an example

Here’s an example of the whickity-whacketiness of hormones during pregnancy: a week or so ago when I read this notice on the dairy shelf of the grocery store, I got all teary-eyed and had to go into the detergents aisle to get a grip.


Thankfully, I have otherwise been pretty even-tempered. I really don’t like crying; I find it embarrassing. I am not a pretty crier, I get bright red and hot and get a headache, blech. But in this case, I thought it was funny: to cry over such a thing as a notice on a dairy case.

I was reminded of this because last night I cried while watching the end of Warehouse 13. If ever there was a show not living up to its promise of a premise, this is one. The only character that isn’t irritating is Pete but the whole thing is badly written and poorly executed. Yet like Greg the Bunny we keep watching just in case it does step up to the plate and deliver a hit and so far it’s been just enough entertainment to stay on the DVR list.

So, it was stupid, mawkishly maudlin, predictable schlock and I cried and HB caught me at it and laughed his ass off at me (with me, I guess, as I laughed while crying at the absurdity of it). He apologized, probably in case the switch flipped over from “tears” to “rage” but thankfully that didn’t happen and hasn’t so far (touch wood, heheh).


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