So I’ve been pretty lax about keeping this updated on my egg-news.  As my next retrieval is happening on Tuesday, it got a little too late to try to write 5 new blog posts about all the interesting stuff that’s been happening.  Ultimately though, I know you people probably don’t care about that.  But what you do care about is….


That’s right.   Since it was so popular last time, we’re bringing you more betting, more hand-knit prizes, and more pictures of the Banzai guy’s face.

In your face.

Our winner last time was Jon K., who immediately requested the knit version of my uterus, except in hat form.  He specifically wanted the fallopian tubes to be reaching down to tickle his ears.  Did I ever manage to find time in my busy schedule of acting, modeling, egging, and video gaming to make such a hat?  Of course I did!"Everyone should have a uterus.  Anything else would be uncivilized." -- Jon K.

“Everyone should have a uterus.  Anything else would be uncivilized.” — Jon K.

Now why in God’s name would you want to miss out on winning something like that?

Just like last time, Price is Right rules apply. To help you out, here are a few clues:

–Eggs produced per cycle: #1: 18 eggs; #2: 17 eggs; #3: 49 eggs, #4: 53 eggs
–I’m on an entirely different stimulation medication, though with similar doses
–In a baffling display of self-control, I’ve only eaten ONE McGriddle this entire cycle.
–Once again, the doctors are attempting to reign in the all-consuming, egg-producing beasts that are my ovaries, and they would ideally like to get fewer eggs than my last cycle.
–The night that I started my medication, I had a dream that Charo and I were on a mission to blow up the IRS building.

You’ve got the rules, the clues, and the power.  PLACE BETS NOW!!

Bets Thus Far
Erik N: 39
Trevor P: 28
Paul S: 77 (high roller!)
April CH: 41
Ben D: 68
Paige E: 42
Brittainy B: 45
Joe K: 52
Brad K: 65
Christine C: 20
Steve E: 37
Ben B: 40


I’m gonna see if I can crank out this blog post before the narcotic painkiller I just popped kicks in.  READY! GO!

I am very pleased to announce that Jon K is the lucky winner!  They retrieved a whopping 53 eggs!  That’s right, people.  I will beat personal records for human caviar production any day of the week.  My thanks to everyone who decided to play. Under the influence of my anesthesia cocktail, I apparently told my nurse about the betting pool like three or four times.  She was fortunately quite patient with me.

Anyway, Jon has quite vehemently insisted that I make the knit uterus into a hat, which should be easy to do with a few tweaks to the pattern.  My only request is that he sends some pictures of himself adorned with said hat.

Next post will probably be a while from now, once I find out more details about being shipped off to Arizona.  Until then…

Happy Egg Harvest Day!


I am a genius when it comes to making eggs.

Seriously.  All the doctors at the fertility clinic are impressed.  For this cycle they’ve been consistently reducing my stimulation medication, seemingly to no avail, as my ovaries are hell bent on pumping out follicles at a mean rate.  I’m on the lowest dosage of stim meds of all my cycles but still producing more follicles than before. If human ova were a viable food source, I could probably turn things around for Somalia.  I wish they gave out awards for such things.

Anyway, it’s the same story you’ve all heard before.  My ovaries are Hutt-sized, I’ve taken my trigger shot, and my retrieval is on schedule for Tuesday morning.  However, to make things interesting, I’m taking bets on how many eggs they’ll get out of me this time.

Relevant information so you can make informed gambling choices :
–Eggs produced per cycle: #1: 18 eggs; #2: 17 eggs; #3: 49 eggs
–I’m on the same type of medication as Cycle 3, however at a lower dosage
–I seem to be producing more follicles than Cycle 3
–I’ve eaten way more McGriddles during this cycle than any previous one

What’s the prize for a correct guess, you ask?  I’m not sure yet.  Whatever’s in my spare change jar?  A McGriddle? A hand-knit reproduction of my uterus?  Maybe all three at once!

So what are you waiting for?  *Banzai Guy’s Voice* PLACE BETS NOW!

Some people likened Banzai to an Asian minstrel show. Those people were not invited to our Banzai Drinking Game nights.

Bets Thus Far
Tyler E: 34
Erik N: 32
Trevor P: 56
Jason W: 44
Steve E: 42
Joe K: 29 (O ye of little faith.)
Sean O: 37
Tamra M: 58
David G: 59 (He can feel it.)
Jon K: 52
Rebecca S: 43
Paul S: 38
Esther H: 36
Lee P:50

It’s been months, my friends!  Much has happened both in my personal life and my reproduction-for-profit life!

