Digital Epidural, Volume 12

Last week Stephen and I went to the doctor to get our second sonogram.

It was a special experience seeing the baby so developed. Those fuzzy black and white screens make our child much more real and tangible. However, perhaps merely to provide me with blogging material, the staff at the office did two things that seriously irked me during our visit.

First, Stephen and I have decided to not find out the sex of the baby. I know there are many people that don't comprehend the desire to be surprised, but the unknown-factor is something we are extremely excited about. I was under the impression this was a personal decision that had no relevant impact on other people's lives, let alone a stranger. Far too often, this impression has proven to be false.

Before I begin my rant, though, my compliments to the lady who performed our sonogram. She was more than happy to peacefully and non-argumentatively acquiesce to our request. I don't know whether or not she determined the gender in the process, but either way, she didn't make note of it in her documentation. I appreciate that -- that way no one else can accidentally let it slip. Personally, all I gathered from the visuals is that there's a 50% chance it's a boy and a 50% chance it's a girl. Stephen thinks there is a 1% chance it's a kitten, but that theory was quickly vanquished by our doctor.

After we were done with the sonogram, they took me back to an exam room to do all the other fun things that are part of a routine visit. This is where our gender-mystery decision became a matter of public debate. When the nurse came in to take my blood pressure, before anything else, she made it clear that she thought we had lost all sense of rational thought. No "hello" or "how are you feeling?' or "my, what a lovely pair of shoes" -- just, "I hear you aren't finding out the sex. Why not?"

Lovely.

After a series of comments about the purposeful absence of any shred of mystery in her life, she hit us with the second most popular question we get asked, "But how will you know what to buy at the store?" (the most popular being, "How will you know what to do with your nursery?")

Ok . . . at the risk of over reacting I will simply speak my mind.

Are you kidding me? Every time I am asked this question, I become more and more unreasonably agitated. Mother Nature has kindly provided us a smorgasbord of colors to choose from outside of manly blue and girly pink. I was so wound up -- I'm surprised I didn't burst the blood pressure cuff.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind if someone is just curious about the sex -- that's the whole point. I suppose I have simply tired of the interrogation into the reasons why we would recklessly subject ourselves to the unknown like this. Likewise, I don't give the third degree to folks to choose to share in that special moment of discovery prior to the birthday.

So just to put a nice little bow on the issue, I will quote my articulate husband and his philosophy on the matter. He really only says this to me, but I think it's worth sharing here.

"When I compare the excitement I get from anticipating that moment of discovery with the ability to gender-specifically decorate and personalize a nursery -- I choose the one that I will treasure forever."

Not everyone treasures the same things, but that's why we have made the decision to keep it a mystery.

So back to my trip to the doctor.

The second offense (which was really a bunch of offenses rolled into one person) came in the form of my doctor's PA. She started off by being the second person to point out the foolishness of our not-finding-out-the-sex ways. She continued her encouraging talk by informing me that my placenta was "a little low". When I asked about it -- she wasn't worried because in 99% of cases it moves up, so no need for concern.

OK, but I wanted to know what happens if it doesn't move up.

Her response came in two parts.

Part one: a short in-take of oxygen, coupled with a painful grimace. Not just a standard in-take of air. One of those one-second bursts where you use your saliva and your mouth to make that atrocious sound that comes out when you are imagining someone scratching their nails on a chalkboard.

Part two: "Oh, don't worry, it will."

Ignoring the apparent contradictions in this two part response, there was the bigger issue of my question. The last time I checked, I was at a doctor's office, not a psychic reading.

It was like pulling teeth to get her to tell me what happens if it doesn't move. And would you like me to share with you the horrendous consequences of it not moving? The mysterious consequence would be a C-Section: a procedure that has been done successfully millions of times before.

Again, maybe this is just another of my unreasonable tirades against the innocent, but don't you think it would be better "bedside manner" to have just answered the question instead of hemming and hawing about how there was no cause for concern since the issue would resolve itself? Just my thoughts on that.

