So Many Shoes, and Just One Wedding.

So you can thank Molly over at These Little Moments for the following post.

She posted about looking for her wedding shoes, and it inspired me. So Many Shoes, and Just One Wedding is the tag line at Bellissima Bridal Shoes. And boy, they aren't kidding! I fell in love with several, over a dozen. And I'm sure I'll add more as time goes on. Here's the thing though, I have Polish ankles, so they are not slim. I'm not saying I have cankles, because that's not the case, they're just not supper slim so the whole danity ankle strap just isn't gonna get it for me. I know a slide probably won't work because like I said before, I plan on being medicated. So I think my shoes should somehow be strapped to my feet. Also, I have issue with my baby toe being mashed between straps, so you'll notice there aren't any strappy sandals. Some of these just aren't fancy enough for me, but others are. Who know there'd be so many telling things about a person and her bridal shoes? I want fancy, but comfortable, I want sexy but wearable. So many factors to consider!

Granted the following examples of my obession aren't all properly in-line with a sling back with less than a 3 inch heel, but a girl can always dream, right?

Let me know what you think people!

1)

2)3)4)5)6)7)8)9)10)11)12)13)

14)

15)

If I ever......

I'm sure we've all played this "game" before. You see something heinous or some really bad behavior exhibited by someone else and you turn to your friend,family member, significant other and say, "If I ever XYZ......smack me."
Here have been a few of mine to F in last few months:

1. If I ever get that fat, smack me. But you know, do it nice a way, don't mean be about it. Said after seeing a trio of young girls who were really extremely over weight. I'm no lightweight myself, but even I was disgusted.
2. If I ever wear an outfit that is too young/old/tight, smack me. Uttered during Church about another member whose dress was so tight, the buttons were straining to stay on. Also about the same member a week later who was wearing a bare backed halter top to Service. She's really too old for that and it's completely inappropriate for Service.
3. If I ever go grocery shopping dressed like her, smack me. Look at her, those heels are so high she can't even push her cart. Sneered about a woman who was shopping at Costco with her young impressionable daughter wearing a very low cut, snug tight shirt with an extremely good push-up bra, tight skinny fit jeans and strappy gold heels. And I know I wasn't the only woman making comments or staring either. That poor daughter, what image issues she'll have.

Or how about If YOU ever? I've bet you've all played this one too:

1. If YOU ever cheat on me, I'll make you hurt in ways you never thought possible. I never said I wasn't a little psycho.
2. If YOU ever hit me, you'll be someone else's bitch(in prison). Told to F while relaying my mom's advice about how she threatened my father that she'd leave him, with 3 little kids, if he ever laid a hand on her. Not to say he was violent. They psycho had to come from somewhere. (sorry mom.)

Anyone else? What have you said: "If I/You ever......smack me"?

Things People Need to Understand

1. You are my Co-Worker, not my Boss, so back the hell up off me!


2. We work in cube land, so Yes, I can hear your every bitchy double standard words about every one's too loud cell phone ringing, but never anything about your own stupid Nextel.


3. You are not the only person I do stuff for, so stop acting like you are the one and only, and wait your turn like everyone else.


4. Stop listening in on my conversations and then making comments for which you were not ask for.


5. Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean you can act like my mother. I have one, and she is much better than you.


6. If you're not going to invite me to lunch, don't whine when I don't invite You to lunch.


7. If you are sick, stay the hell home! We don't want to listen to you hacking up a lung. Just because you are bored at home does not give you the right to come to work and infest the office with germs.


8. It's extremely rude to invite yourself to my wedding. I was going to invite you anyway, but you shouldn't assume I won't cut you in order to invite, um, MY FAMILY.
9. I am poor. I am planning a wedding. So when I tell you I can't afford to put in for the Boss's Christmas present, don't look at me and say, " Not even $4?" Especially after I also just told you I'm not buying MY OWN FAMILY presents for Christmas this year.
10. You have an office door, shut it. I don't need to hear you ordering your hemorrhoid cream or berating someone over the phone.

Tastes Like......?