I’ve had a nice, long break since my last cycle.  I’ve been doing photo shoots, auditioning, and I even got to take a trip to Maui, where I consumed more mai tais than you can shake a stick at.  Yesterday, I celebrated one whole year living in L.A.!  All in all, my body, mind, and spirit have had a good few months to recharge before getting down to business with my next cycles.

My next cycle, which will be my fourth, is with the same clinic that I worked with last time.  I think the couple is from Europe and will be flying to LA for the procedure.  I really wish that they would fork up the money to fly me over there instead, but oh well.  Currently I’m bogged down in getting legal all cleared so that I can start drugs within the next two weeks or so.

Today, I got confirmation on a match for a fifth cycle.  I’ll be getting to travel for this one…to Arizona!  I’m excited for a paid mini-vacation to Arizona, which Google Image Search tells me is the land of….cacti!

1000 Needles Attack!


I like to pinch.

Racial profiling!

Wheemp whomp.


Hope you packed your red tent.

I can’t wait!

5:09 Alarm goes off.  Hit the snooze button.
5:18 Alarm goes off again.  Pull myself up and out of bed.
5:19 Wash face, brush teeth, brush hair.
5:25 Pack up purse.  Make sure Ty is waking up too.
5:28 Change from slept-in PJs to not-slept-in PJs.
5:31 Check weather, email, facebook.
5:35 Sort and pack up unused medication.
5:40 Pop on my glasses and my WoW beanie and head out the door.
5:43 Depart for clinic.
6:11 Arrive at clinic.
6:14 Whisked away to surgery prep.  Put on the gown and stuff my hair into the stupid hat.
6:20 Get tucked into a nice warm bed.  The nurse goes over consent forms and more details of the procedure.
6:35 The nurse puts my IV in and takes off.
6:40 I start playing some Picross 3D (it kind of rules my world these days).
6:50 A nurse with a southern twang comes in and introduces herself as “Dusty.”  I explain the backstory to my right ovary sharing the same name.  She’s only mildly intrigued.
7:07 The anesthesiologist comes in to ask a few questions.  He pats my knee (yesssss).  He looks exactly like Ira Glass. I want to snuggle up to him so he can tell me quaint, slice-of-life bedtime stories in his youthful timbre.
7:15 They start rolling me into the OR.  Ira Glass administers some sort of relaxing medication.  He asks me if I feel it yet, and I say I don’t.
7:17 I’m transferred onto the operating table.  And I am feeling those drugs.
7:20 Each of my limbs has a nurse attached to it, going about some sort of important prep.  Ira Glass asks me where I’m from and a few other questions, but I’m too busy trying to keep my eyes in focus.
??:?? I’ve been contacted by the parents of a jr. high student that I used to tutor.  They want to hire me again.  She’s now 16 and slowly turning into a zombie.  She and her parents live in an underwater palace.  I’m swimming around trying to find her.
??:?? I’m visiting my sister.  She explains to me that a PE teacher we shared in high school recently passed away.  I’m holding my niece, Lily, and I ask her what her opinion is.  She giggles.
??:?? I’m having awesome sex.  Mind-blowing.  Earth-shattering.
??:?? The nurse is trying to wake me up.  I don’t want to stop dream sexing.
??:?? The nurse finally succeeds.  I immediately forget what was even actually happening in the sex dream.  But I don’t care, because I have enough happy drugs in me to satisfy Keith Richards.
??:?? Nurses check in on me.  I tell everyone that I am doing just GREAT.  I tell Ira that I’m feeling a little goofy, but still GREAT.
??:?? I eat about 7 packages of saltine crackers and chug gatorade like it’s going out of style.
8:?? The drugs are starting to wear off.   The nurse puts a fresh hot pack on my abdomen, checks to make sure that I’m not bleeding to death, then administers some Darvocet.
8:?? The Darvocet kicks in, and I’m high as a kite again.  She tells me that they retrieved 49 eggs.  A new record for me!  Like everything that’s been said to me in the past half hour or so, it makes me incredibly gleeful.
8:?? I wake up after a short nap.  Still feeling goofy, but much more awake and alert.
8:50: The nurse gets me up and escorts me and my IV to the bathroom.
8:52: I stand patiently while she pulls off all the tape keeping my IV in.  Once it’s extracted, she tells me I can get dressed.  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?  No dizziness or anything?”
I say, “Oh yeah, I’m feeling totally fi–” and promptly pass out.
9:00 I wake up moments later.  The nurse is half-dragging me back to the bed.
9:02 I’m tucked back into bed and hooked up to a bunch of monitors again.
9:05 At the nurse’s request, I babble at her for a while to show I’m doing okay.
9:15 I get up again, and this time I can successfully dress myself without taking a header.
9:20 I’m wheeled out to the lobby, where Tyler is dead asleep.  My escort wakes him up, and we make our way down to the car.
9:35 We chow down on some delicious sandwiches.
10:00 We depart for home.

