Kicking, or maybe gas

30 Aug

A couple nights ago I felt the first bit of movement against my partner’s belly. We’re assuming it was the baby, but I think it was entirely possible that we were feeling just a muscle spasm or something. Then I fell asleep. At least at this point, wife is not really feeling one with Gaia or any deep spiritual connection with her baby. And I am not either. So obviously this makes us shitty parents. I’m probably a little worse, since I’ve taken to pretending to use wife’s belly as a boxing ‘heavy bag’ (body blow! body blow!).

We did end up seeing Eat Pray Love this past weekend, which I found oh, a little self-indulgent. The food in Italy looked good. Wife thinks Fiji looks nice. Nice to have a book deal. It wasn’t really understandable why the two women spent time squeezing into too-small jeans after ‘accepting’ that they would eat and not feel bad about gaining weight. And there was nothing about the Liz character that seemed any more self-directed at the end than at the beginning. But whatevs. The food looked good. Fiji looks nice. A big fat book deal certainly seems great. Live life like you’re Gwenyth Paltrow!

Reminded me a bit of the (terrible) Russell Crowe movie, A Good Year. The secret to life is to take the shitload of money you’ve made as a heartless financial trader, cash in on a big fat severance payment, inherit a French vineyard/estate from your wealthy uncle, and have sex with the hot French woman. I mean, what the hell are the rest of you even doing?

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