F and I did our "Tasting" for the wedding reception food. I can't say I thought it was outstanding, but it was good and as I was sucking the meat off the bone(OK! the old fashioned fried chicken WAS really good.) my mom looks at me and says, "Well you know you're not going to eat that day anyway, you'll be too nervous." She seems to keep forgetting that I plan to be MEDICATED al a Pretty in Pink for at least the entire week before the wedding. I'm totally serious about this. We have people coming in from ALL over God's Green Earth for this wedding. F's side is coming in from the Homeland and all the various other countries they've scattered to. I have a bride's maid coming in from the UK and 2 are coming from out of state. All of F's groom's men are from out of state except for my brother. All of these people need to be here at least 2 days before the wedding. And be housed. My maids' of honor(yes, I'm having 2) said they'd come a full WEEK before the wedding to keep me sane. Which, deep down, I think might actually do the opposite, but hey, who knows. It may be all party all the time. So with me being stressed out, eating? Well, I'm a stress eater, so I don't see me NOT eating. I mean seriously, every time we go to Costco I eye their ready made food and think, um yeah, we'll be picking up those chicken wraps for the wedding party for before the wedding. I've seen brides who don't eat before the wedding, usually they end up taking a header somewhere along the line. I do not want this to be me. Plus, if I wait too long to eat I get cranky with a splitting headache and I can't process info properly.

Priest: "Do you take this man?"

Hungry me: "Yes, I'll have HAM!"

Not pretty.

Things I Hate.....

Things I Hate.....About being 30-something

1. I'm no longer 20-something


2. Sleeping until noon is no longer allowed or even possible. I seem to be slipping into that old people habit of getting up earlier and earlier as I get older. My mother? She gets up at like 5am, and actually DOES stuff.


3. Physical aliments no longer go away within a few days, they linger.


4. I've had physical issues that required surgery to correct. And just to warn you, a gall bladder is actually a good thing, not a useless thing. Not to go into detail here but with gall bladder pizza or fried food=non-issue. Non-gall bladder=quick stepped trip to the bathroom. Just sayin.


5. My absolute horror at the possibility that I may no longer be able to handle wearing heels, of any kind. 2 yrs ago I very badly sprained my ankle, I had to go to rehab(side note here, every time I hear the word rehab I think of that song by Amy Winehouse and I always hear the word rehab like how she sings it in the song followed by the "no,no,no.") Anyway, almost a year to the day later I sprained it again. It seemed to heal fine this time, but now, as I try to wear my favoritest boots, I end the day limping and dying to remove my favoritest boots to get relief. My ankle is swollen and stiff and my knee is all jacked up too. And it's not just the boots, it's any heel, and apparently any height heel as well. Seriously, I just got into heels at the age of 25, this is so not cool.


6. My gray hair is spreading across my head. Yes, I've had it since I was in my 20's, it was kind of a cute thing then. Now? Now it's just kind of Telling, you know what I mean? Hair maintenance isn't just because I like highlights, it's now NECESSARY maintenance.
7. Going out means having to drive home which means a drinking limit. That is probably a good thing, because I just can't handle the adult beverages like I used to. Plus, when add to #2, hangovers are real extra bitchy.

What the Hell?

Things that I just don't understand:

• On the way home the other day, a full sized pick-up truck with CAMOUFLAGED SEAT covers. Because the poor animals can see and smell the truck, but the inside is lost in a swirl of camo. Sneaky humans!
• Why gas is $2.89 on the way to work, but is $2.85 a mere 8 hours later. I propose that we apply the same theory they have at department stores, if it goes on sale within the next 30 days, I get a refund for the difference. Ok, maybe make it 12 hrs, but you get my meaning.
• Why if I order french fries through the drive-thru I have ASK for ketchup. It's not like we are in England and people use vinegar or ketchup. Just give me the damned ketchup.
• Why if you Super Size your meal you try to fool yourself by still ordering a Diet. Yeah, that's a life saver.
• Why you don't pull the fuck over when you see the flashing lights of a ambulance, police or fire vehicle. We all know you are the same people who will sue the city because said rescue vehicle took too long to reach your sorry ass if you were the one waiting to be saved.
• Why people wait until the VERY LAST second to pull out of the merge lane into regular traffic, doing, of course, LESS than the posted speed limit. Or wait until the VERY LAST INCH to merge when 4 miles back the bright orange construction sign told you the lane would be ending, in 4 miles. So the rest of us have to STOP because some lame brain decided to let you in.
• Why don't people don't wash their hands after using the bathroom. SERIOUSLY, wash your damn HANDS!

Bridal Brain

Bridal Brain is very much the same as Pregnant Brain, as in you can't remember anything, the simplest tasks become overly tasking, and your emotions are over the top and flipping out. I am experiencing this enmass. See here, here, here, here, and finally, here. Looking at that line-up there, is making me a little crazy. Anyway, I can't remember shit. 5 days in a row I've forgotten to bring a box of Kleenex to work, and I've been suffering from allergies for like a month and ran out of Kleenex like 2 weeks ago. So really, I should be totally motivated to remember a box of stinking Kleenex in the morning. I've taken a box and set it out somewhere I would see it and remember to grab it, um, yeah.

