Will I ever wear a button down shirt again?
Have mercy, my jugs are huge.
They are, by far, the biggest they have ever been in my life, and they continue to grow at an astonishing rate. In three weeks, I have jumped an entire cup size, and still continue to grow. At the end of my pregnancy I am going to look like friggin' Anna Nicole Smith (if she was mousy and brunette) (and alive).
At night when I sleep, I want to bind them to my body with an ace bandage because they just flop all over the place. They jump out of my tank tops, I occasionally end up laying on one of them... it has been ugly. I have resorted to wearing 2 sportsbras while I sleep just to keep these gals contained.
Man, if BJ Something-or-other could see me now! BJ was this douchebag kid (hello, his name was BJ, that should have been my first clue) who made fun of me in 7th grade because I was flat chested. By flat chested I don't mean that I had very small boobs, I mean I looked like a dude. BJ terrorized me and got a bunch of his other douchebag pals to make fun of me every day when I was walking to class. They called me pancake. Fuckers.
I didn't start growing boobs until the summer after my 9th grade year. I seriously didn't even wear a bra until then... what's the point? The boobs really blossomed the summer before I left for college, as I have a picture of my friends and I flashing a camera and my tits are round, perky, firm and beautiful (large B Cup). I think I had a good 6 months with those before I went to college and started gaining my freshman weight and they started to grow and sag a little. By my senior year in college, I had lost the freshman weight but I was a hippie-type who was so over bras. This didn't help the sag factor, but regardless, I maintained a pretty rockin' rack (small C cup).
Fast forward 6 years (wow! 6 years...) and here I am busting out of a D cup with the firmest, best looking boobs God could make. Too bad my husband is an ass man.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Gender Heresy
Monday, we had our 20 week 3D ultrasound; this is the one where the Doctor can usually tell you if you are having a girl or a boy.
We had decided from the beginning (or so I thought) that we weren't going to find out the baby's sex, rather we would wait until the baby is born. There aren't too many big surprises left in life, and we thought this would make for oodles of excitement come baby bearing time. My mom did it both ways and told me there was nothing quite as exciting in her life as when I popped out and they exclaimed "it's a girl!" I want that!
Plus, I figure if I don't know what I am having, noone can buy me any crap. I am extremely particular about what I want my child in, from the furniture to clothes to the stroller. I want classic, sporty, gender neutral stuff. I hate when someone finds out they are having a boy and people start loading them up with blue plaid everything, clothes with numbers on them (like the kid pops out and needs a mickey mouse rugby shirt), onesies with baseballs, basketballs, footballs, etc. Or if they find out it is a girl, it's all pink and girly crap. I HATE pink. a friend recently had a girl and got several porcelain dolls (pink); those things are creepy. But I digress.
So we had decided that we didn't want to know. We go in for the appointment and the nurse takes my weight (up 6 lbs!) and blood pressure. She then reminded us that we could find out the sex today during the ultrasound and aren't we excited! So hubs is all "let's just find out!"
What?
"You have had 20 weeks to tell me that you wanted to find out, and you spring it on me right now! I don't want to find out, that's anti-climactic! I haven't even been geared up for this at all - no, we're not finding out."
This fight is happening in the room - right in front of the nurse who quickly jumps in and says that the doctor will write it down and put it in a sealed envelope for us. Hubs is all over this idea, but I am still hesitant. He says "you can just let me look at it." Yeah, right.
The nurse leaves and we continue bickering:
"Well I want to know!"
"Well, I don't, we have decided that we weren't going to find out-"
"No, you decided. This whole pregnancy is about you, what you want, how you want it. I want to know."
"No! You are pissing me off! We're not finding out-"
The doctor walks in.
We left with the sealed envelope. Dammit. I am weak.
But not so weak that I opened it.
Actually we gave it to my mom to hold (because she was such a big fan of us not knowing and we felt we could trust her), and now she is trying to talk me into opening it. The whole world is against me on this one, but I am sticking to my guns... jerks.
We had decided from the beginning (or so I thought) that we weren't going to find out the baby's sex, rather we would wait until the baby is born. There aren't too many big surprises left in life, and we thought this would make for oodles of excitement come baby bearing time. My mom did it both ways and told me there was nothing quite as exciting in her life as when I popped out and they exclaimed "it's a girl!" I want that!
