Yesterday was hard, for many reasons, the first of all being that at 9:30 that morning we were supposed to have our big ultrasound, the one that tells us if we are painting the new nursery pink or green, the one that would settle our names discussion since if it was another girl we would not have to bring up the husband’s favorite name, Stanley, again and I would not have to make faces whenever I heard it mentioned (I mean I think a kid would not like the name Stanley, no matter who he was named after). But instead I am left not knowing, not knowing what caused us to lose our baby or what name I can give to a baby whose sex we do not know. The husband has always thought it was another girl, and while I said I thought it was a boy I really didn’t, I agreed, it was probably a girl. So in my head I have been thinking of the baby as a her, and for some reason I have been calling her Lucy. Of course this all only happens in my head, I wonder if other people would think I was a little crazy if they knew what was going on there. I have been spending a lot of time online, reading and trying to find out where I might fit, where I might find some community. After the first few days I quit researching the reasons behind a second trimester miscarriage, there were no answers there and I was torturing myself. But because I just cannot deal with the real people I know and that damn head tilt (you know the one they give you when they ask how you are) I went looking for online strangers that I could relate to, the search has been so/so. I started at a place I already went to, a pregnancy/parenting website with message boards. I have been posting over there for a few years, since I was pregnant with the bug, I mean I wonder over there when I am bored and stuff. So I checked out the pregnancy loss board, but I didn’t feel very welcome, I shouldn’t say that because I never posted anything, I just lurked for awhile and realized that while the women there seemed super supportive that they also did not like signatures on posts that included pictures of children or pregnancy counters. I get that, really I do but I am not ready to delete the bug’s cute picture of riding a carousel at the county fair this summer just to post on a message board. Mostly because I cannot even imagine what this time would be like if I didn’t have her. Would I have curled up in bed for days on end watching Law and Order marathons if someone didn’t need a diaper change and a sippy of milk? Probably. But instead I am forced to get up and play dollies and listen to toddler laughs and get sloppy kisses, I cannot even put into words how much all of that has helped me. Even her temper tamptrums are somehow more precious to me. Believe me I know that that will wear off sooner rather than later. But I do not blame these women, a lot of them do not have any children to take up all of those hours, but I need mine. So off I went to find some other spaces, but more often than not I feel like a square peg (does anyone remember that show? SJP before Sex and the City? I mean I barely remember that show). Somehow I have a hard time seeing where I can fit in. Many of the people I have come across struggle with infertility, this has not been part of our story. Through sheer dumb luck and clockwork cycles I have gotten pregnant both times right away. Now I do not know what the future holds and in July I will be 35, but for now the doctors have not seen any issues with me. But I have found some good blogs through this, reading about other people’s struggles has made me feel better. So has writing, but getting my thoughts out on paper (or micrsoft documents) has always helped me, probably why I went into the profession I am in. So for now I will write here and continue read other people and think about the ways I am so lucky as I follow the big around and pick up small bits of cookie and slobber. To end on a funny note I have to tell you about this. We are finishing our move this weekend, and while we are only moving 15 minutes away it is to this tiny little town with a population of like 3,000 people. So when we were there yesterday I noticed how cold it was, well cold for WV, not for two former Midwesterners. I was annoyed with the gas company thinking that they never turned it on on Monday like they said they would. So after waiting 15 minutes this morning and getting ready to rip someone a new one I find out that they were just there on Wednesday taking a reading, could the pilot have gone out? I have no clue mostly because I have no idea what a pilot light is. So despite assurances from the husband that he would check, I decided to bypass the whole thing and call the property manager (yes we are renting because even though we are ready to buy, no one told the WV housing market that and it SUCKS!). He assures me that he will head over to the house and take care of it, but very quickly I get another call, it seems that someone has stolen our gas meter. What. The. Fuck? I didn’t even know this was a possibility, I mean what the hell does one do with a gas meter once you have stolen it? The gas man my husband met with today says that it is actually not uncommon, I guess someone who needs gas goes looking for an empty house with the gas still on and just takes it. Again I have to say what the fuck? The only downside now is that our house, in the 3,000 tiny little town outside of the city is now considered high risk for crime and someone will always have to be home if the gas man has to come. I am so very pleased.