I went looking at invitation this weekend with my mom, and I almost cried in the store over a little saying about God and marriage or something, obviously since I'm telling you exactly what it said, it really hit home. Not. And I'm not even that religious, really. As I read the multitude of sayings to pick from, I got misty on so many occasions; I had to get a water to rehydrate. Now I've never considered myself a crier, but dang if the water works haven't just been always ready at a moment's notice lately. I've also never really considered myself a lacey and poufy kinda a girl either, and I'm glad to say after spending 2 hrs looking at invites, that that still holds true, however, I did find that I'm not all hip and contemporary either. When a co-worker brought in an invite to show me, I fell in love with a certain enclosure , but when I went to look at it again, I found that it just didn't cut it for me anymore. I want the parchment paper with aged edges and raised print type. Who knew? But no doves, or Cali lilies or ribbon or any of that crap. Just nice and simple and straight to the point.

Speaking of crap. F and I went to a Bridal Show this weekend. O.M.G. I felt like we were all cattle in the shute on our way to be slaughtered. I filled out so many cards with my wedding date, name, address, e-mail and phone number that I started forgetting who I was. DJ, limos, cakes, sexy bachelorette party ideas, photographers, vacations; I signed up for free stuff, to win stuff to get more junk mail stuff. After filling out about twenty of these (this was early in the game, but not early enough) F says to me, We should have brought those return address labels and stuck those on here. So there's a tip to all of you who think you HAVE TO GO (really, you don't) to a Bridal show, save your fingers, bring a sticker. I feel even more overwhelmed then I did before we went. Although F was a total trooper carrying the bags and crap, not free crap, just brochure crap, for 2 hrs all over the massive cattle slaughter. And women, we do get bitchy and pushy over a bite size piece of cake, let me tell you. One of the booths was life insurance where F picked up a huge yard stick. But since F isn't always aware of his surroundings, he almost took out me, and several other people with said yard stick; I took it from him only to have to give it back so I didn't use it to beat back some cake line jumping bitches.



If anyone has ever gotten anything useful out of attending one of these things, please share, because the best part of the "Show" was how quickly we got out of the parking lot.

Cleaver?.....Cleaver?......Cleaver?

Where is June Cleaver when you need her? All prefect hair, pearls and pies? I am not, NOT June Cleaver, not Betty Crocker, I align more with Mr Jiffy Mix. I'm not saying I can't cook, I in fact CAN COOK, but ever since F has come into my life, I've become a bumbling fool in the kitchen. I over cook, I under cook, and last night, I set ablaze. Mind you, I never thought that I was the kind of woman who believed being a good cook was important in getting and keeping a man. If you don't like it, go make something else, that has been my motto. But with F? I'm all, Do you like it Ward? Would like like more pie Ward? Is it tender enough Ward? Would you like me to warm it up for you Ward? Can I feed you Ward? Ok, maybe not that last one, but you get my meaning. When it comes to cooking for F, I get all June-ish. I want it all to be wonderful so he can boast to his friends, "DH, she cooks a mean meal." As things are now? I think he's afraid to invite people over for dinner in case I give them all e-coli. I grabbed a few apples yesterday and decided I was going to make my man a homemade, with love, dessert. He was tired and hungry when he called with still an hour drive home ahead of him. I started scrounging in the freezer for something to cook and came across the steaks we stock piled back in July. Good sized, enough left over for lunch, PREFECT. Let's fast forward to me throwing said steaks onto the nice hot grill. I turned it down and headed back into the house to make my lovely dessert. I'm pealing away at the apples and think to myself, I should go check on the steaks. I look out the window to see smoke, lots and lots of black smoke. I run out the door, and see flames. I'm not talking the little flare-up flames, I'm talking full on, burn the garage down, blow-up the gas grill kind of flames. The ENTIRE INSIDE OF THE GRILL WAS ON FIRE. Those prefect steaks? CHARCOAL. It took a good 10mins for the flames to die down. The wooden brush used to clean the grill, burned. It was setting on the grille's side burner(not turned on). That's how far out of the grill the flames were reaching. When I told F, he said, "cool." When I showed him the steaks that were burned but still raw, "No big deal. don't worry about it." He ate the steak(after I nuked it), said he couldn't have burned them better himself, said they were good.

I didn't burn the dessert, which he loved.

But I did set the hot pad on fire getting it out of the oven.

Again? Really?