Plus, I figure if I don't know what I am having, noone can buy me any crap. I am extremely particular about what I want my child in, from the furniture to clothes to the stroller. I want classic, sporty, gender neutral stuff. I hate when someone finds out they are having a boy and people start loading them up with blue plaid everything, clothes with numbers on them (like the kid pops out and needs a mickey mouse rugby shirt), onesies with baseballs, basketballs, footballs, etc. Or if they find out it is a girl, it's all pink and girly crap. I HATE pink. a friend recently had a girl and got several porcelain dolls (pink); those things are creepy. But I digress.
So we had decided that we didn't want to know. We go in for the appointment and the nurse takes my weight (up 6 lbs!) and blood pressure. She then reminded us that we could find out the sex today during the ultrasound and aren't we excited! So hubs is all "let's just find out!"
What?
"You have had 20 weeks to tell me that you wanted to find out, and you spring it on me right now! I don't want to find out, that's anti-climactic! I haven't even been geared up for this at all - no, we're not finding out."
This fight is happening in the room - right in front of the nurse who quickly jumps in and says that the doctor will write it down and put it in a sealed envelope for us. Hubs is all over this idea, but I am still hesitant. He says "you can just let me look at it." Yeah, right.
The nurse leaves and we continue bickering:
"Well I want to know!"
"Well, I don't, we have decided that we weren't going to find out-"
"No, you decided. This whole pregnancy is about you, what you want, how you want it. I want to know."
"No! You are pissing me off! We're not finding out-"
The doctor walks in.
We left with the sealed envelope. Dammit. I am weak.
But not so weak that I opened it.
Actually we gave it to my mom to hold (because she was such a big fan of us not knowing and we felt we could trust her), and now she is trying to talk me into opening it. The whole world is against me on this one, but I am sticking to my guns... jerks.
Perpetual Irritation
(originally published on 2/13/2007)
Perpetual Irritation
and my perpetual irritation continues:
we bought a new mattress. the mack daddy, pillow top, memory foam, etc, etc, etc. wer spent about $2,104,638 on it ("charge it!" is our newest favorite phrase), but the thing is damn good and i need good sleep. it was supposed to be delivered this morning - hooray, right? not so fast...
i stayed home all day (making stuff that I can tell you about tomorrow) (and working... lots of working) anticipating the arrival of the new mattress (which will be referred to as "the cloud" for the remainder of this blog). all day i was peeking out the windows, looking for the mattress (cloud) mobile. around 2:30 i said to myself "Self, we should call to see if the cloud (mattress) people are still coming."
Low and behold, they were not.
"we're going to have to resched-"
(Me) "um, no, you are coming today. that is unacceptable."
"well, we can be there at-"
"You need to be here between 5 and 5:30, I am going to the gym."
"the drivers get off at five"
"than you will pay them to stay late. i am pregnant, don't fecking feck with me!"
"yes ma'am, see you at 5."
It is currently 5:46 and they aren't here yet... we'll see.
Perpetual Irritation
and my perpetual irritation continues:
we bought a new mattress. the mack daddy, pillow top, memory foam, etc, etc, etc. wer spent about $2,104,638 on it ("charge it!" is our newest favorite phrase), but the thing is damn good and i need good sleep. it was supposed to be delivered this morning - hooray, right? not so fast...
i stayed home all day (making stuff that I can tell you about tomorrow) (and working... lots of working) anticipating the arrival of the new mattress (which will be referred to as "the cloud" for the remainder of this blog). all day i was peeking out the windows, looking for the mattress (cloud) mobile. around 2:30 i said to myself "Self, we should call to see if the cloud (mattress) people are still coming."
Low and behold, they were not.
"we're going to have to resched-"
(Me) "um, no, you are coming today. that is unacceptable."
"well, we can be there at-"
"You need to be here between 5 and 5:30, I am going to the gym."
"the drivers get off at five"
"than you will pay them to stay late. i am pregnant, don't fecking feck with me!"
"yes ma'am, see you at 5."
It is currently 5:46 and they aren't here yet... we'll see.
Still crazy
(originally published on 2/9/2007)
Still crazy, after aa-aalll these months!
Blog blog blog, blog for the public! Blog blog blog, blog.
Sorry, public, I haven't had too much to blog about this week.
