Cheetos is not in the dictionary!

Okay, so maybe writing break up letters to half of my friends was an act of those legendary Crazy Pregnancy Emotional Outburst Hormones, but what the hell. My life is kind of cluttered, anyways. Less time for friends means more time for blog. And sleeping. And cheetos, currently the most important of all three.

Oh god, I love cheetos now.

A non-broken-up-with friend of mine is studying to be a midwife AS WE SPEAK, and she does...doula...stuff [what is the verb form of 'doula'?!]. She wrote me today, offering her services to me. She promised me that she won't touch me a lot or be 'all up in my junk' [I'm so fucking classy it's UNREAL], and I'm thinking of taking her up on it. Might be nice to have someone who's just a friend [I mean...not my husband and not my mother] around towards the end. She's done it a few times already, and I think she'd totally barter with me...possibly accept sweaters and knitgoods for services rendered. You know. Instead of money. Because today I found out that cribs cost about seven hundred thousand dollars and - as it is - I barely have the extra money to keep myself in cheetos from week to week.

Man, cheetos are awesome.