them, but that I would want to punch the singer because of her superfluous between song banter. He was right. Loved them. Hated her. Remembered that I had a friend who used to make me listen to them back in the day. Sonic Youth got on shortly after. The not-empty-pool was suddenly motherfucking packed.

Husband was having a wonderful time. I like SY and all, but they're not my favorite. We had already seen them last year at one of the last shows at CBGB's, which was amazing (and not just cause I "fell" into Chloe Sevigny. HeeHee), so I was just being supportive little wifey. I was able to amuse myself with the Sunn geek. I loved him. He was hideous. He was wearing one of those hats that's half cowboy and half safari, with the little chin strap; Tevas, yes, Tevas, shorts and a Sunn 000))))) (or however you call it) t-shirt that was his cool point. His girlfriend/wifey/whatever was equally horrific with some sort of strange back rash/blackhead break out that I couldn't stop staring at because she was right in front of me. When the show started, they stood closer to the edge of the crowd, luckily still within my viewing range. Sunn geek and mate "danced" and bopped along to every song. Clearly, they were true fans, God bless them. Clearly, I was in awe. I, unfortunately, was picturing them having really awkward sex with him bopping on her as much as he was bopping to SY. I stopped looking.

After a while, I became really uncomfortable. There was no position I could sit in that would alleviate the pain in my back, alternating with the my legs that were falling asleep. I sat silently crying in pain. Husband looked over at me and noticed that I was crying and quickly packed us up and left. I felt so guilty and kept apologizing for ruining it for him. Luckily, he had seen his favorite songs, and said there were probably only 1 or 2 songs left to play and that he'd rather see me comfortable than miserable. Aww. I love him. Because of that, I decided that I shouldn't go to anymore outdoor shows. I think I'm too big now to be able to enjoy the band and be comfortable. Too much smoking everywhere. Too much heat. Too much.

Tonight, we ventured downstairs to the bar next door to see Cause Co-mmotion and the 1990s. I, frankly, can't stand the 1990s, but was willing to go because Husband loves them and said I would like the other band. Midway into Cause Co-mmotion's set I had to leave. The venue was really tiny, and while I was seated comfortably towards the back, with no smoke and a delicious Shirley Temple, Li'l Hazard decided that it was too loud and kicked the shit out of me until I got up and left.

It's official. I think I'm done with shows. Luckily, summer is almost over and I won't be missing too many more. Next summer, we can take Li'l Haz with us in a Baby Bjorn to outdoor events with little mini earplugs. Husband and I are determined to raised this kid right, and way up there on the list is having good taste in music.

So how do I entertain myself now? And don't say crossword puzzles, because I've already done almost 200 this month, and I already finished Harry Potter.

Friday, July 27, 2007


Ahh...summer in Brooklyn. The humidity. The roofs that I can't climb up to. The throngs of scabbed and pasty white legs fitted with dirty white slip-on shoes. The waddling down Bedford. The shows!

This has been the summer I've looked forward to more than any other. This summer, I have weekends off! Hooray for no more working in retail! Croquet, fairs, shows, picnics....I can do it all! I get to sit and watch people sip mimosas and sangria and not touch any of it. Oh joy of joys.

Although summer is almost half way done, and fall is just around the corner, I decided to document the shows that I've seen so far. Since this is a preggo blog though, I'm gonna take it all the way back to conception...to frigid January. After I pop, I'll have the full show listing so that when Li'l Hazard is all grown up, he can be stoked at having been to so many amazing performances.

Li'l Hazard's first show? Peter, Bjorn and John's secret show (and first show ever in the US!) at Union Hall playing as "At the Seaside!"--Amazing show.

-El Perro del Mar - I've played with dust that was more fun than this show.

-Blonde Redhead w/Fields - Fields, eh. BR? Fabulous.

-Jesus and Mary Chain (missed opening band since Hubby & pal were doing shots)

-Hungry Marching Band @ Don't Demo the Domino - Does that count? It was fun, tho!

-A Sunny Day in Glasgow - The show where Li'l Haz started kicking!

-Panda Bear - Made me really miss smoking pot. Brilliant.

-Television w/Dragons of Zynth & Apples in Stereo - DoZ are awful. Living Color and Fishbone are so much better. Missed Television & AiS because of impending thunderstorm.

-Superchunk w/others - First McCarren show. Marty Markowitz sighting! Annoying people! Surprisingly clean port-o-potties! Good hot dogs, thanks Sparky's!

-Bat for Lashes - see below.

We almost saw Happy Mondays but that show got canceled due to visa problems.

What's next for Li'l Haz? This weekend is TV on the Radio w/Celebration at McCarren. Stereo Total next month, perhaps? Who knows!?

What was your first show as a tyke? Mine? George Michael and The Bangles, Faith Tour 1988, Orange Bowl - Miami. Holla! It was my 11th birthday present. I still have the t-shirt!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Bat for Lashes

One thing that hasn't changed in my pregnancy is my love of music and my need to see a good show. I'm constantly exposed to music because I work from home and share an office with my dear husband who also works at home. He, working for a record store, is constantly listening to music. I'm usually his barometer for seeing if something is good or bad. If he gets: "what's this?", I like it...or I'll like it at least for a few seconds. If he gets: "what the fuck are you listening to?", I don't like it...and more often than not, it's some obscure late 60s Japanese psych prog band that had one pressed album of 45 copies released and in turn, apparently influenced everything I've ever listened to. He doesn't seem to understand that this doesn't make it good to me.

Recently, he discovered this youtube video that he really loved. He was on point this time...it was great. It was the video Bat for Lashes "What's a Girl To Do?" Here, I'll make it easy for you:

She's a fan of Donnie Darko, can you tell? Good, right? And how conveeeeeeenient that she was about to play a show at the Knitting Factory. Guest list!

