I have a freebie. I love freebies. Doesn’t everyone like something for free?

What is my freebie for? Well, I have a coupon for one free download at iTunes. I got it off the back of my cereal box. And it’s burning a hole in my pocket.

I’ve been carrying it around with me for over a week. I take it with me to work everyday and it sits on my desk, just staring at me. Daring me to use it. Every night I take it home with me. It sits on my kitchen table, again, staring at me. It’s taunting me to use it.

Why don’t I just use it, you may ask? Because I’m afraid to. What if I choose the wrong song? What if I end up not liking it? What if I find another song I want better, after I use my coupon? There is a lot of pressure riding on this.

Do I want to download an Old 97’s song I don’t have (as if there’s one I don’t have)? We all know how much I love me some Rhett Miller. Or should I try out the new Paris Hilton single? I’ve heard it’s actually good (really?).

What about a song for Babboo? He might like a new Raffi song since we’re all getting just a little sick of Baby Beluga over and over again. Although I’m not sure I want my 3 month old to run the music here at our house. No, we must train him to like adult music. Hum, adult music sounds like porno soundtracks. Maybe grown-up music is a better term to use in this instance.

I asked The King for suggestions and he said I should get a Jurassic 5 song. I already have too much Jurassic 5 on my laptop. I don’t need one more song. Plus, I’m sure The King’s got more of their cd’s on our “holds” list at the library. Yep, I’m steering away from any rap.

I feel like I’d like a fresh summer tune. Or maybe the best song from a really good band that I’ve never listened to. Or maybe even a really good song from a movie. Or a TV show. Or a commercial. Really, just any good song will do.

Oh, or maybe a good story from something on NPR. (Can you buy those on iTunes?)

I’m at a loss. And I’m not sure why I’m so afraid to use it. I mean, its .99 cents for a download. Not to mention the credit I currently have over at iTunes (which I’m also afraid to use).

I wish I could just use it for a candy bar or ice cream. That would be so much easier.

Any suggestions for what I should use it for? Or maybe a good cause I could donate it to.

You know when your baby gets a stuffed up nose and can’t breathe? And you just want to yell at him to just blow your nose, already!? Well, that’s what’s going on at our house right now.

Poor Babboo can’t seem to breathe. Especially when he has his face smooshed up against my boobies. Which makes him not want to eat, which makes him too upset to eat and very tired, but not able to actually fall asleep.

Which means I was up most of the night trying to calm him down enough for him to fall back to sleep. It was a long night for Mommy. But not for Daddy.

I know, I know, I should have woken him up to help out. Believe you me; I’ll wake him up tonight.

I survived being in charge of the time sheets last Friday. Only one guy didn’t turn his in. Come to find out he was in Nicaragua. Um, do people even go to Nicaragua? And if they do go there, WHY? I didn’t ask him why he was there. I just did his time sheet for him.

Framing continues over at the new house. The framer seems to be a much harder worker than the concrete crew was. He even invited us to his kid’s birthday party on Saturday. We didn’t go, but he gets points for inviting us, complete strangers.

(Oh, and is it odd that the framer asked The King for $3,000 up front because he needed it for his kid’s FIRST birthday party? I don’t know what kind of parties are being thrown in this day and age, but be assured Babboo won’t have a first birthday party that costs that kind of money!)

And still, no picture of Baby Suri.

(crap, I just remembered that Baby Suri was born the same day as my Sweet Babboo. I hate that. Yes, I hate it so very much!)

I really want to talk about MySpace. I’ve been sucked into it. But I don’t really understand how it works. You leave comments on their page? But you can’t IM through it? Why don’t you just e-mail the person? Or better yet, call them on the phone? It just makes me feel old.

I’m not going to talk about MySpace today. For fear that I will say something really stupid and affirm that I am, in fact, really old.

And really stupid.

So we’ll talk about MySpace another day. Okay?

The head of my division here at work sent me an e-mail last week. He asked me to fill in for a coworker while she was on vacation this week. He said I would just need to approve time sheet. I wrote him back and was all “yeah, that’s sounds fine. I don’t mind helping her out a bit.” I thought it would be easy. Me, approve time sheets? No big deal.