These whacked dreams had better stop after the wedding, or I will have to start living a Valley of the Dolls kinda lifestyle. And I've noticed, they all occur early in the morning, like shortly before the alarm goes off. It makes me tired, it makes me cranky and it makes me doubt my sanity. Dreams are meant to be your subconscious working through things you can't or won't face during the day. This one I just had? Oh, so totally. There is a back story here, I'll give you the highlights. About 5 years ago we got a new employee. Male. We hit it off, immediately. Problem? Oh, just a tad little issue of him being MARRIED. He's tall, handsome, funny as hell, sarcastic, older(but not like, fatherly) and horribly insightful. A deadly combo. Of course the more we hung out together, the more people talked. And I'll admit it, there were feelings there, on my side at least. I had a huge crush on him. But I knew he was married, and that was a line I was unwilling to cross. Anyway, last year we had a bit of a falling out. And we've not been nearly as chummy as we were before. We barely speak. We've tried to pick things back up, to be friendly again, but it's just not there anymore. Our dialogue always seems kinda forced. Which is probably good, considering F came into the picture shortly before all this went down. (side bar, F feels that my Co-Worker Crush had feelings for me, but that's a whole another Blog topic.) Ok, so back on Topic here, last night, or early this morning, I had a vivid dream involving CWC. He was in the kitchen at work, washing his dishes and I walked up, put my hand on his arm and started to say, "I'm so glad to see a man cleaning up after himself."(Kind of a joke between him and I, he always washes his own dishes at work) but before I could finish he whirls around and clutches me into a utterly suffocating bear hug. At first I'm embarrassed by this display, then I start to freak out because I literally CAN. NOT. BREATH. I fight my way out of his hug, my face red with the effort and the anger, and try to run off to my cube. He grabs my arm and pulls me back towards him and plants a VERY passionate kiss on me. At first, I was all, "FINALLY I get to experience his kiss". But then I became horrified. Angry that he would do something like that, I shove him off with great force and I think I may have called him an asshole, I'm not sure, things are cloudy after I remove myself from his lip-lock. What the hell? Seriously, WHAT. THE. HELL? As I type this, I'm kinda angry for letting it happen. For approaching him in the first place. Granted, it was just a dream, but what bothers me the most? I enjoyed his (dream) kiss, and felt relief at finally getting to experience. As fleeting as that feeling was, it still bothers me. Like maybe I shouldn't have had that feeling at all. I know that's what it is. I feel guilty about liking a dream kiss.

Damned Catholic upbringing.

If you Dream It, You Can...Do It???

So I had a rather disturbing dream this morning. I cheated on F. With a guy my college friend used as a booty call in college, and maybe even after. Handsome college football player with a heart of gold and a baby-momma. The point is, in the dream, I said, "I can't, I'm engaged!" But everyone kept telling to go ahead and do it. And even more disturbing, as I write this several hours later, I can't remember if I cheated on him or not! I think maybe I did, because my brain keeps telling me it was good, the cheating sex. Remember that episode of Friends where Phoebe is pissed off at Ross because of something he did in a dream? Yeah, it's like that. Am I a cheater because I may have cheated in a dream? And, well, kind of really liked it?
And I have done the same thing Phoebe has done, been pissed off at someone for something they did in a dream. I wake up really ticked off. It puts me in a pissy mood all day.

Poor F, he's marrying a crazy person.