But the fun wasn't over. It wasn't just my misplaced placenta that she didn't want me to worry about -- I also needed to not panic about how I was tipping the scales. She noted, "I see your weight has gone up a bit, but since you've been playing catch up I'm not too worried, just keep the recent increase in mind." (Oh I'll keep it in mind... in fact I'll blog about it next week! . . . I didn't say that . . . but anyway . . . )

Would you like me to share with you the insane amount of weight I have gained in 22 weeks of pregnancy? You should be sure you're sitting down because the grotesqueness of this will knock your socks off. Are you ready?

Seriously, you're sitting down right?

I have gained a mind-boggling 2 pounds in 22 weeks. 2 pounds!

I know, I know, I'm a serious fatty and need to seek intervention. I'm already consulting a gastric bypass surgeon -- so rest easy: our genderless baby won't have to deal with a mother that resembles a Dallas Cowboy lineman. They'll have enough emotional damage to deal with anyway -- with their non gender-specific nursery and all. : )

I wanted to smack her over the head with the computer screen sitting behind her. But I thought better of it and just smiled politely instead. I knew I had a digital epidural on the way.

Digital Epidural, Volume 2

Last week Stephen and I went for my 12 week check-up with my doctor. This was weird since I was almost 14 weeks, but it had to be put off because my doctor had to perform a surgery the day I was originally supposed to do my 12 week check-up. I could have rescheduled with her PA for the next day but since I'd never actually met my doctor, I thought that would be a good first step in our relationship.

We got to hear the heartbeat for the first time which was really cool. Apparently the baby was moving around a lot because they would find it, then lose it, find it again, then lose it again. Since I haven't gained any weight yet and I can't feel the baby yet, it's good to have these little milestones to assure me that there's still a baby inside me.

After she did the examination (which was rather quick and did not require me to remove any clothing -- always a plus), she asked me if I had any questions. I did have a list of questions and felt kind of embarrassed about the last one:

Me: Well, I'm going to Spain in about a month, and . . . um, I've heard that maybe it might be OK. . . Well some of my friends who've had babies said their doctors said it was OK if, um, maybe you had, um, like, um, maybe a, um, glass of wine, um, you know, um, maybe once a week . . . weak laugh.

Doctor: Well . . . I normally tell my patients to abstain entirely from alcohol since we don't really know how much is too much but. . . I guess if you were to just have a glass very occasionally, it would be OK since you're out of your first trimester.

So, the first time I meet my doctor and now she probably thinks that:

(a) I don't care about my baby;

(b) I'm an alcoholic;

or (c) both of the above.

I'm smooth like that.

Friday Night Lights

Friday Night Lights is, by far, our favorite new show. I read, elsewhere, the show described as follows:

"...each and every episode of this NBC series is top-notch and strikes me as some of the best acting, production, writing and passion on television. It is also honest and simple in ways that Grey's Anatomy or Lost (both good shows) are not."

We recommend you check it out, if you haven't already. Don't be surprised when you realize it's not about football.

If you enjoy a tasty treat...

Thanks to my buddy James, I have discovered the greatness that is Session Beer. The tastiest beer I have had in a stubby brown bottle.

Always use an ice chest

Last weekend Shelley and I hosted a "Couples Wedding Shower" for my good friend and business partner, Chris, and his beautiful fiancee, Melanie. It was a big soiree that brought nearly thirty people into our home. I was a bit concerned about fitting that many people into our domicile, but as it turns out, we have a much higher seating capacity than I anticipated. Most of the people in attendance were strangers to me, but everyone seemed very kind, gracious and thoughtful.

There was, however, one anonymous visitor who left an indelibly negative impression. This is their story.

A Saturday night party at The Boudreausian palatial estate. As one would expect, our refrigerator was brimming with liquid refreshment of all types. One item in particular was in vast supply: beer. Namely, we had a 12 pack of Heineken (one of my favorites) and 24 bottles of Shiner Bock (a popular choice for other folks). For a party of this size, there was plenty of beer to go around.

