Thursday, July 30, 2009

Beat The Heat!

I think all I can say is, "Good Lord."

Jess just said, "We're living in Satan's house." And it's not because this place is haunted—it's because it's friggin' HOT.

Probably the worst thing to happen to me so far is that my car melted.

And it doesn't get much better from there. Unfortunately beating the heat means going to places that are air conditioned. Going to places that are air conditioned means spending lots of dough. I suppose that doesn't have to be true, but when you don't have much willpower, like I don't, the money is sure to flow.

We tried to beat the heat chilling at our place, which happens to have a pool.

Two cool guys.

I have had several ways of beating the heat, some of which I can't tell you about because of the prohibitions listed out in the Geneva Conventions. But I do want to share some of the declassified methods with you.

First of all, take a look at what I'm working with. The heat was so intense that it literally distorted my physical features. See how my ear is all messed up?

Everyone knows that driving around in a car in this heat is some form of suicide. Even with my AC on I still sweat like a pig with a heart condition in an oven. But I walked out of my building after work and saw this guy drive by me shirtless. "Loser," I thought. It took about five to seven seconds to turn that into a good idea. And then this is me about seven minutes later with the obligatory Michael Jackson tunes blaring to capacity.

Another way that Jess and I beat the heat was to move our lives completely downstairs. The upstairs is a furnace of incomparable, unbearable heat. For the last two nites (and tonite, I'm sure) we've had Campout! We blew up our air mattress and watched The Karate Kid.

I had to do something to make this lady happy, look at that face—heat and Jessica do not mix well.

So I completed blowing the thing up.

Jess was still dealing with heatstroke, so it's not surprising that she was less than enthused.

But she warmed up to it pretty quick.

And Gretel was loving every minute of the whole ordeal.

I told Jess we were going old school tonight: none of this fan stuff, we were going to take the heat like they did in the Oregon Trail days—lying down. Tonight we're just going to get in our bed with no artificial cool down methods; what followed was a look of disbelief so intense that it actually caused bodily harm to myself.

Clearly our only option is Campout! again tonight.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Creature Chronicles: Sick Update

Ok, if there is anything I hate it's being a one trick pony, and I don't want this series to only be about how sick Jess gets, and all of the messy fallout thereafter.

That being said this one is too good to pass up. The following is an instant message Jess sent me this morning:

Jessica: I'm dying.

me: Oh honey, your stomach is really bad?

Jessica: nooo, i just wanted you to say "you're not dying" teehehehe... sowwy. No but seriously, I don't feelz nasueous too much, I think seeing something Amy was eating was what brought on the dash to the toilet (seriously, some kind of cold macaroni salad, NASTY) it was like within two minutes that I was just like ok, we gonna get sick NOW.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Creature Chronicles: Slice of Creature Life

Jason: "Jess, you've gotta have something for dinner. You just made me a huge dinner and you didn't have any of it."

Jess: "This will be good enough for me."

I'm worried that our baby might be born with Fetal Ice Cream Syndrome (FICS.) I'm not kidding, it's actually a real thing, that's one day after the FICS baby was born.

By the way, I don't want to soon die, so I must tell you that yes, Jess does eat very healthy. We have nicknamed her the Spinach Vacuum.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Creature Chronicles: The Weight of Glory

The Eve of Week Eight:

For awhile I thought that tragedy had struck: clearly our bank account had been frauded.

How else to explain $17 at the ice cream shop, $10 at Happy Teriaki and $9 at Chipotle on the same day, $7 at Dino's and $5 at Emerald City Smoothie (same day), Burger King and McDonalds and crud from Safeway.