"But surely something has pissed you off, Cayce?"
Yes, many things, but nothing singly worthy of 30 minutes of typing. You see, I have been busy buying designer maternity jeans on e-bay and researching travel systems and cribs. And working! I have actually worked a lot the past few weeks - feels good.
And no, I have not watched American Idol*. *Okay, I am lying. But just once and just for 15 minutes, and I punished myself by not sleeping all that night.
But here's a brief rundown of my crazed pregnant psyche's recent irritants:
Sweet Mother Of God: Must I miss every single light when I am running late? Every. Single. Light. 12 in a row. Feck me!
My husband walked down the stairs yesterday after I had just mopped them. Put his large footprints on each stair. My face got hot with rage, but I didn't yell. I did, however, launch the mop across the room, and lock myself in the office to pout.
No one wants to talk to me about anything other than my pregnancy. What will we talk about after I give birth? "How big was your placenta?" No. The baby, I guess. Is the rest of my life confined to discussions of my kid? I feel like my identity is my pregnancy and my baby, and no longer me. That sucks eggs; I am cool, too.
Who charges $30 for shipping on a pair of jeans (eBay)? Ab-feckin'-surd.
A child molester just moved in across the street and down 3 houses. I told Ashton never to talk to the neighbors that live at "that" house to which he replied "That's not nice, we should be their friends and ask them to go to the park with us." Uh, no. And have you ever seen the pictures on those child molester printouts? It appears the cops showed up during the actual act and took their mug. They all look greasy, skanky, and guilty. Eww. Look at mine :http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g163/caycecollins/ours.jpg
And then there's this guy, a few streets over:http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g163/caycecollins/other.jpg
Now that I have grossed you out completely, I have just one more thing to mention:
Tomorrow, I will OFICIALLY be half-way through my pregnancy! Woohoo, I am going to drink half a keg of root beer.
Still crazy, after aa-aalll these months!
Blog blog blog, blog for the public! Blog blog blog, blog.
Sorry, public, I haven't had too much to blog about this week.
"But surely something has pissed you off, Cayce?"
Yes, many things, but nothing singly worthy of 30 minutes of typing. You see, I have been busy buying designer maternity jeans on e-bay and researching travel systems and cribs. And working! I have actually worked a lot the past few weeks - feels good.
And no, I have not watched American Idol*. *Okay, I am lying. But just once and just for 15 minutes, and I punished myself by not sleeping all that night.
But here's a brief rundown of my crazed pregnant psyche's recent irritants:
Sweet Mother Of God: Must I miss every single light when I am running late? Every. Single. Light. 12 in a row. Feck me!
My husband walked down the stairs yesterday after I had just mopped them. Put his large footprints on each stair. My face got hot with rage, but I didn't yell. I did, however, launch the mop across the room, and lock myself in the office to pout.
No one wants to talk to me about anything other than my pregnancy. What will we talk about after I give birth? "How big was your placenta?" No. The baby, I guess. Is the rest of my life confined to discussions of my kid? I feel like my identity is my pregnancy and my baby, and no longer me. That sucks eggs; I am cool, too.
Who charges $30 for shipping on a pair of jeans (eBay)? Ab-feckin'-surd.
A child molester just moved in across the street and down 3 houses. I told Ashton never to talk to the neighbors that live at "that" house to which he replied "That's not nice, we should be their friends and ask them to go to the park with us." Uh, no. And have you ever seen the pictures on those child molester printouts? It appears the cops showed up during the actual act and took their mug. They all look greasy, skanky, and guilty. Eww. Look at mine :http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g163/caycecollins/ours.jpg
And then there's this guy, a few streets over:http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g163/caycecollins/other.jpg
Now that I have grossed you out completely, I have just one more thing to mention:
Tomorrow, I will OFICIALLY be half-way through my pregnancy! Woohoo, I am going to drink half a keg of root beer.
wanted: sleep
(originally published on 2/4/2007)
wanted: sleep
I just ended night 3 of bad, bad sleep.
Night one: about 5 hours, due to waking up in the middle of the night and watching too many episodes of "scrubs" (3 hours worth) (thanks, tivo) (i don't even really like this show).
