First and foremost, I give you cats what you want and what my site is becoming known for: a picture of a baby corgi.

This pic was linked to me by Amy T

This was from the header of a funny story about Rick Santorum.

My friends link me things with corgis and about The Hunger Games, because they know these things make me happy and my friends are awesome. Except for Chantz, who linked me an angry reviewer screaming a review about how bad The Hunger Games movie is. Chantz is an asshole. I don’t care how bad it is. I’m going to see it tomorrow DAMNIT.  Angry reviewer man is not the boss of me.

So, this morning my friend Cynthia linked me this:

Apparently, no one is the boss of Kristen Bell AND she loves The Hunger Games.

I think there are worse things to be known than corgis and The Hunger Games.

So, I have a baby shower next Saturday, and I am excited to go, but, as we all know,I have the whole social anxiety thing. I’ve been thinking it over in my head a lot so I can prepare it for myself. I realized I have a pretty awesome anxiety.

We all know I am not very good at being a real woman. I love kids, and I find cute baby stuff awesome, but I am completely clueless. Not only am I completely clueless, but I am also VERY adept at saying the wrong thing at exactly the right time.

I think terrible things like hooking up both boobs to a breast pump at the same time and seeing which one wins a race to pump the most the fastest. I even imagine an announcer calling it like a horse race. “Left breast is in the lead by a few milliliters, can right breast catch up in time?”

No woman in her right mind would find that funny or appropriate, so I know not to say those things. Well, my brain is very busy filtering things like that, I know some other, less obvious shit, will break through. I also know I develop Tourette’s syndrome the second I get into a situation that makes me uncomfortable. The more nervous I am, the more f-bombs I drop.

In my mind, I am going to walk into Angela’s baby shower and within ten minutes swear up a blue streak and make at least five uncouth comments about tits and vaginas. THIS IS WHY MY FRIENDS CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.

I am going to work on convincing myself that they knew it was a very real possibility when they invited me. Really, it is their fault that I will probably involuntarily offend everyone in the lovely, lady-like shower before the afternoon is over. They invited me. Never invite me to things unless you are willing to accept the consequences.  The bonus is that everyone will be knocked up, so there won’t be booze and the potential disaster that booze always brings.

Yep, I can handle being known for corgis and The Hunger Games