You don't believe me, neither did I, so here is living proof:

07/20/09PURCHASE 90630717023361844262401 ON 07/17 AT MCDONALD'S F411 BURIEN WA-$2.51
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630718041672144262401 ON 07/18 AT BURGER KING 6782 TUKWILA WA-$3.07
07/20/09PURCHASE 90620718001658744262401 ON 07/18 AT SAFEWAY STORE 1 BURIEN WA-$5.00
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630718018713644262401 ON 07/18 AT EMERALD CITY SMOOTHIE BURIEN WA-$5.50
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630717009995544262401 ON 07/17 AT JAMBA JUICE #1099 TUKWILA WA-$6.71
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630718027169844262401 ON 07/18 AT DINOS GYROS BURIEN WA-$7.00
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630716003421544262401 ON 07/16 AT CHIPOTLE 1144 TUKWILA WA-$8.91
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630716011897644262401 ON 07/16 AT HAPPY TERIYAKI REST TUKWITA WA-$10.00
07/20/09PURCHASE 90620718020963144262401 ON 07/18 AT SAFEWAY STORE 1 SEA TAC WA-$21.76
07/20/09PURCHASE 90630718034544244262401 ON 07/18 AT STANFORDS-SOUTH CTR SEATTLE WA-$38.45
07/15/09PURCHASE 90630714031176244262401 ON 07/14 AT COLDSTN CREAM #0408 TUKWILA WA-$15.93
07/16/09PURCHASE 90630714004602544262401 ON 07/14 AT TACO BELL #4574 BURIEN WA-$2.05
07/16/09PURCHASE 90630714025164644262401 ON 07/14 AT BURGER KING 6782 TUKWILA WA-$3.95

Yes, that is an actual screen shot of our bank account*.
But no, that isn't the work of thieves, it's the work of a pregnant woman. Jess has gotten crap all of her life for being "too skinny." Jealous women assume/hope she's anorexic or bulimic so they can feel better about themselves. So far several people have commented to me that Jess needs to pack in the calories and put on some weight, so I wanted to submit to you living proof that SHE'S TRYING WITH ALL HER MIGHT!

I wanted to do our weekly photo shoot with Jess, but she's got the tired bug, so I got even better shots of her sleeping like the beautiful angel that she is:

FYI—My plan for the Creature Chronicles series was to always get Jessica's permission before posting one of these blogs. In her comatose state that just wasn't possible tonight; if you don't find me at all tomorrow, or you find me in too many pieces, you all will know why.

*Ok, yes, I will freely admit that the numbers referring to the total in our bank account have been doctored for privacy reasons: whether they have been raised or lowered I will refuse to comment on; you will have to make that judgment for yourself.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Creature Chronicles!

Today begins a new series here at We Need The Eggs—Creature Chronicles will document the life and times of Creature. Creature, for those of you who haven't figured it out yet, is the person that lives in my wife's belly right now. We're very excited to be hosting Creature for his three quarters of a year stay, before he emerges and becomes Not-Creature anymore (yes, I will be using male pronouns to represent my hope that Jess births a he-Creature, and yet I will be overjoyed if we have a she-Creature). Please enjoy the crazy adventures of Creature, as well as his inevitable effect on us, Mom and Dad.

The Eve of Week Seven:

"Creature make mommy gaggy."

If we already had a two-year-old who could understand physiology enough to use the word "gaggy," that is probably what they would say about Jess.

Vomit highlights thus far: We left a large watermelon in Jess' car over the weekend. She opened up her door Tuesday morning and she swears it smelled like sour milk. She staggered away from her car and, to the horror of all our neighbors, she puked in the condo parking lot.

Then today she opened the freezer at work to behold boxes of frozen food. Yep, that was enough to do it. She was lucky enough to at least make it to the stall before the regurgitation commenced.

Now everything has a smell. She walks into the kitchen and I can see her bracing against the inevitable gag. I opened the garbage and she fled the kitchen like she was an illegal alien and INS was in the can.

It's kind of scary knowing the power that I have. If I began to describe food to her right now, any kind of food, I bet she would begin to gag. That's not something that I would enjoy doing to her, but it is a strangely tempting proposition. In fact...

