The Return of Swamp Thing! (but at least she didn't return to ME this time)

I occasionally screen my calls. I admit it. Don't take it personally (I would never not talk to anyone who reads this blog), but sometimes I just don't feel like talking to certain people so I don't answer my phone. Is it the law that I have to pick it up just because it rings?

I am, however, always thrilled to hear the ringtone that belongs to Anti-Stella. BRICK HOUSE. I put a great deal of thought into the ringtones I choose for my friends, and Brick House totally suits her. The woman is Might-ay Might-ay.

Two words, kids - Natural Childbirth. She is my hero. She is Woman; Hear Her Roar. And now, with four children ages 6 and under, In Numbers Too Big To Ignore.

I hadn't talked to her since the blessed arrival of the lovely Miss Olivia, so I was particularly tickled to hear from her. Here is a paraphrased transcript of the conversation:

ME: Oh my God! Hey, you! How are you??

A-S: (in an uncharacteristically stern yet hushed voice)
SHE FOUND ME.

ME: What?? Olivia found you? Are you hiding from your baby already?? Jeeezus, Sheri, what kind of parent...

A-S: No, no. SHE. FOUND. ME.

ME: (knowing she's way too nice a person to say a word like this, I said it for her, cuz I'm a true friend) Oh, SHIT, dude.

Apparently, Anti-Stella's Swamp-Free lucky streak has run out and The Thing has found someone other than me to annoy. I've managed to avoid seeing her at school functions, somehow, but Swamp Thing's twin sons, Walker and Texas Ranger, now go to Mom's Day Out with Anti-Stella's penultimate child, Maddox.

If I'm remembering the story right - and Anti-Stella, please correct me if I'm not - Swamp Thing opened with a remark about Anti-Stella's recent weight gain. Something to the effect of "Wow, haven't seen you in a year! My, you've gotten biiiig!" The exact verbage on this was interesting, but I can't remember what it was verbatim.

Anti-Stella quite appropriately pointed out the fact that she'd had a baby a not even a month ago. (Cut 'er some fuckin slack!! She's still gorgeous!) And one can only assume that the aforementioned baby was somewhere in plain view when Swamp Thing made her bitchy weight comment. Dumbass.

So then she sees Baby Girl and asks Anti-Stella her name. Olivia. Olivia is her name.

Swamp Thing says she doesn't like it.

Not only is the woman a Dumbass, she's a fucking RUDE Dumbass.

Who tells someone they don't like their baby's name? Her point was that it didn't go with Anti-Stella's boys' names, which sound a bit like the Jolie-Pitt boys' names (not a criticism, they're uncommon and cool), and Olivia was just too plain.

Anti-Stella could easily have made the comment that she didn't like Swamp Thing's new and unflattering overtly butch haircut, but again, Anti-Stella's a nice, turn-the-other-cheek sort of person. The fact that I'm not snickering to myself right now and thinking "better you than me, love" should be evidence that I'm not a heartless twat, right? Nah, I'm just way too afraid of tempting fate.

Case in point...

Care to guess why I was screening my calls yesterday? Buffy. Last night was Michelle Obama night and because I purposely hadn't committed myself one way or the other (because I didn't want her to think I was a dork for not really wanting to go and I obviously didn't want to out myself as the idiot that I am if I did go), I very immaturely decided to avoid that confrontation completely by just ignoring Buffy. I'm a total pussy, I know.

Trust me, you don't want me on the OBAndwagon. I'm a total moron, I'll do more harm than good because I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about and I don't want anyone to call me out, so I'll just sit in the back with my beverage nodding and smiling, thankyouverymuch.

Shit, get this - seconds ago, AS I WAS TYPING, my phone rang - Buffy - and I had to answer it because I agreed to watch her baby tomorrow and I needed to find out what time I had to be ready. You'll be proud of me for declining on the Ongoing Childcare Invitation, but only because she asked me directly. Thank God I got out of that. She did offer to pay me, but still... it would cut into my blogging time, and I'm not about to do that to you, my darlings.

So it appears I'm watching Princeton's baby sister for a few hours tomorrow morning.

Potential Blogfodder Factor (hereafter known as PBF):
A muthahfuggin ELEVEN.