Tucked in the back of the fridge was a lone bottle. A bottle who traversed the Atlantic, legally immigrated across our borders, and found a new home in our Jenn-Air fridge. This bottle of icy cold delight contained a special Italian beer that I enjoy above all others. Its name: Peroni. Its taste: heavenly. And so there it sat. The last of a six pack. Pushed to the very back of the shelf to make room for the influx of our party beverages. You must understand: in order to even find this bottle, one would have to dig through an obstacle course of bottled beer.

As the merrymaking was nearing its conclusion, I began picking up some of the empty plates, cups and bottles that were lying around the house.

A few empty bottles by the couch. Got'em.

A plate with a half-eaten chicken breast and dirty napkins on the coffee table. Got it.

A mostly empty cup of frozen margarita on a chair. Into the trash with you!

A nearly full bottle of Peroni on the ledge... wait... WHAT?

I stopped dead in my tracks. Who? What? How?

Shelley noticed my sudden jolt of horror. I raised my hand and pointed in disbelief. I looked at Shelley. She looked at me. My expression spoke for itself as she empathized with my pain. My astonishment. A hug from my lovely bride was my lone, but pleasant, consolation.

Now it's not that I wouldn't have shared my last bottle of Peroni with a guest. In fact, it would have been a moment of kinship. Of great satisfaction. Face to face with a kindred spirit in the beer drinking community. We would have been eye to eye, affirming one another with knowing grins.

But that was not how things transpired. A much more inconsiderate path was chosen by this secret, one-sip, peroni-hating, party attendee.

First: they had to make the effort to dig through the fridge.

Ok, so maybe not everyone likes Shiner. I know I'm not a big fan. Perhaps Heineken is too trite an import for the more astute drinker. To each his or her own.

But after seeking out an alternate beer, they knowingly took the very last bottle of this Italian treat. And then -- and this is tragic end of this melodramatic tale - after opening the bottle... they took a singular sip. Put the bottle on the ledge of a wall nook. And walked away.

Forever.

Un-freaking-believable.

This, my friends, is why people use ice chests.

Smooth as silk

A surprising twist of fate befell me last week.

Last Tuesday as Shelley was packing her bags for a brief stay in Tampa Bay on business, she mistakenly smuggled my Gillette Mach 3 razor to the southeastern peninsula.

There I was. Alone. Scruffy. Razorless. If the story ended here, surely this would be just another sad, hopeless tale about a guy who couldn't shave . . . or slit his wrists. But no, my friends. For the sake of all things unimportant enough to blog about, the story does not end there.

A simple packing error turned into the closest shave of my life.

That afternoon I went to Walgreens on a mission. A mission to not only find a new razor, but to upgrade my shaving experience. You see, when it comes to facial hair, I may have a few patches that run the race a little slower than the others . . . but where it grows, it grows like marijuana fields in Mexico.

The Mach 3 has always done only a semi-decent -- albeit unspectacular -- job at cleaning me up. Moreover, I have always loathed having to devise a financing plan to cover the overpriced Mach 3 razors. Needless to say, all of this caused me to be quite skeptical regarding what I believed was Gillette's over hyped, overpriced new five blade, money-sucking, face-shaving mechanism: the Fusion.

As I examined the competition, though, I was left with only one conclusion: Gillette is the Microsoft of the shaving kingdom.

First we have Bic. They offer a variety of face cutting tools I liken to orange pixie sticks with an edge. These things look like they could no more easily erase my facial hair than one of their classic erasable ink-ball pens. Perhaps I won't entrust my cheeks to a company whose logo is a man's body whose head has been replaced with a magic eight ball. My sources say no.

Next.

Schick seems like the most viable of adversaries to the shaving giant. But they are certainly no Apple in Microsoft's eye. One reason being, Apple is awesome. Schick is not.

The "Quattro", Schick's premier offering, may be good enough for Andre Agassi's bald cranium, but this wasn't my first encounter with this four-bladed shear. Once in a fit of rage about having to relinquish three tons of bullion in order to purchase an 8-pack box of Mach 3 razors I ended up with a 4-pack of Quattros. I should have thrown in a value-sized carton of Band-Aids.

Was there no worthy competitor in the face razor market?

I briefly recalled watching a movie where John Wayne used something that looked like a machete to shave his chin. After a brief mental assessment of our kitchen knife catalog I decided the butcher's knife was better left to chop the raw meat, not create it.