First of all I want to say wow, thank you, all of you. In my quest to find some community in which I could fit now that all of this has happened, it seems the community found me. Thank you LFCA, you found me when I needed you most. And thank you to whoever put that in motion, really. I have never been what you would call a religious person, I mean I was raised Catholic, a religion my husband and I still practice. And by practice I mean we go to church every Sunday and observe practices like not eating meat on Fridays during lent, which just means we aren’t Christmas and Easter Catholics. My faith in God is strong, my faith in humans not so much, so I do often find myself at odds with the Church, not God, the church because I do not think it is a sin to be gay and the only one who knows what God said is God and maybe Mother Theresa, but that’s all. I also find it obnoxious when people quote scripture at you for everything, because it usually implies that you are somehow not doing something correct in your spiritual quest. But again I’m Catholic and we don’t tend to be too obnoxious about religion, you know like asking if people have found god or are saved (note I do not find it obnoxious if you believe these things, only if you won’t shut up about it), the only people who tend to lecture like that are priests and nuns and that’s ok because that’s their job and stuff. What I find odd right now about my faith is that it has been strengthened, not lessened by the loss of our baby. This is odd because I would have thought I would be the one railing against god for this, but I’m not. I think it’s because I know God would never be that cruel, he would not have caused our baby do die just because, there was a reason. He has a plan. Now I do not want this post to go off of the rails, but since I tend to go inward when I am upset and not out toward other people I am trying to make sense of my tangled thoughts (even as I know rhetorically that is strange since this is a blog post and it is going outward, but I am turning off my English professor mind for awhile). Specifically I am thinking about tomorrow, how at 9:30 we were supposed to have another look at the baby, make sure he/she was growing and hopefully find out the sex. But since the best explanation any of the doctors have is that there was probably a chromosomal anomaly, the day would not have been as happy as I thought it would be. They probably would have found that there was something wrong and then we would have been faced with decisions, or rather faced with coming to terms with decisions that had already been made. The husband and I had this discussion before we had the bug, what would we do if something was found wrong with one of our children? Our agreement was instant, we would do nothing, we would not terminate and we would, as cheesy as it sounds, let God’s will be done. Now I am not as articulate as I usually am today, so please believe me when I say that my sharing this with you is not a judgment on anyone who had faced that situation and made a different decision, really I am not. And believe me I am a judgmental person, usually about stuff like “Honey what possessed you to buy and then wear those shoes, in public no less” or “dude did the car really only come in babyshit yellow?” The important stuff is for someone else (no not you) to judge, it is above my pay grade. I am just saying that this was our decision. I wonder if God took that decision away from us so that we would not have to make it. Is it possible that my mother is right when she tells me that God only gives us what we can handle and maybe I should stop grinding my teeth and listen to her occasionally. I don’t know, I will probably never know that. And right now what I don’t know would fill an amphitheatre. What I do know is that I am not looking forward to when this calm cloud lifts. Wish me luck.

Today should be the day that I explain my long absence from this blog, when I tell you all about how busy work has been as the semester ends, how we up and decided to move in the middle of all of this craziness especially as we packed up and headed on a family vacation to Florida, all right before the holidays, but instead I am writing to talk about how our second child was born sleeping last week. On November 21rst at 18 weeks 6 days pregnant my water broke while I was in Florida. I was taken by ambulance to the local hospital where an ultrasound showed that our baby has passed away about two weeks before. People keep asking me how we are and all I can answer with is numb. We were, I must admit, blindsided. Here I was in my second trimester of my second pregnancy that was progressing as smoothly as my first, we never saw this coming. The next few weeks will be filled with follow up appointments and testing that in the end will probably tell us nothing. It seems like this, like so many other things in life, will have no real answers. The best anyone has been able to tell us is it is just one of those things that happen. But there is hope, hope that we will have no trouble in the next pregnancy although I find it hard to even think about. Or maybe that is all that I can think about because the thought of never smelling the sweet breath of a baby would be too much for me to bear. The fact that we have a happy and healthy child is our hope that we will have more. But for now we are just concentrating on getting through Christmas and unpacking the new house before spring thaws out this cold.

