Feeling Guilty

For putting a pair of pants on my kid’s head and pretending she was a Native American Chief. What else are we going to do in the afternoon?

Feeling Guilty

For abusively and obnoxiously wrapping pasta around my dog’s snout and posting pictures of it on my website.

Feeling Guilty

For causing the baby to smell like my saliva because I CAN‘T STOP SUCKING ON HER FACE.

Feeling Guilty

For sneaking sips of the Children’s Motrin. It tastes like Sunkist!

Feeling Guilty

For being completely and utterly OBSESSED with sticking my finger up my child’s nose.

Feeling Guilty

For blaming my farts on the baby. You knew this was bound to happen.

Feeling Guilty

For fulfilling my father’s worst nightmare by growing up and becoming a Democrat.

Feeling Guilty

For putting my baby’s diaper on backwards in the middle of the night and being too tired to fix it.

Feeling Guilty

For forcing my daughter to watch CSPAN.

Feeling Guilty

For pretending that my breast pad was a yarmulke and that my dog was Jewish.

Feeling Guilty

For eating asparagus just to see what it would do to my baby’s diapers. Well I certainly found out!

Feeling Guilty

For continuing to gobble up my baby’s chubby neck when the screaming and the flailing of the arms indicates that she no longer enjoys the gobbling up of the chubby neck.

Feeling Guilty

For dropping a bagel — cream cheese side down — on my baby’s head as she lay there attached to my breast.

Feeling Guilty

For having any idea about what is going on in the lives of the characters on “Days of Our Lives.”

Feeling Guilty

For farting in front of my OBGYN.

Feeling Guilty

For being scared shitless of Howard Dean’s upper lip.

Feeling Guilty

For wanting to bathe in bacon grease.

Feeling Guilty

For hoping that this baby doesn’t decide to make her entrance into the world during the season premiere of “Survivor.” She needs to get her priorities straight early.

Feeling Guilty

For feeding my dog Pop Rocks.

Feeling Guilty

For mistaking a gigantic grape jelly stain on my belly for a gigantic stretch mark, TWICE in one afternoon.

Feeling Guilty

For telling my five year old nephew that Santa Claus is a fundamentalist Islamic terrorist.

Feeling Guilty

For willingly participating in Chocogasm 2003: chocolate brownie, chocolate pudding, peanut M&M’s. All in one bowl. Eaten in less than three minutes, after 11pm.

Feeling Guilty

For buying a vacuum sealed package of underwear at Costco.

Feeling Guilty

For successfully convincing several of the more gullible members of my family that we plan on naming our baby girl Larry.

Feeling Guilty

For the pan of brownies, the plate of chocolate chip cookies, and the pound of banana pudding I thought it necessary to cook in one night.

Feeling Guilty

For thinking impure thoughts when I first saw the packaging for these portable puddings.

Feeling Guilty

For laughing uncontrollably when the 80 lb dog gets stuck underneath the bed, for the sixth time in two hours.

Feeling Guilty

For responding, “What baby?” when that woman looked at my tummy and asked when the baby was due, and secretly relishing her mortified stupor as she apologized and tried to disappear.

Feeling Guilty

For the level of panic I experienced when I thought for a few seconds that the TiVo hadn’t recorded last week’s episode of “Temptation Island.”

Feeling Guilty

For blaming Little Debbie for my 10 pounds in 4 weeks weight gain, that fucking bitch.

Feeling Guilty

For taking the Miss Teen USA pageant so seriously.

Feeling Guilty

For wrapping spaghetti around my dog’s snout just so that I can watch him try to get it off by wrinkling up his nose and baring his gums. It’s hours of entertainment.

Feeling Guilty

For doing a Google search on “fat Christina Aguilera” and posting a link to this site. I am a terrible, terrible person.

Feeling Guilty

For being only 14 weeks into this pregnancy and already being able to out-eat my 6’3” tall husband by about 4,000 calories per day.

Feeling Guilty

For referring to the baby in my womb as my “deliverable.”

Feeling Guilty

For eating that much sauerkraut and then expecting my husband to sleep in the same bed as me.

Feeling Guilty

For verbally abusing the Nacho Cheeze Doritos, when secretly and passionately I love the Nacho Cheese Doritos.

Feeling Guilty

For sticking masking tape on all four of my dog’s feet and laughing as he flailed his legs in horror. I feel so bad that I’m only going to do it a couple more times so that I can get it on video.

Feeling Guilty

For blaming my husband’s sperm on the fact that I’m so sick I can’t eat bologna. HE DID THIS TO ME!

Feeling Guilty

For telling my 10-yr old niece that if she didn’t do what I told her to do then a tornado would come and take her away. I’m obviously going to be a great mom.

Feeling Guilty

For forsaking The Lord And Savior Jesus Christ and worshipping at the alter of The Great Vlasic Pickle God.

Feeling Guilty

For rationalizing that if I’m eating for two now, why not eat for TWELVE?

Feeling Guilty

For getting into my car and driving to the grocery store just to buy a box of cake batter.

Feeling Guilty

For introducing peanut butter and banana sandwiches into my marriage.

Feeling Guilty

For being this excited about the Miss Universe pageant.

Feeling Guilty

For adding that extra stick of butter to the mashed potatoes. Well, to be totally honest, for adding two extra sticks of butter and an entire tub of cream. And that cup of whole milk.