That is until she spent over 4 hours training me.

Crap, this is a big deal. And I don’t really understand all the rules. Can you charge 10 hours to LWOP if you only have 7 hours of sick time? What? You can’t? Crap.

I am so screwed. I don’t even know the rules and I’m the one in charge this week.

And next week.

I imagine I’ll spend the better part of today trying to figure this all out.

The worst part is that after she trained me she looked me in the eyes, touched my arm, and said, “Isabel, don’t screw this up!”

I’m pretty sure I’m going to screw this up.

Maybe I should just forget about approving the time sheets and get back on MySpace to find out who from my high school is now fat and divorced.

When I was in junior high and high school I used to borrow clothes from my friend Jamie all the time. (I am so dorky when it comes to making up pseudonyms.) She was a year younger than I was, so we didn’t go to the same school. This worked out perfectly for me.

My family was poor so I never had good clothes. Jamie’s family didn’t have any more money than we did, but she had way nicer clothes. Clothes that she always let me borrow.

I would call Jamie at night on the phone and request a specific outfit. She would then met me at the fence and hand it over. She was always so eager to let me borrow things. I loved it when Jamie would want to borrow something of time, but that rarely ever happened. I had two Gap shirts that I bought at Ross Dress for Less that she liked, but besides that I didn’t have anything she wanted.

Jamie on the other hand had tons of things I wanted to borrow. She had this great khaki shirt and too many striped shirts to count (I was really in stripes). She also had this awesome white sweater. I thought I looked so great in it, so I loved to borrow it.

Then one day I ruined the sweater. I got some bright blue ink on it in my Dad’s graphic art class. Bright blue ink. On Jamie’s white sweater. It was so ruined.

I was horrified.

Since Jamie didn’t go to my school, I had to actually call her on the phone and break the bad news to her. I was so scared. Would she hate me? Would she yell? Would she cry? Would she make me buy her a new sweater with my non existent money? Would she tell her parents on me? And what if, gasp, she wouldn’t let me borrow her clothes anymore? I would be forced to wear my same two Gap shirts every day and my one pair of Jordache jeans.

I called Jamie and told her. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t worried about it at all. She didn’t even tell me to buy her a new sweater. She thought the existing sweater was still wearable (it wasn’t) and that maybe we could get the blue ink out of it (we couldn’t). She did request that I buy her some new shirts to equal the amount of the cost of the ruined sweater. Which, to be frank, I don’t think I ever did.

The worst part was that both of our parents said we couldn’t loan each other our clothes anymore. This was the worst punishment I could have imagined.

How could my parents not understand that I needed Jamie’s clothes? I had to have them. I truly needed them. I needed her khaki shirt and her button down Gap shirt. I needed her striped shirts. Without them I would be lost. And also terribly dressed.

Jamie could have cared less about this punishment. So what. So she couldn’t wear my two shirts. She still had her awesome skirt. She was set. And stylish.

Eventually Jamie started to let me borrow her things again. I was back to being barely presentable at school. (I still had the hair down to my butt, which wasn’t really a good look for me. I’ll admit it.) She really was a good friend to let me wear her things. I tried extra hard to keep them in good shape. I even wore an apron when I was in my Dad’s class.

I always wore borrowed clothes. I wore a borrowed dress to my first semi-formal dance. I wore a borrowed outfit in my family photo (my Mom also wore something borrowed from another friend). I wore a borrowed dress to my high school graduation.

I’m pretty sure this scarred me for life.

Now that I’m an adult I never borrow clothes from my friends (except for the boxes and boxes of maternity clothes my bestest friend gave me). I’m always trying to get more clothes. Since I still don’t have very much money, I always get my clothes on sale. My goal in life is to have a closet full of clothes. Clothes, clothes, clothes.

The kicker was when I got back from shopping at the Gap last weekend and realized I had bought the exact same (black) shirt that I had bought on my previous trip to the Gap.

Exact same shirt.

That I already owned.