There was always waxing. Laser surgery. Maybe a patchy beard?

No . . . none of these was going to work for me.

But there he was. My old nemesis. Mocking me for even thinking I could be like John Wayne.

Five blades? That's preposterous. Who needs five blades to shave their face? (Not to mention that sixth blade for those tough spots to reach) Who wants to commit to leveraging a second mortgage to pay for cheeks a smooth as a baby's bottom?

Who?

Apparently, I fit that description quite well. After only a moment's hesitation to do a quick mental reworking of my household budget, I reached for the Fusion.

There it was in my hands. I turned for the cash register. What was I doing? Was I out of my mind? I have resented that Mach 3 for the better part of the past 10 years!

: : dramatic pause : :

Seven days have passed since I sold my shaving soul to the Fusion. I must confess I have no regrets. This is the finest shave I have ever experienced. Shelley is on the verge of Fusion conversion and soon, we will all become part of the Gillette matrix.

These cheeks are as smooth as silk and, in what can only be described as an ironic twist, I can push off shaving for an extra day if I prefer.

Eat your heart out John Wayne.

Thanks to Tivo

I have discovered the greatness that is "24".

(side note: Tivo is absolutely amazing.)

Vitamin Water

Vitamin Water is my new beverage of obsession. I drink about five of these delicious treats a week.

Wicked

This past weekend Shelley and I went and saw a splendid new musical called "Wicked" at the Fair Park Music Hall.

What is Wicked about, you ask? (yes... I believe you just asked.)
The Playbill summarizes it as follows:

Long before Dorothy dropped in, two other girls meet in the Land of Oz. One, born with emerald-green skin, is smart, fiery and misunderstood. The other is beautiful, ambitious and very popular. How these two unlikely friends end up as the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch makes for the most spellbinding new musical in years.

Shelley and I both absolutely loved the show. It was both very funny and heartwarming, not to mention a creative and riveting tale. The music, of course, was quite memorable. In fact, Shelley and I are still singing many of the songs off-key around the house.

Recommended Reading

SO YOU WANT TO BE A ROCK AND ROLL STAR
How I Machine-Gunned a Roomful Of Record Executives and Other True Tales from a Drummer's Life

This book is a definite must-read for anyone who has ever dreamed of rock and roll stardom.
It is written by the drummer of the rock band "Semisonic" (Jacob Slichter) and is the personal account of their rise and subsequent fall from rock stardom.

"So You Want to be a Rock and Roll Star" is hilariously insightful and well written. Slichter neither discourages or encourages his particular career path, but rather just tells a great story. He writes with a humorous and self-deprecating
tone that, in my opinion, was the strongest element of the book.

The book has the frank honesty of a journal, but the quick pace and drama of a movie. You won't regret picking this one up.

Real Rhapsody

If you :

- Are a fan of music
- Spend a lot of time near a computer
- Have an extra $10 a month

Then I would recommend trying out Real Rhapsody. It's a subscription based, on-demand music catalog that allows you to listen to and download from over 1,000,000+ songs. We've been subscribed for about three months and absolutely love it. You can connect it to your home stereo and have a virtually limitless music library available to listen to. You only have to purchase songs if you want to burn them to a CD.

Unfortunately for mac users, Rhapsody only works on PCs for now. Fortunately, the Boudreausian household has both a mac and a pc. One loaded with songs from Rhapsody and the other from iTunes. :) Although, I doubt I will use iTunes again since purchasing songs from Rhapsody is ten cents less expensive than iTunes.

Rhapsody also offers a service called Rhapsody-to-Go, which for $15 a month you can put all your downloaded songs on your portable mp3 player. Unfortunately, iPod doesn't support these files yet... which happens to be my portable player of ownership... so I haven't upgraded to this service. I am debating whether or not to wait until iPod supports Rhapsody files (if ever) or just getting another mp3 player.

The Office

So a few weeks ago my buddy Ryan asked me, "Have you heard of 'The Office'?" When I answered no, it was only a matter of time before he had gotten the complete series on DVD in my hands.