Hearing Aid

In Church this weekend, F and I sat close to the back because, well, that's where we sit. Growing up, Church was a place of best behavior. No laughing, no talking after the services has already started, that kind of thing. Nowadays, expecting your child to sit quietly for an hour is apparently beyond a parent's control. I know I was taken out during the service to have my tush smack a few times before the lesson was driven home. I have some patients for children and their fidgeting. What I have NO TOLERANCE for is the Adults who talk throughout the service. To me, this is disrespectful beyond belief. Sitting behind us this particular time was a grandmother, her daughter and the daughter's 2 sons. Their loud whispers were annoying before the service started, but were downright unacceptable after the Church had been called to order. I overheard bits and pieces of their conversation through the hour. The mother and daughter: "whisper whisper whisper DIARRHEA (seriously? in church we're having this kind of conversation? F informed me he heard diarrhea of the mouth, but still people, COME ON!)whisper whisper AND THIS ONE DIDN'T HURT LIKE THE OTHER ONE("one" what I wondered?) WHEN I WOKE UP THIS MORNING whisper whisper whisper. And the sons: whisper whisper YOU'RE SICK whisper whisper LOOK AT HER, SHE'S whisper whisper whisper(ok, I've judged people's outfits etc in church, but I highly doubt 2 teenage boys were discussing the proper length of a mini -skirt) whisper whisper whisper. SHUT UP!!!! For GOD'S SAKE, SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU DISRESPECTFUL TWIT! That's what I wanted to scream at them. But I didn't, because I was raised right. I just showed my disgust by sighing loudly. Also, you know what people always say about a serial killer, "He was such a quiet boy, always so clean and tidy." Well I saw 2 future receivers of that comment in this same Church service. Pretty blond mom, good looking, although a tad uptight, dad have 2 blond haired boys. It was their outfits that made me shudder. The boys were dressed identically, and no, they weren't twins, in plaid button down shirts, blue dress short, white socks with black patten leather shoes. That combo, it just freaked me out. Something about the overtly tidy white socks and black shoes. Dad kept leaning over with his arm around the youngest shoulders, whispering in his ear. The kids just had that Children of Corn look about them and all I could think is they are going to be rapist when they grow up. A tag team of creepy brothers wrecking havoc on white bread suburbia. We need to stop going to that church.
On an equally "Things I don't need to hear" level, F and I had a yard sale to finance the remodel of our family room. People will tell you the most intimate details of their lives, holy goodness. An elderly couple visited our yard sale where the lady prattled on about the "lovely (1960 styled) pots and pans that would look so lovely on your table when you entertain." The men were discussing the computer so she and I went on to discuss some furniture we were selling, one of which was a bed. The elderly lady, 75 to be exact, turns to me and bitterly whispers, "After 47 years of marriage we have our own rooms. That's the way things end up. And I'll tell you another thing. He (she jerks her head towards her adorable little husband) had prostate surgery awhile ago and I'll tell you this, I went to the hospital with a husband,and I came home with a brother(she nearly spat). The doctors, oh they SAID everything would be fine after 3 months. THAT hasn't happen. I'm just telling you this, because people never tell you these things."

Um, yeah, there's a reason they don't tell you! T.M.I.!!!!!!

Magic 8 Ball Needed

I was relaying a story about F to a co-worker who, over the years I've come to rely on for great advice and insight. As usual with stories about F she shook her head and laughed. But then she said to me, "You know DH, it'll be like that for the rest of your life. The REST of your LIFE. It doesn't go up from here, it only goes down."

So, ah, are you saying I shouldn't marry F? I mean, seriously? She's been through divorce herself, and has been in a long term relationship with a man she seems to not really like, for years. And during many conversations, she can bring some serious Bitter, Party of One. So I don't know if she's trying to gently tell me I'm making a mistake, or if she's just all doom and gloom based on her past experiences. I have enough doubt on my own without someone whispering in my ear. Yes, F has his flaws, as do I. And God bless him for being able to put up with mine. It just really took me by surprise. Well, maybe not really. Often times I've felt like she's being hinting at F not being right for me. Shit. Am I over analysing this? And if I am, why am I? Does that mean something? Why can't I be all "LA LA LA I'm engaged, life is a fluffy cloud."????

I hate second guessing myself.

Irritated

In my family there is a monthly "Family Obligation" that we take turns doing. In the spirit of saving money for The Wedding, one of my siblings suggested that F and I bow out and save the money that would have been spent on the "Family Obligation" over the next year. My other siblings are not at all keen on this idea. The Eldest feels that, "It doesn't cost THAT much." Um, maybe not for You who doesn't present it with the same amount of care, yes. But for those of us who want everyone to feel as though there's plenty to go around, it does. The Second Oldest believes that if they have to do it, so does everyone else. The thing that hacks me off the most is that The Eldest makes well over 6 figures. The Second Oldest probably comes in a close second, with a high 5 figures. Both have been in tight financial situations were money had to be borrowed. And yet, here they are, devoid of all feelings when trying to help a sister(literally) out. F has little to say on the topic but is glad that I, as the Little Sister, has finally gotten the "balls" to stand up to the others. I haven't gotten enough though to completely flipped them off and tell them to take a flying leap with their forgotten shared money sorrows. I'm just pissed off enough though to tell them not to let the door hit them where the good lord split them if either of them complains about what is being put out at our go-around of the Family Obligation.





