So, I hear some bloggers do reviews.

Apparently you can get paid for stuff like that.

I am now about to demonstrate why nobody will ever hire me to review their product.

Product: MotherLove More Milk Plus

Claim: “A safe and effective herbal formula designed to quickly increase breast milk for breastfeeding mothers.”

Effectiveness according to me: Hey, you know what? This stuff actually works. I took it, I did all those other handy tricks (drank tons of water, ate oatmeal, pumped more often), and in about a week I had increased from about 9-10 ounces per workday to 13-14 ounces per workday. Who knows? It’s only been a week… maybe I will increase even more. This stuff definitely does its job.

Why I bothered writing this review: After taking my dose this morning I finally figured out how to describe the taste…. Do you remember The Matrix? Do you remember the way people looked when they were mid-morph, when the agents were possessing them and their face was melting off in a kind horrified scream, features twisting in agony?

Yup. It tastes just like that. It’s such a great flavor.

I made The Bean taste a tiny drop once. He brushed his teeth for twenty minutes.

You know what? I’m feeling kind of mean right now. The Bean is lying comfortably on our sofa, curled up with a cat.

It’s time for my noon dosage of the face-melting, highly-effective Motherlove More Milk Plus.

I’m going to go take my medicine.

And then I’m going to save just a teensy bit of it between my lips… and go kiss The Bean.

Stay tuned. I’ll let you know what his reaction is.

*****

Update: His face lit up as I went down to give him a loving kiss….. and then once he tasted it he buried his face in the couch pillow and moaned. “You’re sick… SICK. Why would you do that? Nasty! You’re SICK!”

And then as I stood in front of him, cackling:

“Move. I can’t see the tv.”

I think he’ll survive.

I think the title of this blog says it all. Like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert, I’ve been known to crush, and crush hard.

Fortunately for my pride (as well as The Bean), I tend to crush on horses and books.

I stumbled across a new book during my internet forays this weekend, and now I can’t think of anything else. I MUST OWN THIS BOOK:

It’s a spoof on romance novels and the Twilight series. Need I say more?

Here is an excerpt:

“I wouldn’t drink that poison if I were you.”

He spoke with a slight accent, reminding Smella of a lonely soul from another place, another time. Or maybe just a British guy trying to sound like he was from nineteenth century Boston.

Smella’s eyes widened. Her gaze shot to the beer, then back to the stranger. “What poison?”

“You can’t pin anything on me!” The bartender hollered while stumbling backward, before falling against a shelf of beer mugs.

Locked in the stranger’s dark gaze, Smella ignored the sound of crashing glass. She was more interested in his perfectly kissable blood red lips and the cold, impenetrable aura that radiated off his stony features.

“Alcohol destroys your kidneys.” The stranger flashed a subdued smile, revealing pearly white, jagged teeth.

“You’re right.” Turning down her lips in disgust, Smella pushed away the offending glass. “Thank you for berating my choice of beverage. Throughout this novel, you may occasionally behave like a total control freak, but I know you are only concerned for my well-being, and because I am a woman, obviously I’m too stupid to act in my own best interest.”

Somewhere in the darkest recesses of her mind, she thought she heard the obese bartender scream, “Help me! I’m bleeding everywhere!” But she refused to let him ruin the romantic tension that she was trying to build with the tall pasty stranger. Leaning toward him, she playfully batted long lashes while twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

But the stranger didn’t respond to her flirtation. He was too busy pinching his nose and making a gagging sound.

She scooted back. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” He spoke through a wheeze. “I have to go.”

In a flash, he was gone.

Smella was confused, bewildered, frightened, rejected, vulnerable, hurt, self-conscious and irritated.

But never mind her PMS.

She was more concerned about her awkward encounter with the kind stranger.

It’s not the cleanest writing ever… but who cares? I think I may even want it just for the cover. I mean, kilts are sexy, right?

I went grocery shopping at the Asian grocery store with my Thai stepmom the other day.

The store was really cool, and filled with some really strange items. I did my best to take photos, but I felt kind of weird walking around the store taking picture of the food instead of buying it. I tried to make it look like I was taking pictures of the DragonMonkey, but I’m sure I wasn’t nearly as covert as I hoped to be. Besides, at at 5’9″ I was by FAR the biggest person in the store, so it was a little hard to hide.

Anyways, without further ado, I give you:

Look! Yoshi food!

We have more soy sauce than you do. I know this because Tyler knows this.

You silly little westerners with your Chicken Noodle soup. Pah. Live a little.

“Honey? What’s for dinner?”

I have no idea what this is, but I’m pretty sure it’s about to eat the Squidgelet.

Lotus Root. Hah. And you thought those tiny little cars were engineered.

I couldn’t seem to take a decent photo of the Jack Fruit. This was the world’s ugliest fruit. It’s the size of a watermelon and covered completely in angry little nodules.

For when your regular-colored Daikon simply won’t do:

Ummmmmm:

Yeah, nevermind. I don’t want to know. At least it’s on sale.

Dear Google:

I appreciate that I haven’t been in the very best of moods lately and that some of my recent emails might have reflected my grumpiness.

I understand that the majority of my internet searches, emails, thoughts, and other free time center around horses. What can I say? With only a month left of pregnancy I’m jonesing pretty bad to get back in the saddle again.

I also appreciate that your ads are designed around my email/search content, and not the product of an marketing effort.

Nevertheless…

NO.

NO, I DO NOT NEED A HORSE INCINERATOR.

PLEASE STOP SUGGESTING THAT I GO BUY ONE. IT’S COMPLETELY DISTURBING.

I don’t care if it’s a “high-quality unit”.

I don’t care that you’re offering it at discount prices.

Why would you even think I NEED a machine that incinerates animals, much less a “USED” one?

That’s really, really, really gross.

Sincerely,

Becky, the non-horse-burning Gmail user