That tattoo looks alright for now...

We're at 15 and a half weeks. Mitch got to hear the heartbeat for the first time today. I heard it four weeks ago at one of my appointments. It's pretty crazy. After having a miscarriage, hearing the heartbeat is just about the only thing that keeps me sane, especially when I'm in this weird second trimester stage, and I don't feel pregnant anymore. I think I felt it squiggle in my stomach yesterday, but it could have just been a doody bubble.

And even though there's this amazing little tiny baby heartbeat on the video, I know you're only looking at my kickass Shel Silverstein tattoo.


And I'm sure you're wondering what it will look like after Snorkels has stretched it beyond recognition. Maybe something like this:

friend request purgatory

If you're not my friend, don't send me a friend request. If you've seen me play a show, that doesn't count. Gawking at me for an hour while I forget the words to my own songs does not constitute being my friend. If you went to a Britney Spears concert, you would not send her a friend request the next day. No, you would go to her band page and click the little thumbs up thing and like her. It doesn't matter that I'm "accessible" because I'm not a superstar (yet!). Just because you think it's funny that I rhymed the words "breast implants" in a song does not mean that I want you having access to the photos I took on my summer vacation to Michigan last year. You shouldn't know my education history, or where I work at my day job. You have sent me friend requests before, and having denied them already, I have discovered that you are either very persistent or very stupid. Therefore, you are forever condemned to Friend Request Purgatory. You, that girl I went to high school with and have already deleted three times, and my mom. Congratulations.

UPDATE: Your mom is now in Purgatory as well. Stop suggesting me as a friend to people.