Dude have you seen this story and then this sorta mea culpa after this video came up? Also check out all the comments of people screaming from one side or another, I swear you will waste like at least an hour reading this stuff, or maybe you actually clean your house when you’re supposed to and do not look for other things to do like me. If that is you, bite me, go dust something and leave the rest of us slackers alone.

So of course because my life is so very boring and I have no funny stories to share with you, I would like to add my two cents. Now obviously this woman exaggerated her story for dramatic effect, hey if cable news can do it, why not her. But also, that TSA video that is supposed to prove this woman an out and out liar, obviously edited. What? Our government would never do something to make themselves look better in the face of bad press? Yeah, let me ask you a question, who killed JFK? So at the end of the day I don’t really trust either party, but I do think we need to constantly evaluate TSA performance, not because I say so but because a bunch of other people whose job it is to test this stuff says so, because while you better not put some water in a sippy cup, or accidentally leave a trial size vial of Clinique lip gloss in your purse (ok this one is me, I am obviously a horrible person) – real weapons are actually still getting through. I have no beef with TSA agents, I have flown a lot and have flown with the bug and never had an issue, but lots of other people have. And while it does not seem like the TSA agents actually took the woman’s child out of her sight, I do not think that would be unbelievable, even if they TSA has guidelines that children are never separated from parents, which is a very good rule cause if someone I did not know, TSA agent or not, tried to take my child somewhere else someone better call that cops, because I would get physical if need be. Also, what the hell is up with the plastic box? Nice way to treat people, you know paying customers. I don’t care what anyone says that is bullshit, and also not secure, she was left alone long enough to get rid of anything that may have been dangerous, so do not give me the security excuse. Again, I would be gone because I am not getting in that box, sorry. One of the reasons I hate to fly is because of the security check, and while I understand we have to have some security what we need is security that actually works and does not demean and humiliate people who are just trying to travel. I get anxious and flustered because I am afraid of stepping the wrong way and getting a strip search and while I have never had any problems I have seen some unjustifiable racist profiling going on in the airport. I think it will change and soon, people do not like being treated like criminals when they haven’t done anything and you know that whole people who sacrifice liberty for security will lose both or something like that. But I know you came here for a funny story.

 The best story I have ever heard actually comes from my husband, and while not rage inducing is absolutely hysterical.

First of all the husband is always, and I mean always being pulled aside for secondary screening. The best I can tell is because of his size, because otherwise he is so wholesome looking he could be in a J. Crew ad. But he is a big guy, 6’4 and built like a linebacker. But that’s ok, it never takes long and we’re used to it now. And when I mean it never takes long I mean he has never been put in a plastic box and waited 10 minutes. Anyway, add to this the fact that the husband has a titanium plate in his ankle; it is actually holding his ankle together, so you know, it’s important. Now sometimes this sets off the airport metal detector, he explains the situation, they wand his ankle, see the monster scar and we are on our way, but this one time, oh baby. Let me set the scene for you, the husband sets off the metal detector:

The husband: I do have a titanium plate holding my ankle together.

TSA: Step back through sir. (the husband beeps again) Sir do you have any metal in your pockets?

TH: No, I do have a titanium plate holding my ankle together.

TSA: Step back through sir. (the husband beeps, again). Sir, are you sure you do not have any metal on you?

TH: (with a confused look) No, but I have a titanium plate holding my ankle together.

TSA: Please come over here sir.

At this point the TSA guy starts wanding my husband. He gets all the way down to his ankle where, you guessed it, the wand started beeping.