Night two: about 3 hours, not sequential. stepson wanted to sleep with me while hubs was at work (he is a covers stealin' wiggle worm) (woke up with his head digging into my hip bone and his icy little feet in my neck) (watched 2 hours of "the sopranos") (again, tivo). hubs got home at 3:30, put him in his own bed. he was up in my face at 5:08 asking to watch cartoons.
Night three: about 4 hours. couldn't fall asleep because i freaked myself out watching shows about murder before bed ("the first 48" on A&E) (not tivoed). tossed and turned until hubs got in bed around 4. stepson woke me at 5:45 asking for cartoons (actually, he just jumped in the bed, put his icy little nubs on me and started demanding "toons!") (i wanted to punch babies).
And also today for your reading pleasure, I would like to discuss my other pregnancy beefs:
1. my bellybutton hurts2. i am growing thick brown hairs on my belly (sexy!)3. i can't drink beer today during the superbowl (well, i can, but i shouldn't)4. i have lost my appetite (or has it been stolen? hmmmm?)5. i am freakishly crazy about cleaning (nesting) and i smashed my thumb with a hammer yesterday trying to straighten a metal piece to a shelf that has been sitting in my guestroom closet for about six months so the shelf can be used 6. my back is hurting (from sitting up in bed and watching tivoed shows)7. baby has begun kicking me... all day and all night and, while this is exciting, it is a strange sensation that i am not used to
That's about it. and the sleep deprivation
wanted: sleep
I just ended night 3 of bad, bad sleep.
Night one: about 5 hours, due to waking up in the middle of the night and watching too many episodes of "scrubs" (3 hours worth) (thanks, tivo) (i don't even really like this show).
Night two: about 3 hours, not sequential. stepson wanted to sleep with me while hubs was at work (he is a covers stealin' wiggle worm) (woke up with his head digging into my hip bone and his icy little feet in my neck) (watched 2 hours of "the sopranos") (again, tivo). hubs got home at 3:30, put him in his own bed. he was up in my face at 5:08 asking to watch cartoons.
Night three: about 4 hours. couldn't fall asleep because i freaked myself out watching shows about murder before bed ("the first 48" on A&E) (not tivoed). tossed and turned until hubs got in bed around 4. stepson woke me at 5:45 asking for cartoons (actually, he just jumped in the bed, put his icy little nubs on me and started demanding "toons!") (i wanted to punch babies).
And also today for your reading pleasure, I would like to discuss my other pregnancy beefs:
1. my bellybutton hurts2. i am growing thick brown hairs on my belly (sexy!)3. i can't drink beer today during the superbowl (well, i can, but i shouldn't)4. i have lost my appetite (or has it been stolen? hmmmm?)5. i am freakishly crazy about cleaning (nesting) and i smashed my thumb with a hammer yesterday trying to straighten a metal piece to a shelf that has been sitting in my guestroom closet for about six months so the shelf can be used 6. my back is hurting (from sitting up in bed and watching tivoed shows)7. baby has begun kicking me... all day and all night and, while this is exciting, it is a strange sensation that i am not used to
That's about it. and the sleep deprivation
I heart trans fats
(originally published on 1/30/2007)
Eating my words... and trans fats
After I found out I was pregnant I posted a blog about how I really hated preggers who said the types of things I am about to say. Sorry, but I am eating my words.
I wish I would gain some friggin weight already!
I am 18 weeks and I am the same weight I was when I got knocked up. I gained 2 lbs last week (or so I thought) only to realize that Ash uncalibrated... miscalibrated... my scale. He went to the doctor yesterday and when he weighed, I eagerly weighed myself hoping for a subtle increase. But no, I am down. Actually 1 lb below my starting weight. And I was wearing jeans, a heavy sweater, and several thousand layers of tee shirts and tank tops. (Feck, it was cold yesterday!)
My mom says it is because I stopped drinking and cut out so many calories, but I can't believe that had such a grand impact that it would counteract growing a biggole being in my abdomen. If she is right, I should have tried the "no beer diet" long before the "low carb diet". Plus I am eating what I believe to be "tons" of calories... despite what hubs says. He thinks I should be eating all deep fried carbs and sweets. He believes that I am eating "too healthy" and that I won't gain unless I step it up in the trans fats department.