Feeling Guilty

For even changing the channel to UPN, let alone watching a whole hour.

Feeling Guilty

For jumping to all sorts of conclusions when I really should just be jumping on a trampoline.

Feeling Guilty

For setting a Tivo Season Pass for “Access Hollywood” and loving EVERY SINGLE SECOND of it.

Feeling Guilty

For telling that dog owner that if he wasn’t going to do it, then I was going to strap his dog down and wrap a rubber band around its balls. Dogs should be fixed, yes, but I need to learn some restraint.

Feeling Guilty

For becoming the type of person who finds herself reading weblogs on a laptop while sitting on the toilet.

Feeling Guilty

For telling that 4-yr old boy at the playground that he was being a total fucking turd. Well, he was.

Feeling Guilty

For watching Operation Dumbo Drop instead of painting the back room.

Feeling Guilty

For wasting water by warshing things that don’t need to be warshed. It’s just, the new warshing machine is so pretty.

Feeling Guilty

For stealing the soap out of Granny’s bathroom. I am gonna have one PISSED Granny.

Feeling Guilty

For painting my dog’s tail…on purpose.

Feeling Guilty

For wanting a copy of the Justin Timberlake album.

Feeling Guilty

For acting like I don’t know what happened to the bologna, when just an hour ago I ate the entire package of bologna.

Feeling Guilty

For feeding the dog bacon on his strictly no-bacon diet.

Feeling Guilty

For blaming my farts on the dog. He’s probably farting anyway.

Feeling Guilty

For telling the 8-yr old girls next door that the reason I don’t go to church is because I don’t agree with the fact that Mormons eat people in the temple.

Feeling Guilty

For knowing that both the twin nephews had poopy diapers and waiting two hours until my sister got home so that she could take care of it.

Feeling Guilty

For scratching my butt in front of Granny. She won’t remember in 10 minutes anyway.

Feeling Guilty

For opening that email spam with the subject line: “Your Feet Stink :p” I really shouldn’t take things so personally.

Feeling Guilty

For taking “Real World: Las Vegas” way too seriously.

Feeling Guilty

For using the words “dry-hump” in association with Granny.

Feeling Guilty

For thinking that what my 5-yr old nephew really needs is a gigantic strip of duct tape wrapped around his entire head.

Feeling Guilty

For making up excuses not to floss, including the one where I tell myself that gingivitis is just a myth made up by the government so that we’ll be scared and support the war.

Feeling Guilty

For secretly adding canned Taco Bell Chili Cheese Dip to that new diet I’m trying.

Feeling Guilty

For not turning to p. 118 to get that Seriously Sculpted Butt!

Feeling Guilty

For putting Powder Fresh Lady Speed Stick on my dog’s stinky feet.

Feeling Guilty

For wearing the same pair of pants 10 days in a row. I wonder how long I can go.

Feeling Guilty

For forcing my puppy to listen to emo.

Feeling Guilty

For not leaving the house in over 78 hours, except to poop and pee.

Feeling Guilty

For seriously considering naming my children after characters from The Dukes of Hazzard.

Feeling Guilty

For belching in front of my future in-laws.

Feeling Guilty

For wearing the same red shirt four days in a row. Tomorrow will be five.

Feeling Guilty

For sleeping in until 3pm. Actually, I don't feel guilty. I feel rested.

Feeling Guilty

For downloading the entire new Kylie Minogue album and loving every single second of it.

Feeling Guilty

For leaning out my window and telling that cat to shut up already.

Feeling Guilty

For telling that telemarketer to bite my fucking uninterested ass.

Feeling Guilty

For listening, very closely, to the neighbors fight.

Feeling Guilty

For siding with the man in this morning's episode of Divorce Court.

Feeling Guilty

For eating a cookie in bed. Well, to be totally honest, for eating 12 cookies in bed.

Feeling Guilty

For watching three straight hours of "I Love Lucy".

Feeling Guilty

For organizing my closet by color and fabric. That's just so not punk rock.

Feeling Guilty

For all those years that I stuffed my bra and lied about it.

Feeling Guilty

For finishing off a fifth of Bacardi. In three hours.

Feeling Guilty

For sleeping until 11:30am. I have got to get over this.

Feeling Guilty

For torturing the Asian database administrator so mercilessly. I will truly miss him.

Feeling Guilty

For wishing that those perky Canadian ice skaters would just go away already.

Feeling Guilty

For thinking that his baby is just uglier than sin.

Feeling Guilty

For not remembering which dead president I'm supposed to celebrate. There are just so many.

Feeling Guilty

For wishing that Bob Costas would just, like, die.

Feeling Guilty

For scratching my ass in the elevator. No one else knows about it, but I know about it.

Feeling Guilty

For not kicking that Mormon in the shins when I had the chance.

Feeling Guilty

For justifying that sixth cocktail.

Feeling Guilty

About burping out loud in that strategy meeting.

Feeling Guilty

For doing those jello shots. I'm an adult, for crying out loud.

Feeling Guilty

For eating an entire box of Kellogg's new Winnie the Pooh cereal in less than one day.

Feeling Guilty

For running over and killing that bird with my car. Why couldn't you have been a cat?

Feeling Guilty

For saying, yes, I'll get it done when I have no intention of getting it done.

Feeling Guilty

About sticking my tongue out at that dog behind its owner's back.