Ali in Real Life ... play along with me.

*** Note to reader: I don't want to overshadow Henry's photos by posting another blog to quickly, so be sure to take a looksie at yesterday's post if you haven't already. He's too cute to pass up.

It's a good thing my Dad continually forgets to check my blog because today's post mentions the phrase, "electric breast pump" - yikes.

My frequent and unpredictable nursing sessions with Sir Henry, combined with an intense loathing for my breast pump machine, has caused a strain on my relationship with our local movie theater.

Following Eliza's arrival, the breast pump and I had an unnatural bond that was built on anxiety, necessity and pain. I turned it on once after Henry was born and approximately 3 seconds of listening to that heinous noise, those feelings quickly resurfaced. I vowed right then and there that I will not be using that machine again. Ever.

What does an electric breast pump sound like? A donkey; a sick donkey "hee-hawing" in pain. Because it's in labor.I'm not opposed to formula, but being without a dishwasher has made me slightly anti-bottle. Not to mention, formula is expensiv-o. And so, dear reader, until my desire to see a flick supersedes my laziness and detestation for my breast pump, all movie viewing needs will be met by red box.

We scored with our latest red box rental Dan in Real Life

I really liked it. However, I did detect a large dose of Michael Scottness during a scene where he tells the cop to put his second speeding ticket on his "tab" which was then followed by a classic, "Michael Scott" grin. But since the Office has returned, I was okay with the reminder.

I've found myself thinking what a great job his character Dan has. He writes for a living. And gets paid for it! He shares his opinion, offers advice - And Gets Paid For It - all the while, he has the freedom of doing this in his pajamas.

SIGN ME UP.

Here I sit with my disheveled hair piled on the top of my head in a granny bun... a hair style that makes my husband's toes curl. I am wearing a fire engine red XXL Teraflex t-shirt with sleeves that nearly reach my elbows. My pants definitely have an elastic waist. They're black, covered in spit up and expose my calves that haven't been shaved since who know when.

I'm the living definition of a woman who has momentarily let herself go. On the days where I do make my appearance a priority, my husband quickly comments on how "fresh" I look. He then begins to compare me to a fresh piece of fruit that he'd be attracted to buy at the grocery store. It's okay, I'm still trying to figure that one out too.

So back to my desire to be Dan in Real Life... I have a request. Will someone leave me a comment (it surely can be anonymous) detailing a personal crisis or problem that you want me to solve? I'll then dedicate a future post to doing so. I'm totally uneducated and am a non-professional, but humor me. This could be funny, or not, but that's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm all about self humiliation. Make up the problem if you want, just keep it rated PG.

Gee thanks, this could be fun - if someone chooses to participate. By all means, don't make me post anonymously on my own blog. That would just be tacky.