The belly is growing a little bit, but I have to wonder about this because there is an inverse reaction between my weight and my belly. Days I feel like the belly is poking out more are the days I hop on the scale to reveal a loss. I guess my belly size has remained pretty consistent since about week 10. In the morning when I get out of bed the belly doesn't exist and throughout the day it settles into its' "spare tire" facility around my lower abs. But in certain clothes you can't even tell that I am pregnant - at all. Which sucks when I am trying to pull the "I'm pregnant so I can't lift that heavy package" card.
Plus just about everyone who knows me knows that I am expecting. When they see me they want to talk about my pregnancy... see my belly. I have very little to offer these voyeurs. Not much weight gain, not much belly, not much else, really, other than extreme sensitivity during shows about home remodeling (I always cry at "while you were out"... it's weird) and bitchiness beyond relief. Oh yeah, and I have finally fulfilled my fantasies about fitting into a D cup... hooray.
Eating my words... and trans fats
After I found out I was pregnant I posted a blog about how I really hated preggers who said the types of things I am about to say. Sorry, but I am eating my words.
I wish I would gain some friggin weight already!
I am 18 weeks and I am the same weight I was when I got knocked up. I gained 2 lbs last week (or so I thought) only to realize that Ash uncalibrated... miscalibrated... my scale. He went to the doctor yesterday and when he weighed, I eagerly weighed myself hoping for a subtle increase. But no, I am down. Actually 1 lb below my starting weight. And I was wearing jeans, a heavy sweater, and several thousand layers of tee shirts and tank tops. (Feck, it was cold yesterday!)
My mom says it is because I stopped drinking and cut out so many calories, but I can't believe that had such a grand impact that it would counteract growing a biggole being in my abdomen. If she is right, I should have tried the "no beer diet" long before the "low carb diet". Plus I am eating what I believe to be "tons" of calories... despite what hubs says. He thinks I should be eating all deep fried carbs and sweets. He believes that I am eating "too healthy" and that I won't gain unless I step it up in the trans fats department.
The belly is growing a little bit, but I have to wonder about this because there is an inverse reaction between my weight and my belly. Days I feel like the belly is poking out more are the days I hop on the scale to reveal a loss. I guess my belly size has remained pretty consistent since about week 10. In the morning when I get out of bed the belly doesn't exist and throughout the day it settles into its' "spare tire" facility around my lower abs. But in certain clothes you can't even tell that I am pregnant - at all. Which sucks when I am trying to pull the "I'm pregnant so I can't lift that heavy package" card.
Plus just about everyone who knows me knows that I am expecting. When they see me they want to talk about my pregnancy... see my belly. I have very little to offer these voyeurs. Not much weight gain, not much belly, not much else, really, other than extreme sensitivity during shows about home remodeling (I always cry at "while you were out"... it's weird) and bitchiness beyond relief. Oh yeah, and I have finally fulfilled my fantasies about fitting into a D cup... hooray.
I hate buying cars.
(originally posted 1/25/2007)
God, is anything more stressful?
We decided we needed a new car about 30 minutes after we purchased my old car in December of 2004. Let me take you back...
Ahh, the Jetta. When I got it I thought it totally rocked. It was beautiful - leather seats, 5 speed, great mileage, sunroof. Seriously, I felt like I had hit the freakin' jackpot. The first night I owned it I went to look at it in the garage about 50 times during the night - just couldn't believe it was mine.
See, my previous car was a 1990 Volvo, red (well it had faded to a shade close to pink) with black leather, no AC, windows didn't roll down, sunroof didn't always open (or close), tape player (constantly had a Waylon Jennings tape in it), and 1 speaker that thought about working most of the time. I freakin' loved this car. LOVED IT. But in July in Florida, it wasn't practical to have a constantly open sunroof with black leather and no AC. When I traded it in they gave me 35 whole cents for it.
Back to the Jetta (which I also loved)... a few months passed and Ashton grew about 9 inches and the car started feeling really cramped. Dan's knee was always in my way when shifting to 5th gear, Ashton's feet prints became embedded in the back of the passenger seat, and several times I had to pile groceries over the poor child because I had work stuff in my trunk. The car was just too small :(
When I got knocked up I thought: Yes! Now I finally NEED that new car that i have been dreaming of... I can't fit 2 babies, a bigg ole' hunk of man meat (Dan) and groceries into this go-kart: Let's go spend some of our hard earned cash!
