17 weeks, and "I won't miss that asshole"

This is what 17 weeks looks like. Not too dramatically different from 16 weeks.

The other night we had dinner with our friends Esther and Paul, who have a 2-month-old. Paul was talking about changing Luke's diapers, and Paul said, "I'm not sure if we are going to have more kids or not, but if we don't, believe me, I won't miss seeing that asshole every two hours."

Esther had a childbirth at St. Vincent's, with a doula and NO PAIN MEDICATION. I was bowing down to her. She said it's rough, really rough. She said having the doula was absolutely necessary for her--not just a luxury, and she really recommended we hire one. I've been resisting the doula concept because of the "doula mafia," a concept a friend of mine came up with, wherein the doulas pressure you not to use an epidural, to do the childbirth as naturally as possible, etc. Who wants additional pressure when you're already pressured as a pre-parent?

Ingrid says I'd better start writing more about celebrities, that the blog is losing focus. I said, "It has been the holidays and Britney's been keeping quiet!" But, over New Year's Eve, she passed out after reportedly too many champagne cocktails. Then, the Post published this picture saying she looks bloated, haggard and old. I can identify. But Britney's checked into a "spa" in Arizona, and has vowed to get her shit together, for her own sake, her kids' and her fans'. She's had her bender moment, now baby's gonna get back.