TSA: Sir, do you have something on your ankle?

TH: I have a titanium plate in my ankle (this is the first inkling that the husband is getting a bit frustrated, mostly because he is a better person than me, cause I would have been annoyed much sooner but also because I was standing nearby laughing my ass off.)

TSA: Could you lift up your pant leg? (husband does so where it is obvious that he has had surgery due to the very large scar) Sir do you have some sort of metal in your ankle?

Now imagine if you will gigantic peals of laughter and a thump as I fall on the ground to laugh some more.

TH: Yes, I have a titanium plate holding my ankle together.

TSA: Well, can you take it out?

TH: (and this is why I love him) Not without a scalpel and a screwdriver.

Eventually Stephan Hawking’s cousin calls over a supervisor who in about 3 minutes clears the husband, although it takes a bit longer to pick me up off the floor.

And that is the best airport story ever.

I have to admit that we had the best day yesterday. We went down to this place that is a cool farmer’s market/food co-op that changes according to season for a pumpkin feast for the kids. We invited a few friends and a great time was had by all. These friends have a little girl about 6 weeks older than the bug and are expecting their second as well, about a week after us. We totally do not plan these things, but we do think it’s funny. It is nice to be able to compare pregnancies and kids with someone else my age, although she tends to get a little competitive over stuff, like she was really beside herself because her daughter did not have teeth until she was a year old, really I mean it’s teeth how the hell can you control that? My kid has very little hair; it does drive me a little crazy only because I want to buy her cute barrettes, but since there is not much I can do about that I am not too bothered.

But we were having a good time comparing the obnoxious comments people make to pregnant women. I do not know what it is about normal people but their foot seems to go right to their mouth when it comes to making small talk with pregnant people. Which seems odd to me because the person who you should really mind your manners around is a hormonal and nauseous woman, but there you have it. Honestly I do not remember people being too obnoxious around me the first time around, but I think that may be because you are in your own world you really don’t pay much attention. But the second time around things are a little different. So anyway, here are our favorites:

1. I bet you are hoping for a boy this time!- never ask people what gender they want their yet unborn child to be, it’s obnoxious and rude. Cause even if they are secretly hoping for one or the other they are not going to admit it to you because they know that you would just judge them- yeah I’m talking to you, you know it’s true. Also there are parents who do not care, really, I’m one of them. My response to this is: Well I want three kids so this one’s a gimme- that usually shuts people up.
2. How is your daughter taking it? – First you should think about the age of the older child when asking this question, cause when people say this to me I give them a look- you know the look that says, she doesn’t think much of it because she is 20 months old. Serious I asked her if she wanted a baby brother or sister and she gave me a quizzical look and said “no, juice.” So that’s it, no baby, just some juice please because that is how your mind works when you are 20 months old! And even if said child is old enough to have an opinion, what if that opinion is not good? People aren’t going to tell you that either, you know cause of the judging (see #1)- also what would you say if the parent in question told you something weird and freaky? Too much knowledge is sometimes a bad thing.
3. Wow you are popping out so early. – if you choose to say this to a pregnant woman I would make sure that you do it from a distance from which she cannot slug you, cause you would deserve it. Believe me, we know exactly what we look like and yes, indeed we have started to show early, but that would probably be because this is our second child, for me it is the second time I have been pregnant in two years. And no we do not need you to point that out, thanks anyway though.
4. Wow you’re having another one? – dude this is my second child, I mean I’m not Michelle Duggar, I’m not in double digits yet. Two children is not a crazy number, but wait I want three or four- so give me that surprised look now, and thank you for letting me know that kids are expensive because that information is new to me.

What are your favorites?

