Officially an iPad owner

It was bound to happen. Technology finally caught up to me, the last female Luddite.

Actually, I have the most amazing and thoughtful spouse. After seeing me struggle and cuss out my six year old MacBook, J secretly ordered me the iPad 2. It arrived today and he took great delight in my shock and awe response. Although truth be known, I was a bit intimidated at having to learn a whole new system. J is über patient and sat through my questions (some of them repeated several times) without batting an eye.

And here I am now, posting for you beautiful people! Think of how much more productive I will be! (ALthough I can stream movies via Netflix on this sucker, so maybe not so productive in the beginning...)

thanks for nothing

Friday was my last day in the office before commencing maternity leave. I'd been working from home the last two months, but by no means had I vanished from office life. I still dialed into conference calls, edited documents, chaired meetings and gossiped.

So I was rather perplexed when, at 4 p.m., I realized I hadn't received any kind of parting sentiments from my boss or my staff. My boss is not the most emotional or thoughtful person. I accept this. However, we have worked together for 10 years and I was about to leave for six months to give birth to twins. Couldn't he call to say, I dunno, good luck with that?

And my team couldn't buy a little card from the company gift shop and sign it?

I thought about this as I rode down the elevator. Admittedly, I am not social butterfly, but I show up when duty calls. I buy cards for staff milestones, attend lame office parties for their birthdays, give regularly to the X-mas fund for needy families. Am I actually the department pariah and just never knew it?

That night I received an email from my boss (in response to an email I sent to the department saying thanks and catch you later). It read: "Good luck and please keep us posted."

He responded to an email I sent, he didn't even send his own message! I was floored. J thinks I shouldn't bother telling anyone at work when the babies are born. I have mixed feelings - there are some people I would definitely want to share our good news with - but the level of indifference from my supervisor and my staff has given me pause.

Faithful readers, please sound off. (And you can mail me a congratulations card, if you really want).

and now, a few words about my ass

So the thing is, I have hemorrhoids.

Shhhhh. Stop laughing. You've probably had them at one time in your life.

The issue is, I cannot go to the pharmacy and purchase medication to treat said hemorrhoids. It's a pride kind of thing. You see, a few years ago, while pregnant with Bubba, I developed the same condition. I realized pretty quickly I needed some kind of treatment vs hoping everything would just vanish. So I drove, fearless, to the local CVS and picked out an extra large box of Prep H, ready to do butt battle. Stood in line with my head held high, not worried what anyone thought.

Except, right before it was my turn to have my items scanned, there was a shift change.

The overweight Latina cashier, who I figured would be sensitive to my plight, was replaced by a young, extremely good looking guy. Toned, too. I looked around, starting to panic, but no other lines were open.

Shit!!! It was now my turn to pay. "How are you?" the stud asked brightly. "Okay. Good," I said, my eyes focused on my feet as I placed the box of Preparation H and some chewing gum on the counter. He seemed to pause for a second - maybe to hold the box up so the rest of the shoppers could see it? - and finally rang it up. "You have a nice day," he instructed.

I ducked out of there as beads of sweat were starting to form on my upper lip. Just my effing luck. Admitting to a hot guy that my ass has issues.

So now, I cannot risk the chance of the same situation and humiliation occuring again. I called my mom this week and asked her to bring a box of Prep H to my house, covered in a brown bag. "What the hell is wrong with you that you can't go to the store?" she demanded. Followed by, "You know, if you don't get them under control, they will grow and explode. Then you will have REAL problems."

Occasionally I see photos in magazines of pregnant celebrities, and am forced tothink about their ass. They are probably suffering from the same ailment that I have. Who buys their stuff for them? I can't see Natalie Portman or Jessica Alba standing in line at Walgreens with a tube of rectal cream in their hand.

So we will commence treatment tonight and hopefully this will all pass, as they say.

Or my mother will have a lot of 'splaining to do about her repeated trips to the pharmacy.