Ok, fail. No gagging. "Do you know how sick you are that you just did that to me?" she said. Yeah, she figured me out pretty quick.

Anyway, Creature is giving her quite a run for her money right now. Jess has been alternately hot and cold and nauseous and queezy and just perfectly fine since Sunday afternoon. Sometimes I get desperate phone calls from her at work because she wants to tell me what or who she has just thrown up on. Then I give her a call later in the afternoon to check on her and she couldn't sound more chipper and pleased with herself.

But then again, if Jess were physically and emotionally stable during her pregnancy, how much fun would that be?

I think we're all lucky that I'm not the pregnant one.

Monday, July 13, 2009


At three in the morning, as they lay quaking with fear, as we all were in our own tents, Katie turned to her husband Emil and whispered, "No, they're worse than Rednecks—they're Hoosiers." —Spooky and ominous moment from SOMA Camping trip, 2009

They showed up in their Cousin Eddy, and I think we all knew, without really knowing, that our lives might never be the same.

They were Hoosiers, and they were out to have their version of a good time.

Katie would explain to us, the morning after the night none of us were sure we'd make it through, what a Hoosier was.

"Well, a Redneck is, you know, like a cowboy. They wear cowboy boots, and they live out in the country, and they don't really get it that they're that different. But a Hoosier is worse than a Redneck. A Hoosier is someone from the city who acts like a Redneck." They're worse because they should know better.

It was about one in the morning the first time the cops had to come out. They had been loud all night. But all of a sudden there were screams, scuffles and commotion. There was such a stream of MF's and the like that you would have thought you were at a Chris Rock show (a dated reference I know, who is the latest comedian that should be noted for his swears? Let me know if you know).

The details were sketchy and sordid. Apparently a guy had thrown his wife and daughter to the ground. The cops came but nothing happened, and they left.

The Hoosiers continued to revel, somehow my wife and I drifted off to sleep, only to have our blood turn to ice in our veins at three in the morning.

"They're beating the hell out of him!" A woman screamed. A man, with a voice that sounded what I'm pretty sure Satan's must sound like, was drunk and seemed to be looking for blood. There must have been about 20 people within 10 yards of our tent, screaming for help, screaming for blood, screaming because they couldn't think of anything better to do.

I was alternatively imagining a Hoosier unzipping the door of my tent, or one of them driving a truck over our tent as we lay their reciting the Lord's prayer. Emil was waiting for what felt like inevitable gun shots.

In the end it took five cop cars and an ambulance to bring all the fun to a close, somewhere around 4 a.m.

The next day we tried to pretend like everything was ok. We tried smiling for the cameras.

But little Sophia's face told the true story...we were petrified.

Soon the camp broke out into a spirited discussion of how we would possibly survive the inexorable night that would soon fall.

Small discussion groups splintered off and focused on more minute details such as should we actually consult a lawyer about our wills that we were writing out on napkins? And, at what moment would it be best to call the cops tonight, just simply when they began talking, perhaps? Though that isn't wrong in itself, we all knew where it would lead, so why not head it off at the pass?

The conversations and planning exhusted themselves, so we dispatched brave Jovi on a recon/fact-finding mission to gather any inteligence he could on the Hoosiers.

He was able to scout out the fuel they were using for their rage, the choice beer of the Hoosier: Busch.

At about 6:30 the Bragas decided they couldn't take the heat, and they left for home.

Ok, that isn't really true, they had actually been planning on leaving on Saturday evening since we first planned this trip, but it would increase the dramatic tension if it were true, so I won't mind if you forget that was a joke.

And before we knew it, the night once again had come.

And nothing really happened. I think the rain might have taken some of the fight out of them. At about midnight we heard one of them say, "Well it's about time for our domestic dispute," but clearly his heart and enthusiasm was not in it.

In the morning they packed up and left.

And like that,

they were gone.

But their memory will be a burning, traumatic scar in our brains for years to come.