So there is this store downtown which sits right on a main street, and at this time of the year I dread going by, actually I find other ways to the mall between Oct. and January. Why? Because I get totally creeped out. You seem this store is, oh how to put it delicately, a monument store. No? Ok, you forced me to spell it out, it is a store that sells headstones. Of course this is really not the creepy part, there have to be headstone stores, where else would people get headstones? I know that no one wants to think of that, but you know taxes and death being the only sure things in life and all. But what is creepy, what makes me drive the long way around is that the monument store decorates for the holidays. And I do not mean that they put up some tasteful Happy Whatever sign and let it be, no they go all out. Right now they have hung fake spider webs, orange pumpkin lights, scary cats and broom leaned up against headstones – their showroom floor looks exactly like a movie set cemetery. I have to ask why the hell they would do this. I know that that big showroom looks out over a busy street, but do they really think this will drum up business for them? And really if you are a headstone salesman does your business every slow down? Halloween is not the worst though, oh no not by far. For Christmas they have a whole Christmas Carol think with Ebenezer Scrooge and all of the ghosts. At least they didn’t put some happy blinking twinkle lights up, but still. I guess that I expect a place selling headstones would have a little bit of decorum, but I would be wrong. I just do not know how those decorations help their clients when they come in. I would guess people coming to buy a headstone are not in the best of mood, maybe they don’t want Casper making noises at them or a fake hand grabbing at their hand. But oh, I have saved the best for last. Randomly during the year they decorate the window facing headstones with happy birthday messages. At any time you can look over and see “Happy Sweet 16 Lucy!” all over a headstone. I just have to ask who thinks this is a good idea. And how do you feel if you are the person whose birthday is all over some headstone that everyone can see as they drive by. Do you send a thank you card for that?

Someone had to do it, because obviously there are many, many people out there who do not know that slang phrases have a shelf life, and an age limit, and a cultural identity. And they need someone to let them know point blank that some phrases just need to die already, and never come back. Phrases and words that can now leave our common lexicon forever:

1. Ya know what I’m sayin’- no I do not know what you are saying and repeating that phrase after every sentence just makes it that much more difficult to understand what, in fact, you are saying.

2. Blew up my phone- my mother actually said this to me the other day, god knows where she got that from- I told her I was too old to use that phrase so she should stop- actually everyone should stop because someone is going to say that in line at the airport and that shit is not funny.

3. Fo shizzle- no, just no

4. Hellz yeah- unless you say it ironically, and let’s face it, who does, you are too old and middle class to get away with this.

5. Cougars- seriously? This is the best we can come up with for women who like to date younger men? Is there a male equivalent of that? Yes? What’s their name? Oh yeah they don’t have one, stop being a sexist douche.

6. Bra- used in place of bro- I do not know where this started, and I don’t care, just stop because it makes my ears bleed.

7. Man-date/Bro-mance- Again, we need to name a relationship in which two men hang out together? I once jokingly said my husband had a man-date when he was going out with his BFF- he said if I ever said that again he would never leave the house, also I should not use the term BFF when discussing men, I guess. Are men now just not allowed to be friends? That sucks dudes, sorry.

8. Git R Done- If I see one more person wearing a shirt with this saying on it I will not be held responsible for my actions, namely running them over with my car.

9. Epic- mostly because people who use this as an adjective or adverb actually have no knowledge of what it means. Dude your party was not, in fact, epic.

And phrases and words that can stay and/ or I am glad came back.

1. Douche- I do not know why this left us for awhile, but douche is now enjoying a renaissance- or douchaissance if you will. Thank god because sometimes this is the only word that works.

2. Hinky- Cause sometimes this is the only word for when something is just a little off.

3. Stabby- Oh thank you Bloggess for such a perfect adjective- it works on some many levels and it will not be long before it is in the OED.

4. Dude- I enjoy it and it works for everyone, really it has become non-gendered, and you can convey a whole conversation with just this one word.

5. Fail- cause that shit is funny.

What would you like to add to the list?