We got there early. For the first time in our lives, we were one of the first people to arrive at a show--it was still daylight. We waited about 20 minutes for the opening act...if you could call it that. Now, usually, I'm the opinionated angry bitch who hates everything. Last night's honors went to dear, sweet hubby. Granted, Pepi Ginsberg is NOT good. I will never listen to her again, but she wasn't offensive. Hubby was angry. Like, I worried for her life kind of angry.

We were scared. We'd seen the video for BFL, and listened to the album barely once or twice. What had we gotten ourselves into? My husband was on the verge of violence, my calves were cramping and li'l Hazard was bending it like Beckham in my uterus. We looked down from the balcony and noticed a sea of very early 20 something girls and very few boys. We felt old and not ironic enough. This was not good. This was not good at all.

The stage was being set...equipment being moved. One drum in front of a microphone. Another in front of a second microphone. Guitar. Violin. Another Violin. Keyboard. Was that a sampler in the corner? Eh? Some homie in a Sepultura shirt was doing mike checks. We were really hoping he was in the band. We were surprised he didn't kill Pepi. The awful alt-rock crap ceased and 4 glittery girls walked on stage, looking like they were about to be in a Beacon's Closet photo shoot. This was not good.

Natasha Kahn held up a chain of golden bells and began to sing in French. I decided I was no longer going to look at what they were wearing (torture!) and just listen. And they blew my fucking mind. This was good. This was very very good.

Song after song, these 4 ladies switched instruments back and forth and hooked me completely. Natasha's voice was perfect. The songs were incredible. Now, picture this: if Bjork made Homogenic almost completely organically but eliminate the Bjorkish wails, add tribal drums, add lots of gold and sequins, add a little Siouxsie for fun, then close your eyes and picture yourself in the middle of the forest where all the little creatures hanging around you are slightly dangerous, but totally glittery and fun. This is Bat for Lashes.

Unfortunately, my feet and calves really started to hurt and my belly kept bumping the balcony, so we left a little early. Regardless, my advise to you is: buy the album...and if BFL is ever playing a show near you...you *must* go.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

From Martinis to Maternity

If you would have asked me a year ago what I'd be doing right now..well, it certainly wouldn't be this. I was busy planning my September wedding, and definitely still being me: a little hazardous, but mostly a good girl.

Really, I should have heeded my grandma's warning last May when she very confidently told me that I should quit smoking so much and start taking pre-natal vitamins. She said I was going to be pregnant and have a boy within a year. And he'd be a violin player. I patted her head and reassured her that it was not happening any time soon. I had things to do: get married, plan my April honeymoon (Paris is expensive, so we had to wait), and uh, you know, relish in being a newlywed! Every few weeks she would ask me if I was taking folic acid, and each time I'd say "Mami, give me two years, then I'll have a baby." She'd say, "We'll see. I'm telling you."

February 2007:

Lesson one: Listen to grandma and her tarot cards.
I was a few weeks late. But, seeing as I don't really keep track of these things because my period is usually like clockwork, I really wasn't sure. I kept saying to myself that it was coming. My husband would say, "I think you're pregnant." To which I would, of course respond, "I am a woman, I understand my body. You're a boy, you know nothing of these things." Then he would repeat himself. And then I panicked. We'd always been so careful, so very good about it all!

I can't be. (denial)
There's no way. (serious denial)
How?! (duh)
Ohhhhhh.....that night....martinis....riiiiight. (gotcha)

I took a pregnancy test one afternoon, after my husband kept insisting that I was pregnant. (I mistook a stomach flu-like situation for morning sickness once, so I just happened to have a spare one at home.) I hadn't even stopped peeing on the stick and there was already a bright blue plus sign. Oh shit.

Husband's reaction: "I told you!" Followed by kisses and him swearing to me that he wasn't mad. (I thought he would be livid...having a kid wasn't exactly on his calendar yet.)
Mom's reaction: "FINALLY!" and even though I had just sworn her to secrecy, and told her to not tell anyone until I said it was okay....she screams to her office where my aunt, grandmother and cousin all work, "JESSICA'S PREGNANT!" Thanks mom.
Grandma's reaction: "Duh, I told you. Now what colors do you want for the blanket?"

Pregnancy actually came at an okay time in my life. I had quit smoking on January 1st because I had decided that my new name was "Health" and approaching my 30th birthday I wanted to look and feel hot. I had just joined a gym. I had actually quit drinking. Well, I forced myself due to too many martinis, vodka cranberries, black outs, dancing myself literally into the ground, falling (I'll save the stories about how I got stigmata one year and bashed my face in, losing part of my eyebrow 3 weeks before my wedding, for another time. Yeah, you can call me Class.), and picking fights. I lived up to my nickname for many years, but now Hazard is about to be a mom.

July 2007:

Fast forward. My boobs are HUGE. I can't get over them. I seriously can't wait to get rid of them either. They get in the way and I feel like a lactating porn star. My belly? Huger. Luckily, since I'm having a boy (aww li'l Hazard....God help me) the belly is going straight out and nowhere else. I'm 6 1/2 months pregnant, but I can still fit into my skinny jeans! Yes, granted they are ridiculously low cut, but humor me, I'm pregnant. These things make me feel better.

Last summer, I was planning my wedding. This summer, I'm helping out with planning my baby shower which shall be a co-ed luau. Can't deal with having too many chicks around me because I'll freak the fuck out. In the grand tradition of any sort of party with me involved, there will be plenty of drinking. Not by me, of course. But, if you are coming to my luau, be warned, your humiliation is my ultimate conquest. I may be big, but I'm still a terrorist.