Off to the doc.

So I've returned and all is well, aside from the fact that I've pinched the femoral nerve in my lower back. Big pain. BIG. I've been living on Tylenol and prayer for the past two weeks but the mind-blowing discomfort seems content to stick around. I was hoping I could get insurance to pay for prenatal massage but it's a no-go. They'll pay for a baby nurse if I elect to leave the hospital early but severe back pain? Suck it up, chick.

My trip to St. Louis was lovely. Well, seeing the family was lovely, as was eating my weight in frozen custard. The city itself... Sure I'm a certified, citified snob (organic food! Parabens! SUVs!) but I'm a Midwesterner at heart - which makes the fact that you couldn't pay me to move back to Missouri even sadder. There is much gnashing of teeth over our choice to stay in NYC and I totally understand why, but I can't shake the fact that St. Louis is now the murder capital of the United States. Nobody believes me when I say we feel safer walking around the streets of NYC than I do in Topeka or St. Louis but it's really true. At least here there's always someone around. That someone might be peeing on the street but at least they're there. Granted, there's the nagging threat of getting blowed up, but at least I won't get carjacked. Or shot. Or forced to eat at White Castle.

Anybody know any interesting, affordable college towns?

I'm heading to St. Louis this weekend for some quality time with the fam. This is the last week I'm allowed to travel (third trimester, here I come) so I figured now was as good a time as any to see my peeps. I plan on eating my way through the city, followed by some eating.

Because the well has run dry

I'm totally stealing this quiz from the Buffinator.

Four Jobs I Have Had in My Life

1. Trend forecaster
2. Product launcher (or whatever you call someone who stands on the street and hands out water)
3. Reluctant waiter
4. Dressing room guard (apparently the good folks at Banana Republic didn't trust me around a register)

Four Places I Have Lived:

1. Topeka, KS
2. NYC
3. Chicago, IL
4. LA

Four of My Favorite Foods:

1. Ted Drewe's frozen custard
   
2. Mashed potatoes (I'll go on record that KFC's kicks ass)
   
3. Warm croissants (or any bread product for that matter). Don't forget the butter and homemade jam
4. Cinnamon rolls with ridiculous amounts of icing and brown sugar
   

Four Places I'd Rather be Right Now:

1. In the middle of a lavender field
   
2. Depositing residual checks
   
3. Playing with a basket of kittens
   
4. On the porch at my summer home. In France.
   

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over:

1. Shaun of the Dead
   
2. Anchorman
   
3. Pretty In Pink. But only the parts with Duckie and Annie Potts. (And to think I once thought Andrew McCarthy was cool...)
4. A Christmas Story
   

Four TV Shows I Like to Watch:

1. So You Think You Can Dance/Top Chef/America's Next Top Model... (the list goes on)
   
2. Battlestar Galactica
   
3. Deadwood (compliments of Netflix)
   
4. 30 Rock
   

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. Blogs
2. I Don't Like You In That Way
   
3. Gawker
   
4. Television Without Pity
   

Four Early Musical Influences:

1. Classical ballet scores
   
2. Mom's Heart and Rickie Lee Jones albums
   
3. Free To Be You And Me
   
4. Julian Lennon (Oh. God.)
   

Four places I've been on vacation:

1. Scotland
   
2. Ireland
   
3. Florida
   
4. Wyoming
   

Four albums I can't live without:
*After much consideration, there are no albums I can't live without. Let's talk podcasts, shall we?

1. This American Life
   
2. NPR's Good Food
   
3. Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me
   
4. NPR's Pop Culture
   

Four magazines I read:

1. Bust
   
2. New York Magazine
   
3. Time Out New York
   
4. US Weekly (when I can scrounge one up at the gym)
   

Four colors I like:

1. Chocolate brown
   
2. Orange (any version other than neon)
   
3. Tiffany blue
   
4. Cherry red
   

Four Hollywood stars I want to have a drink with:

1. Will Ferrell
   
2. Tina Fey
   
3. Katie Holmes (but only if she's rip-snorting drunk so I can get her to squeal about life with Cruise-azy)
   
4. Daniel Craig (but only in an imaginary world where I'm single, un-pregnant, and look like Juliette Binoche)
   

File under WHAT THE FUCK?!

So I took a little 3-year-old friend of mine to the playground today. It was gray and rainy and he was headed straight to Squirrelsville after being cooped up in the apartment all morning; in other words, it seemed like the perfect day to get absolutely soaking wet. So out we went. It wasn't raining hard, mostly just drizzle, but I'd gone ahead and dressed him for the elements: sweatshirt, rainslicker, rain boots, and an umbrella. He stomped in puddles and ran around in circles and generally had a grand old time being a little kid.

Which is when a worker from the Parks department marched up and threatened to call Child Protective Services on my ass.

I'm going to keep this brief so my blood pressure stays at a reasonable level: Out of the blue this woman stormed up and demanded to know why the kid was out in the rain. "Look at that child! He is SOAKING WET! I can't BELIEVE you are letting a child out in this weather! I could call Child Protective Services on you!"

It went on like that for awhile - her berating me for letting the kid out in the rain, me looking around, wondering who let this crazy woman in - but after her third threat to call CPS, I'd had enough. I would love to say that I took a deep breath, thanked her for her concern, and calmly stated my case. Instead I did what any slightly startled, thoroughly insulted caretaker would do.

I went full throttle bitch on the woman.