At a playdate with some friends, and friends of friends this weekend a topic came up on which I dread. I will do anything not to be sucked into this conversation; I will suddenly need to leave the room for a drink of water, a diaper change or an important phone call. Or I will become fascinated with pictures on a wall, or books stacked neatly on a shelf, or at the very least be struck deaf “what? I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.” The topic of course is the most controversial of all mom topics: cry it out. I avoid this topic like the plague not because I fear judgment or worry I will lose my temper. The problem is that I do not really have strong opinions on the subject. I guess I assume that barring laziness and neglect, which are totally different subjects, that people know their kid, and they know what will work, and know what won’t. Well maybe I have one opinion, I think probably that you shouldn’t try cry it out until your kid is 6 months. When the conversation turns this way I can see the room divide and I honestly do not know where to stand because like most things in my life I never take the simple road. Did the bug cry it out, kind of, at 11 months I let her cry it out for a preset 10 minutes, after 7 she was fast asleep and we have rarely had any sleep issues after that. But the road to those ten minutes was a long, long one. I often say that I am an infant sleep expert- not because the bug had a sleep issue, which she did although compared to others it was mild- but because I have read every infant sleep book currently in print. I am not over exaggerating, I mean all of them. When I say this people who do not know me often look at me with a skeptical lift of their brow, while people who do know me give a little shrug like “sounds like you” and wait for me to go on with the rest of the conversation. This is because reading and researching is how I process, how I figure stuff out, which often makes me annoying I am sure since I also have a photographic memory (I will totally forgive anyone who would like to not be my BFF anymore, I know I am a Geeky Mcgeekerson, so I will understand). So anyway, the bug started sleeping 6-8 hours a night between 2-4 months, I thought that we had won the baby lottery, well except for naps, which she only took while being held or in her swing. She also slept in her car seat because reflux meant that sleeping on her back was not happening. By the time she was four months old we started a bedtime routine and transitions to the crib, all did not go well. At first I was worried that she would immediately flip on her tummy, but her pediatrician was un-phased, at four months if she wanted to sleep on her stomach that was fine. But then it was the never ending night waking, the playing and screaming and bottles. We were exhausted, which is when I turned to the well known books, which were good for general ideas, but they needed to be tweaked for my very stubborn baby. By 9 months my husband was done, he was ready to let her do a little crying, I was not convinced. I thought maybe it would be too cruel, so many people said no never do that to your kid, but just as many said that kids need their sleep and the sooner they learn to sleep the better off they will be, so I told my husband we could try, soon. But I kept putting it off, so one night the husband sent me on an errand and put the bug to sleep. He read her two stories, gave her a bottle and rocked her for a bit, then he laid her down and left the room. He set the clock for 10 minutes, after 7 she was fast asleep. Now I am a bit better about letting her cry a little, especially since I can tell what is a real cry and what is a fake cry. But I still do not want to be dragged into that conversation because inevitable someone will judge your choices or think that you are judging them. But I think I do need a new strategy for avoidance because no one really thinks that I have gone deaf.

