A Command Performance

Devoted reader(s), I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Please, sit down and enjoy the following rant.

Mr. Pamphlet and I are currently trying to have another little pamphlet. A leaflet, shall we say. Trying to have a leaflet is, for a woman, an all-consuming activity that takes over the brain and limits all other functions in order to divert maximum thought power to the obsession of fertility and it's intricacies. I can literally think of nothing else, all day long. I go to work, and do my job, but some uncounted number of minutes out of every hour is spent staring out the window of my office contemplating my coworker's unexpected pregnancy and my lack thereof. Now our dear friends of Sci-Fi Friday nights are pregnant too, and wouldn't it just be too cute if all three of us could be pregnant at once? Yes, it WOULD be just too goddamn cute. If I could only get pregnant.

For those of you curious about the Blue Pamphlet perspective on this situation, it runs simply along these three primary thoughts:
1. My wife wants to watch porn and DO IT every other night. SWEET!
2. I haven't DONE IT this much since before we got married. Goddamn I'm tired!
3. I hope we get pregnant soon so my wife won't be so moody and mopey....wait... that IS what it's like when she's pregnant....oh well. Let's DO IT!

So, that's life for the Pink lately. I am at once optimistically cheerful and hormonally irritable. Mike Thompson, Katie Horner, and Gary Lezak couldn't predict my mood weather if they all three stayed up all night and interrupted regular programming every five minutes with updates. Pity Blue, folks, pity him and give him cookies. He's so cute when he's cookiehappy.