To make a loud (but un-profanity strewn! 3-year-old ears present!) story short, I made it quite clear what she could do with her concern. I then told, nay begged, her to place the call to CPS so I could have the satisfaction of listening to them laugh in her face over her claims of abuse. "Some crazy woman is letting a child play in the rain! IN THE SUMMER!"

I'm not going to lie, I've had roughly seven different arguments in my head with this woman. And in each one, she's just about as insane as she was in real life.

Please tell me it's white mink...

I've had this going through my head for approximately eighty-two hours now:

"Eeeeev-ry ROSE has it's thohn,

Jus' like eeeeev-ry night has it's dohn,

Just' like eeeeev-ry cowboy sings a sad, sa-ahd song,

Eeeev-ry ROSE has it's thohn"

Seriously, it won't leave my brain. 3:30 am, getting up to pee ("Eeeeev-ry ROSE has it's thohn..."), sitting in the park, surrounded by screaming children ("Jus' like eeeev-ry night has it's dohn..."). I blame myself. No one's forcing me to watch Rock of Love with Bret Michaels on VH-1 where this particular ditty is looped non-stop in an attempt to remind viewers that Bret Michaels was once famous, but that doesn't make it any easier to take. (The not-good singing! The unnatural rhyme scheme! The man's obsession with bandanas!) I was walking around the house humming it and torturing the cats (whenever I sing, Val puts her ears flat against her head and gets a look on her face like, "What is that HORRIBLE SOUND?!") which led to a rousing debate between Matt and I over the title for Worst Song Ever Written. While "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" has its problems, Matt pointed out that it's no match for "Unskinny Bop". I hold firm that the WSER, hands down, is George Harrison's "I've Got My Mind Set On You". Get that fucker in your head and it's there for months.

Anyway, WSER. Thoughts?

(X, did you check out the leopard duster on last week's episode? Genius...)

Read me.

As I mentioned on the sister site, yesterday was a flat mess here in NYC. There was a storm - some rain, a little lightening - and what happened? The entire city shut down. Every single subway line flooded. The busses had lines around the block. Literally. (Taxis? PLEASE.) While I realize our subway system is 75 years old and that I should cut the MTA some slack, I can't help feeling a touch anxious. If we can't handle rain, we sure's as hell can't handle them pesky terrorists.

Which leads me to my latest Thing Alisha Loves:

The Men Who Stare At Goats by John Ronson

"In 1979 a secret unit was established by the most gifted minds within the U.S. Army. Defying all known accepted military practice — and indeed, the laws of physics — they believed that a soldier could adopt a cloak of invisibility, pass cleanly through walls, and, perhaps most chillingly, kill goats just by staring at them. Entrusted with defending America from all known adversaries, they were the First Earth Battalion. And they really weren't joking. What's more, they're back and fighting the War on Terror."

This book is absurd, frightening - and one of the funniest things I've read in my life. It reads quick and extremely witty (the tone is very David Sedaris, which makes the fact that it's non-fiction seem doubly shocking) and I couldn't put it down. A perfect subway read. (Assuming it's, you know, running.)

Things Alisha loves, quickfire edition

Oh the fun I could have with this, Precious...

Don't get me started...

My agent called me in to re-sign which was lovely and unexpected, seeing as how I haven't booked anything except a bottom-barrel voiceover in almost a year (and now that I look like I've swallowed a basketball, that doesn't seem liable to change any time soon). I got even more excited when my agent started piling on the sweet talk, whispering how he was "dying to see the bump" and "couldn't wait to see me". Since it's a well-established rule that, aside from bookings, my agents are never excited to see me, I was pretty psyched. I figured maybe this time we'd actually converse, unlike our normal routine. (I wander by his office, he's busy on the phone, I wave sheepishly, he holds up his finger in the universally accepted "Hold on a sec" position, I hover in the doorway, he continues taking calls, I shift uncomfortably, he continues taking calls, I feign interest in the paint job, he continues taking calls... Lather, rinse, repeat. Good times.) I grab a seat and smile at this week's assistants (they rotate them out so fast, I no longer bother learning names) and wait to be called.

I wait.

And wait.

Finally Assistant #1 turns and thrusts a stack of forms towards me. "SIGN, DON'T DATE," she says before returning to the phones.

Erm, okay.

I sign (DON'T DATE!), keeping one eye one the hallway. Surely my agent will be back by the time I'm finished signing my life away.

I finish signing my life away. The office is still empty.

"So will Michael be back any time soon?," I say, feigning casualness. "He said he wanted to meet with me."

"Nah, probably not," Assistant #2 says, shoving a hunk of crumb cake into his mouth, his eyes never leaving the screen. "He's in a really big meeting. Everyone in the agency is there. Miss USA wants to sign."

Oh.

"Yeah, he'll probably be in there awhile," he continues, brushing powdered sugar off his power tie. "I hear she's a really important Miss USA."

Oh.

I mean I get it. I may be great but I am no Miss USA. And I'm certainly not a "really important" Miss USA. Which begs the question, Has there ever been a really important Miss USA?

*Psst - ever wonder what assistants discuss when you're not around? Or in my case, when you are around but not important enough to try and impress? A sample:

"What's the difference between crumb cake and a muffin anyway?"

"I think crumb cake has the crumb topping and a muffin doesn't."

"But some muffins have toppings. Does that make them cake?"

"Um, unless it says it's low-fat, then... yes."

Good times.