And here I thought those day were gone, well at least until April when a new little one will spend months on end making me change clothes four times a day. Or maybe not cause one time when the bug was new the husband came home one day and asked me what was on my shirt, it was baby puke, I have no idea how long it had been there and I did not care.  But I guess these are the war wound sof potty training. Although I should not say training because the bug is only 19 months old and I do not want to push the whole potty thing. Instead every time I go to the bathroom I ask the bug if she wants to sit on her potty, which she always does cause the thing is pink and looks like a throne. We also sit her on it before and after her bath. And this is when I got peed on, but that is not the funny part of the story, because I have been peed on many a time. Not only by my own kid, but for some reason every niece and nephew has peed on me. I have no idea why.  Before I had a kid I would be a little grossed out, but would never let on, especially since my one crazy sister in law would take that as a personal parenting failure. But then you have your own kid and you’re like, oh look I just got peed on in the most nonchalant way because really you are so sleep deprived and over having bodily fluids all over you that it just becomes part of the day. You know, wake up, feed the baby, have some coffee, get peed on, feed the baby rinse and repeat. But it could be worse, the husband always gets pooped on, which I find endlessly funny. But back to my story. It was after bath and the bug sat on her potty talking away. She seemed to be done so I picked her up and felt my leg get wet. I thought it was just bath water until I looked down and saw some pee in the potty. We were very excited and did a little pee pee dance there in the bathroom when it hit me. Dude I think I picked her up while she was still peeing and it is now on my leg. The husband found this very funny. Oh well, no biggie, I will just throw the bug in some PJ’s and change my pants (cause I am one of those people who gets home and gets right into comfy pants cause why play the hero?) and we will be good to go. Except that in the midst of getting on PJ’s, and reading a story and singing a bed time song and making sure the bug had her blankie and bunny I forgot all about it. It wasn’t until much later while I was trying to watch House that the husband looked over at me zonked out on the couch and asked “Are you still wearing the pee pants?” Yep, I was. I shrugged, they had dried, what? And I know what you’re thinking, there has to be a line right? But lay off and quit your judging you whore, I am pregnant and tired but I will still give a smack down, or probably not because I way too tired to get off the couch. And my husband had the same thoughts, but being a smart man he just ran upstairs to get me some new pants, he’s a good man. But probably also just did not want to go to bed with some pee pants, cause I was not prepared to get up in the middle of House and I would most likely have forgotten again and there I would be, blissfully asleep, still wearing some pee pants.

So have I told you that I love my job, I mean I really, really enjoy my job. I like my job in the if I win the $170 million powerball I would still go to work, I would just donate my salary back to the school way.  I mean I love books and talking so the fact that someone actually pays me to talk about books all day still floors me. And yeah it was a lot of hard work to get the PhD, but I did enjoy it even though I wish it would have paid better. And on the whole I enjoy my students and colleagues, I mean there are some days I have to try really, really hard not to go all stabby on someone, but you know every job has that. What I do not like about my job is some other people’s reaction to it. One would think that I would love to tell people what I do for a living, but I actually dread that part of meeting new people when they ask you what you do for a living, cause some people can be absolute asshats when it come to a proper response. I guess they were raised by wolves because my manners say that no matter what someone says they do, even if they like embalm people for a living, the proper response is : “wow that sounds so interesting/fun/cool” and maybe ask a follow up question. But for the love of god and all that is holy you say something polite. But no, when that question happens to me the response falls into one of two categories and its split 50/50. People either say “cool” or start making an ass of themselves to “show you” how smart they are, and how so not smarter than them you are. Honestly it is annoying, because I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass what you do for a living, and while I probably know more about books than your average person, that’s about it. But without fail either way, I usually get some form of the statements below:

1. Oh have you read some (random, always random) book? No? (disappointed look). Dude I have not read every book ever published, sorry.
2. Oh I better watch my grammar! Yeah unless someone pays me to care about your grammar, I do not care about your grammar.
3. Well you’re not a real doctor. By that I assume that you mean that I do not hold a medical degree that is true. But I do hold a doctorate in literature, which technically makes me a Dr. But again unless you are in my class there will probably not arise a situation in which you need to refer to me that way. But thanks for the sentiment.
4. Wow I always wondered what people who majored in English did, I guess unless you go to grad school it is a pretty useless degree. Why thank you for completely dismissing what I do for a living. I guess since I don’t ask if you want fries with that I am totally not helping humanity.
5. I was going to go to grad school, but the earning potential just wasn’t there, how do you live on what you make? Oh look at that, you’re a douche, isn’t that nice. I have to ask you how much money you need, cause I make a good living. I mean it’s not champagne and caviar every night, but we’re good. Oh but I forgot you’re douche who for some reason feels the need to be better than everyone else. And now I am now looking for someone more interesting to talk too.
6. I started grad school (law, med ect) but the profs didn’t like me because I was too smart. I was smarter than them and they were jealous. Yeah dude that happens all the time.  I could go on, but hey why don’t I introduce you to this nice guy, he makes a lot of money and would like to tell you all about it.