Yes, I know

Britney had her hellspawn. Ahead of me. With her Versace baby wardrobe and everything. Matt called just to make sure I knew, around 6 yesterday, predicting labor for me by midnight. Ha! I showed him! My kid is gonna make its own entrance! And not even grow up to live in a van down by the river! So there, Britney. Try and steal my thunder, will ya? At least I have a handsome husband with an actual job. And no man-capris or scraggly chin-stubble. No spare illegitimate chillen either. Suck it, Britney. Heh. Maybe I'm a bit too hostile to give birth right now. (Or perhaps that's a clear sign I'm on my way.)