To top things off, F, after having met one of the sibling's friends who'd made a very expensive purchase on the way to a party, is now bemoaning where we are financially. He feels we should be able to travel and buy toys at whim as do "so many others". I fear, and rightly so, that F will insist on moving back East so that his Best Friend can show him the ins and outs of being a slum lord. Best Friend is a nice enough fellow, although he has tendency towards assiness. It is this assiness that I fear F may find to once again be a wondrous way of life thus letting Best Friend influence him in ways, I feel, have long ago been out grown. Best Friend has a great deal of influence on F as it is, from thousands of miles away. (Side note here, Best Friend is the one who had the amazing wedding back East only to have said marriage fall apart before he left to serve his country overseas.) (Extra side note: I am deathly afraid that Best Friend will bring one of his skanky new My Space loves to our wedding and recreate some of the seedy scenes from his wedding.) I know money is tight, and yes, I wish we could come and go as we please, but I'm not about to sit around and be depressed about it. Which is where I think F is headed. That, and back East, which is closer to the Family and THAT is so not where I want to be. Best Friend told F he wants him back East "At any cost." Me included apparently. Ok, maybe Best Friend isn't such a nice fellow.
Tell me people, how do you curb the influence someone has over someone else?

Am I Defective?

I've expressed to you in the past that I feel less than bridal because of my lack of knowledge on all things, girlie. Then I read Clink's post, Out Brided, and I have to say, as much as I like the girl and her cider drinking ways, she makes me feel completely inept as an educated female who's planning a wedding with an educated male. I have only a few of the things she has(Church and venue), and I was feeling pretty good about it. Not so much now. As for the friend she's speaking of, a hair appointment? For the wedding? In a few weeks? I'm still trying to decide if I'll let it grow out, or just opt for extension, let alone setting up an appointment for wedding hair!!! And honestly, I have YET to see an invite that I just have to have. Here is an exert from her posting:

I thought I was doing pretty well. If Bride-to-Be were a class, I’d surely be earning at least a B+, if not an A. I mean, it’s eleven months from our wedding and already M and I have secured the church, the reception site, the registry, the bridal party and the band. Not bad, right? I mean, I should probably start thinking more seriously about dresses and we do have to get all that stuff to the church that we’ve been too lazy to compile and my diet has been more like a non-diet and damn it I had an egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast today, but hey. All in all, I’m proud of us. Or, at least I was. Then I talked to M’s friend from college, Emma, who is getting married a month after us. Emma not only has everything that we have but she also has her dress, and her invitations, and her bridesmaids dresses and her florist and an appointment for her first hair trial in just a few weeks. But that’s not even the most disturbing part. I mean, some people are overachievers and I’m okay with not being one. (Besides, the overachievers never had dates in high school.) The most disturbing part is that, in order to get in shape for her wedding (please note: this woman is a size two, on a fat day), Emma wakes up at four thirty in the morning to go to the gym. That’s 4:30. A.M.

Ok, yeah, 4:30? AM?? As I commented on her post, not even for SEX. I mean, seriously? I think the last time I got up at that hour was to go to Boston, so that was for a flight for a girls' mini-break. Well worth it. Yay Boston and your cider having ON TAP selves! And working out? Um, not so much. I am not a working out kind of gal. I try to workout, but there is always some reason I quit. Mostly because, it's WORK. I YEARN for those days as a kid on the play ground when playing POOP DECK was a BLAST. Now I think about doing that, and I have to sit down. Everyone kept telling me how getting married is the great workout motivator. Not seeing it. I think I brought salad to work for a week, and then I had McDonald's. And a sub, and pizza.(NOT all on the same day.) And don't go thinking, Oh please, you one of those skinny girls that always complain about eating half of a mini muffin? I am so far from that category, trust me. I am well acquainted with Lane Bryant.
I also want F involved in the process. As I told him(through tears of course, see link to above post) I need him there to keep me sane. He however? totally laid back about the whole thing. Am I defective because all the flash and sparkle about planning my wedding has totally worn off? Am I a freak for wanting it just be DONE ALREADY? Can I take the male point of view and Just Show Up and it's all done and ready to go?????

I need some girl power or something, SERIOUSLY.

