Did you watch?
Did you root?
Did you boo?
Did you hiss?

We flipped back and forth, fast enough at times that it seemed like Seacrest was calling the game, Stephanopoulos was questioning song choices and the YES commentators were grilling Obama.

A brief driveway chat with a neighbor revealed that I have a “decent beer gut,” on me that’s “big enough for twins,” if you ask his daughter. Other neighbors were quick to say some of the things I bitched about yesterday, but they also said quickly, “Is that awful? Should we not say that?” All in all, it was kind of nice to know they cared, even if my first impulse was to kick them in the teeth with my swollen feet.

I kid.

My feet aren’t swollen.


Self-censoring goes out the window along with heels and nylons at the end of my pregnancies…

I don’t like David Archuletta.
Jason Castro is kind of boring to me.
My sox are red.
And, another thing, this mama just can’t quite trust Obama.

And with that riveting post, I am off to bed. No contractions.