Maybe I should pack it up and send it to Jamie. I probably owe her.

I haven’t been very good about keeping up on my gossip habit since Babboo was born. I’m trying to be better, since I truly do love me some gossip. I’m still trying to figure out where Baby Suri is. Or if Baby Suri exists. (What do you think?)

Did you see this article on the Gucci baby frontpack that Gwen Stefani has for her new little guy? There is even a poll about it over at US Weekly. I figure there’s nothing wrong with Gwen spending that kind of money on a sling for her baby. Gwen’s known for being super trendy. Why not use her style now that she’s a New Mom? I personally don’t like the look of the front pack, but that’s just me. And really, how safe does it look with the baby all scrunched up at the bottom??

But back to more serious topics, does Baby Suri exist? Or was Katie Holmes’ pregnancy a fake? And if this baby does, where are the freaking pictures?

(I’m still hoping that Katie pulled her head out and left Tom’s wacky self-promoting self.)

Today is the final concrete pour over at the new house. That means framing will begin later in the week. And then it will actually look like a real live house. It will still be a while before the house is actually done and we can move out of this tiny one bedroom apartment.

I just hope it happens before Babboo gets much bigger and the plastic toys take over our apartment. Or he takes over with his crawling and walking and toys, oh my.

The King tells me that we may be able to celebrate Christmas at the new house. His Dad tells me we may be able to celebrate Christmas 2007 there. Either way, it will eventually get done. That’s all I’m asking for.

In order for today’s concrete pour to go well, we must have no rain today. At least not until after 1:00. Need I remind you that we live in Seattle? So please say a little prayer for NO RAIN.

Okay, not that that’s out of the way.

Does anyone have obsessions like I do?

Maybe obsession isn’t the right word. Maybe addiction is more like it.

What I’m trying to say is that I love Subway. Heck, I even love Jared and his new skinny self.

My love affair with Subway started years ago with a simple 6″ sub in the park. I wasn’t too impressed with the sandwich. I was more impressed with the fact that it wasn’t a steaming pile of meat.

Eventually I found my fave. A 6″ Veggie on wheat. It was delicious and healthy. And something like $2.50, which is the perfect price for a starving college student. It has the right amount of pickles and low fat mayo. (I also have a long standing love affair with pickles. Let’s save that one for another day.)

As the years have gone by, Subway has upped the ante. And I like. They’ve added spinach and cucumbers. They have fancy breads like “oats and honey” and “crack and a cube of butter” which all taste so good when toasted in their new toaster ovens. They have breakfast sandwiches and kid’s meals. They even have toys in their kid’s meals.

My obsession may have waned a time or two. But I always come back. Especially when I figured out that my lovely 6″ Veggie was only 4 Weight Watcher points. (Of course you can’t have cheese with that. But still so yummy!)

I love the new Daily Specials. Hooray, a meatier sandwich for $2.49. Monday and Wednesdays are my favorite. Especially if you get them toasted and with a little pepper jack cheese. Friday’s are my least favorite (but my Boss’ favorite, so we still go).

I especially loved their rewards program. You remember it, right? You would get a sticker for every sandwich you bought. 6 stickers would earn you a FREE 6″. It would take like 2 days to qualify for a free one.

Last year they came up with a new and improved rewards program. You now had a fancy card to use to keep track of your points. It was slick. It had pictures on it and pretty colors. I initially was sucked in.

Until I learned how it worked. And I hated it. Gone were the days of free sandwiches. With this new program I was going to be lucky to get anything free in the next three years. And this was with me pawning my card out to my co workers to get their points. And eating there more times a week then I care to admit.

Last night we went to Subway with some friends and their kids. I decided to use my rewards card that I’ve been hoarding since I first got it. You know what we got with all of the points I had earned? Four bags of chips!

Four lousy bags of chips that would have cost us about $4.00. If we would have just bought them. I woke up last night and felt a little sick that I had wasted my hard earned Subway points on a couple puffed up bags of Baked Lays.

Damn me for being nice and saying last night, “Hey, let me get the chips with my card”.