Problems

F and I are now roommates. After I said "YES!" to the marriage question, he asked if I was going to move in. Now? He's. Freaking. Out. As we first started to move me in, he said, "You don't have that much stuff. I don't see why Eldest Sister was complaining." It's been about a month now and it's turned into, "OMG, WHAT IS ALL THIS CRAP!!!" I have linens for the kitchen table, I have decorative rugs for the seasons, I have clothes, and lots of socks(which, honestly, I didn't even realize how many I had.) and, as any female, SHOES. I have boxes of old note books from college that still had unused pages and pages of paper(I purged those after he assured me we'd take them to the recycling center so as to not have had a tree die in vain). His house is bigger than mine, so fitting it all in, not a problem. It's just getting around to fitting it all in. It's become a vicious circle, Get up, go to work(late) work all day(in between reading Blogs) drive to my house to "work" on packing, moving things out, etc, get hot and hungry only to realize it's 7:30 and we haven't eaten yet and have nothing TO eat, pack up, go home, thaw something out, cook it, eat dinner at 8:30ish, watch TV to unwind for an hour or so, at 10pm fall into bed exhausted only be unable to sleep because F was snoring the minute he hit the pillow. Get up, pete and repeat. When am I suppose to arrange things? Every room, and I do mean EVERY ROOM in the house has a pathway through my stuff. I'm suppose to be purging things. Every weekend we've been busy. Or I haven't felt well. I am completely stressed out about all of it. I had a breakdown the other night. A night, which should have been stress free. The night we FINALLY booked our venue. Little things he did through out the morning were driving me crazy, and after he left to go do his Hobby, I was left to stew in my irritation. He asked me what was wrong when he got home and I said, "I don't want to talk about it right now." I was trying to give myself a chance to cool down so I wouldn't go all crazy postal on him. Finally we went to bed and I made of the mistake of deciding to journal. Writing about it, just PISSED ME OFF all over again.

"Are you going to tell me what is wrong?"

"Do you REALLY want to talk about this right now?"

"That's up to you." That response? Made me hit the roof. Fucking play passive aggressive with me! We proceeded to have a fight about something rather stupid, but it was soooo important at the time. Afterwards I was so upset I couldn't concentrate on finishing my journal entry because I was trying not to cry. The lights went out and our backs were facing each other.

"Are you crying?" came out of the dark from the other side of the king sized bed.

"no."

"What? are you crying?"

"No."

"Then why are you sniffling?" Sometimes he can be so in tune to what is going on with me, and other times.............

"because I'm trying not to cry."

"come here." he said as he lifted the covers so I could snuggle into his arms. And the dam broke and all the fears I'd had came flooding out. "Are you scared?" he asked me.
I decided to tell the truth. "Yes."

"About what?"

"Everything. Are we making the right decision. Is this going to work. Are we in over our heads."
He confessed, he was scared too. We talked for awhile longer, and then we fell asleep.
For the record, I hate crying. Lately however, it seems that's all I do. We fight, I cry, I feel better, for about a week. I honestly thought women were crazy when they said planning a wedding is seriously intense shit. Now? Not so much.

Next problem? I've become addicted, ADDICTED to McDonald's McGriddles. When they first hit the scene, I thought, EW! Now, I can't get enough of #9 with an OJ PLEASE! And sadly, as with McDonald's in general, I pass like 200 hundred on my way to work every morning. It'd be easier to avoid if they weren't EVERYWHERE. Bridal body? Not doing so well.

But, wait, there's more. Now that the venue has been secured(Thanks Mom!!!) I've become complacent. In the beginning of Wedding 2008, I was all, I MUST GET EVERYTHING DONE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!! And everyone kept telling me, "OH! You've got LOOOOOOOADS of time!!!" So? Now? I've got LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOADS of time! I've done NOTHING ELSE. No flowers, no invites, no favors. NADA. I swear, I'm going to end up on Bridellza's despite my efforts to stay far far away from such behavior. And I'll be the second bride who get's left at the alter.

Bedding Battles: Part Deux

The battle, which pretty much turned into a war the other night, rages on. We've experienced no relief concerning the hot/cold issue now that we are in the comforts of A/C. I am always hot. F is always cold. I love to sleep with the fan on, he shivers. I tell him to sleep in more, he tells me to sleep in less. I sleep in my birthday suit under just the sheet, so I'm not sure how much more "less" I can go. The other night he told me we were sleeping without the fan on. I said no, because I would be hot. He said his feet were cold, so I got him an extra blanket and put it on his feet. He sulked. I exploded. This requires a bit of a side note. When I am angry, he keeps at me until I tell him what is wrong. With him, he just clams up. I'd had enough of the double standard on sharing feelings. I said "Fine. I'll go sleep in the other room." At which point I made the move to grab my pillow, which he yanked out of my reach. Now that I think it about, that was kinda funny. Anyway, I yelled and demanded what it was he wanted me to, after all "I already sleep naked!!!!!"

"Can we not yell? Can we talk about this?"

Of course I felt like a jackass for yelling then, but damn it, why does he keep insisting that he doesn't want to sleep under another blanket? I don't understand. Am I crazy? Is it not easier to just add another blanket to keep warm than it is to find a way to keep me cool? I can't have the fan on, I can't turn the A/C colder, and I already sleep naked under just a sheet, so please, enlighten me as to how I'm suppose to cool off?? While you simply add a light cover and are all snugly warm without it affecting me.

Anyone?