So we have been perusing the classified ads and talking about what we wanted to get as our "mom mobile". Dan loves mini vans (weird, huh? fetish...) but I can't possibly drive one: to do so is to admit that I am getting OLD, and that just plain sucks (sorry Lori, but you are old. I kid!). I want a practical SUV that I can fit strollers, cases of wine, and my growing family into comfortably. You know, like a Mercedes or something :) haha.
Yesterday I test drove a Nissan Murano and I really liked, but it is the wrong color (white? too tame for this!) and it smells like smoke covered with an obscene amount of cherry air freshener. Other than that, the car is PERFECT (mileage, payments, etc.).
Well, today I am driving a brand new Xterra. It's a little sporty for my taste, but I love driving it. And it is maroon, which rocks. But I really didn't want to buy a 2007 anything.
And to make matters worse, my brother in law is our salesperson. You might think that it is a blessing to have this guy on our side, but it really isn't: Typically, you tell someone "hell no" and you walk out the door and that's it - you don't have to sit across from this man at every Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner for eternity and look in his eyes. And he has been extremely cool and worked so hard to make it happen that I feel even more obligated to say yes. He has moved mountains to get our payments where we want them and to talk his bosses into giving us the "family deal"... I am pretty sure he wouldn't even make a cent on this thing... and I don't want him to get bitched at by his bosses if he "can't even make a sale to his brother", you know?
So, I am friggin torn. I like both cars, I am not in love with either of them.
Any advice, faithful readers?
God, is anything more stressful?
We decided we needed a new car about 30 minutes after we purchased my old car in December of 2004. Let me take you back...
Ahh, the Jetta. When I got it I thought it totally rocked. It was beautiful - leather seats, 5 speed, great mileage, sunroof. Seriously, I felt like I had hit the freakin' jackpot. The first night I owned it I went to look at it in the garage about 50 times during the night - just couldn't believe it was mine.
See, my previous car was a 1990 Volvo, red (well it had faded to a shade close to pink) with black leather, no AC, windows didn't roll down, sunroof didn't always open (or close), tape player (constantly had a Waylon Jennings tape in it), and 1 speaker that thought about working most of the time. I freakin' loved this car. LOVED IT. But in July in Florida, it wasn't practical to have a constantly open sunroof with black leather and no AC. When I traded it in they gave me 35 whole cents for it.
Back to the Jetta (which I also loved)... a few months passed and Ashton grew about 9 inches and the car started feeling really cramped. Dan's knee was always in my way when shifting to 5th gear, Ashton's feet prints became embedded in the back of the passenger seat, and several times I had to pile groceries over the poor child because I had work stuff in my trunk. The car was just too small :(
When I got knocked up I thought: Yes! Now I finally NEED that new car that i have been dreaming of... I can't fit 2 babies, a bigg ole' hunk of man meat (Dan) and groceries into this go-kart: Let's go spend some of our hard earned cash!
So we have been perusing the classified ads and talking about what we wanted to get as our "mom mobile". Dan loves mini vans (weird, huh? fetish...) but I can't possibly drive one: to do so is to admit that I am getting OLD, and that just plain sucks (sorry Lori, but you are old. I kid!). I want a practical SUV that I can fit strollers, cases of wine, and my growing family into comfortably. You know, like a Mercedes or something :) haha.
Yesterday I test drove a Nissan Murano and I really liked, but it is the wrong color (white? too tame for this!) and it smells like smoke covered with an obscene amount of cherry air freshener. Other than that, the car is PERFECT (mileage, payments, etc.).
Well, today I am driving a brand new Xterra. It's a little sporty for my taste, but I love driving it. And it is maroon, which rocks. But I really didn't want to buy a 2007 anything.
And to make matters worse, my brother in law is our salesperson. You might think that it is a blessing to have this guy on our side, but it really isn't: Typically, you tell someone "hell no" and you walk out the door and that's it - you don't have to sit across from this man at every Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner for eternity and look in his eyes. And he has been extremely cool and worked so hard to make it happen that I feel even more obligated to say yes. He has moved mountains to get our payments where we want them and to talk his bosses into giving us the "family deal"... I am pretty sure he wouldn't even make a cent on this thing... and I don't want him to get bitched at by his bosses if he "can't even make a sale to his brother", you know?
So, I am friggin torn. I like both cars, I am not in love with either of them.
Any advice, faithful readers?
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