Last night, Shelley and I completed watching the final episode of the BBC show and I have to say -- this series was quite possibly one of the funniest things I have ever watched. Through both seasons and the concluding specials, there was never a dull moment or wasted scene. Of course, the British accents were difficult to decipher at times.

If you are a fan of "mock-umentaries" like Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, Spinal Tap, etc... then you just might find this show to your liking. One word of warning, though, the humor is pretty raunchy. This is not what one would describe as "safe for the whole family".

Enjoy.

NetFlix

MOVIES, MOVIES, MOVIES...

As many of you know, we are big fans of movies. Unless there is just absolutely nothing even remotely interesting to see (which has happened a lot lately), we usually make it to the theater three or four times a month. In general, we pretty much just enjoy watching, discussing, reviewing, and yes going to the movies.

But what about when we don't feel like paying close to $20 to take in a movie we aren't sure will be a winner? Well, there's always rentals... but for some time, we have been talking about joining Netflix.

Seems like a great idea. You go online, pick the movies you want, keep them as long as you'd like, and as soon as you send them back, they send you the next ones on your movie queue. Pretty simple.

Or is it?

NETFLIX EXPOSED!

Exposed as totally awesome, that is. It really is that simple. In fact, it's even better than I thought. Not only do they send you the movies (you get to have three out at a time), but they include self addressed, postage-paid packaging. You don't even have to buy a stamp. Just pop the movie in the mail and your next one arrives a couple days later. Brilliant!

WHAT'S IN YOUR WALLET?

On top of that, the no late fees aspect of it all has instantly put money in my wallet. I think I am currently financing my late fees to Blockbuster over the next 72 months.

PRO CHOICE

Another benefit is their enormous selection. With over 250,000 movies in their database, you can find most any popular, classic, indie, tv show, and documentary you can think of. It's pretty impressive.

Even more impressive is that a large percentage of the movies have trailers and previews available on their well designed, easy-to-use website. That makes it a lot easier to pick some movies you've never heard of before to your queue.

SO THERE'S THIS IDEA...

It's the closest thing I have found to my idea of having an on demand movie database subscription service. The idea is that for a monthly fee you would be able to log your satellite tv service into a database of every move ever made... with the click of a button. There would be a sister company that would do the same with music. It would basically be pay-per-view on steroids.

Sure it'd be expensive to implement and probably to join... but that's why it just an idea.

BUT ANYWAY

Since my little idea hasn't come to fruition as of yet, Netflix is, without a doubt, an acceptable $18 a month substitute. Click here to learn more.

Cirque du Soleil

THE EXPERIENCE

So yesterday we experienced Cirque du Soleil in person for the first time. If you've never heard of Cirque or if you've never seen it in person, it will absolutely blow your mind. We saw "Verekai" under the big top set up at Fair Park in Dallas.

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

A Cirque show is a theatralized show which mixes the arts of the circus and "the street", and features original music, light effects and costumes. There are acrobatics, body contortions, singing, musicianship, comedy, drama, juggling, dancing, and well... it's like nothing you've probably seen before.

Some of the more impressive displays are put on by the acrobats, who perform without the aid of nets. It's hard to imagine the years and years of (painful) training these people have gone through to be able to perform these acts flawlessly.

WORTH A TRY

If you live in Dallas, they will be in down until December 12th. One of the most impressive things about Cirque is that the production is of the highest quality. The music and singing is performed live and is breathtaking, although secondary to the amazying physical displays.

You can also catch them on TV from time to time on the BRAVO network (if you have cable).

LEARN MORE

Learn more about Cirque, Verekai, and all their shows here.

The Lonely Island

If you've never had a chance to watch The 'Bu, you may want to check it out. Shelley and I have shared many a laugh over an episode of The 'Bu.

The Lonely Island, a group of guys who do satire-parody-comedy-bizarre-ish independent shorts on the web, has created seven episodes of the "prime time teen drama". They are all online and awaiting download.

If you're short on time (or patience), we would recommend episode one as your best bet, yet most off-the-wall episode.

http://www.thelonelyisland.com/thebu.html