The rest is too boring to extrapolate.  I’ve pretty much just been sleeping since then.  I’ve been feeling way better than I did after Cycle #2, which is awesome.  My actual instructions for the next few days are to wear comfortable clothing and be a couch potato.  I think I can handle that.

So what’s next?  There are two different couples interested in maybe booking me for a next cycle.  One pair is located here and one is located in New York City.  Obviously, I’m crossing my fingers that the NYC couple will take the plunge, because I wanna go!  I’ll be sure to post as soon as any details come my way.  Until then, Happy Egg Harvest Day!

I would so be on the "Infertility" episode of This American Life.

I’ve been at the clinic for ultrasounds and blood work for the past three mornings in a row.  My estrogen levels apparently spiked higher than they ever have in any of my previous cycles, so the clinic is keeping a close eye on me.  My estrogen and estrodial levels are being closely monitored, and they’re slowly reducing my dosage of Follistim to prevent me from going into hyperstimulation.

Believe me, I am feeling those higher estrogen levels.  I’m cranky, bloated, nauseated, and tired of carrying around these two distended, alien creatures the doctors are calling my ovaries.  Seriously.  When I went in for my last ultrasound, the doctor actually gave an audible “Whoa!” as soon as they came up on the screen.

I’ve put on my requisite 5 fertility pounds, but I feel much, much larger than that.  Ty says I still look good, but I snapped a photo of the two of us, so you guys can be the judge:

His decision to grow out a sweet 'stache hasn't helped matters.

I actually had a runway gig last night.  Considering the way I felt (see above picture), I wasn’t all that psyched about doing it.  I showed up early and started changing into my first and, thankfully, only outfit.

The skirt wouldn’t zip up.

I cursed as I realized that I had been fitted for this far before I’d ever gone on the drugs.  It wasn’t exactly roomy back then either. When it came to this skirt, apparently 5 extra pounds made quite the difference.  I was about ready to shoot myself in the face when one of the designers came around the corner and saw me struggling.

“Oh no,” he said. “You are NOT telling me it’s too small now.”

I was preparing to vomit out a healthy pile of excuses and explanations, but he simply reached around, fixed the tangled fabric, zipped it up with no trouble, and ran off to fix some disasters elsewhere.

The show ended up going down with only minor hitches, and I was allowed to take off as soon as my set was over.  Unfortunately the end of my set coincided with when I had to do my injections.  I retreated to the changing room, which was like Grand Central Station at that moment, but it was the only place I had.  I laid out all of my many syringes and vials and tried to ignore all the odd looks I was getting.  One girl finally came up to me and peered over my shoulder.

“So, is this for like…? Are you like diabetic or….?”

I was about to tell her that I was an egg donor, but I knew that I was in no mood to answer the 500 questions that would follow.

“Oh, no.  This is just a part of my weight-loss plan.  I’ve already lost 17 pounds in two days!” I stabbed the Lupron syringe into my stomach for emphasis.

I was met with a look of both disgust and genuine, perhaps even jealous curiosity.  Thankfully, she just slowly nodded and walked away without asking any questions, as I hadn’t really planned the charade that far.

Aside from being cranky and pulling the legs of total strangers, I am pleased to announce that my retrieval is all on schedule for Tuesday morning.  I’ll be taking my trigger shot tonight at 8:30, and it’ll all be downhill from there!  Until Tuesday!

PS — Operation Jack Off Room Investigation was a success.  The drawers were stacked with messy piles of smut mags.  I was expecting and maybe even hoping for a neatly cataloged and extensive library of naughty DVDs, but I only saw one unmarked DVD tucked under some Hustlers.  Whatever. Porn is porn.