The fan stayed on.

He slept under the extra blanket.

Bringing the Crazy

The night BF became F I laid awake for hours worrying about his family, my family, his religion, my religion, his house, my house, how the "kids" are going to be raised, if I was making a mistake and how in hell we are were going to pay for the 100+ people, on my side, ALONE. Since then I've been told by my friends that I was crazy, that I was "rushing" the engagement, that I was going to drive him nuts with all my wedding planning stuff(um,yeah, done.) and that I needed to ENJOY planning the wedding, that I need to RELAX and have FUN. This really annoyed the hell out of me, in fact, it still does. I have heard MANY horror stories about how the trials of getting a hall to match dates with your church. So the next day I became a Internet Google-ing fool. It truly amazes me how many places, in this day and age, do not advertise on the Web. Or the ones that are so "posh" they can't possibly be bothered with posting a price list. For the average American bride (ie blue collar folk) a set menu makes life so much easier. I can have chicken, fish or beef and one pasta. OK, easy enough. Just give me a price! Quit telling me that I need to call you for further information, because prices are based on what you choose from our vast gourmet selection. UGH! And seriously, I know this is a business, and they are in it to make money, but why can't they buy nice colored chairs that don't require a "chair cover"? I saw one place, ONE, that had nice pleather chairs in a simple cream color. See? it's that simple. Instead of assuming I have an extra $2.50 a chair ($246 based on 120 guests) to pay another vendor, to correct your color coordinating mistake. When I complained to my mother about how much it was going to cost she whips out the old, "If you can't afford to get married, maybe you shouldn't be getting married then." Um, pardon? I own a house, he owns a house, I think we can afford the what? $100 bucks for a license? which is REALLY ALL YOU NEED TO BE MARRIED. It's the party that costs the buckage. Not the actual marrying part. I explained to her that in ye olden days when both bride and groom were just then moving out of their parent's house and setting up a house together there was a larger cost associated with getting married. However, nowadays, that's not the case. We are combining things, which in the long run will be a money savings move.


I have to admit, once we actually set a date and got the church booked, I've relaxed just a tad. Then I logged onto The Knot and saw the long long list of things yet to be done, and the count down of days, and I kinda freaked again. I have plenty of time, it's just getting everything organized. Deciding what we want for what thing. I am no Monica Ghelleger with her massive color coordinated-cross referenced guide to her wedding that she's been putting together since she could use scissors. I've never imagined my flowers, or my cake or my colors or the bride's maid dresses. And I think, well, actually, I am pretty sure that, this is where my anxiety comes in, because I have no idea where to start with any of those things. And not knowing about any of these things, kinda makes me feel like I'm lacking as a female. I mean, I have no clue about what flowers are what. I can tell you what a rose is, and a dandelion, and that's pretty much it. As for my "colors", I know what color I'd like the bride's maids dresses to be(something deep jewel toned), but beyond that, why do I need "colors"???? Do you have any idea how many cake toppers there are out there???? And "favors"? Seriously? I'm feeding and boozing you up, do I need to supply you with a "favor" as well?????


So yes, this process is suppose to be fun, and exciting. But right now, I'm just not feeling the giddiness of a 22yr old spending her parent's money.

Maybe that's because I'm 33 and spending my own money.

Bands of Marriage

Well folks, I must change BF to just F because the boy got down on one knee and proposed! So now he's a Fiance'!!!!! Now that all the hype is dying down, after only a few short days I must say, the horror stories are starting to emerge. Why do people feel the need to tell you how to avoid horrible things? Why can't they impart knowledge of saving money? Tell my how to avoid spending a fortune. Don't tell me how to avoid hating my in-laws. Ok, I can understand the need for both, really I can. But I want to hear the HAPPY, I'm already discovering the horror on my own. $80 a head?!?!?!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????????? I don't need braised or sauteed or glazed or fresh baby anything. Crack open some KFC Classic and their fabu biscuits and I'm good. I don't need uber fancy. I need nice. Clean dishes, clean crisp linens. Plus it doesn't help that the wedding we went to back east(marriage is over btw) has totally made the local VFW hall unacceptable as a reception venue. I want COOL, I want UNIQUE, I WANT FAIRY TALE. I can afford, VFW.


I'm buying a lotto ticket today at lunch, I swear I am. Lunch, yes all forms of food now also must change. I have to have the fabu bridal body. (B)F is all about wanting to look "smokin hot" for our wedding. WE can't have him all smokin and me barely smouldering. *Sigh*

Plus he's telling me I can't talk wedding stuff for at least 2 weeks so we can "enjoy the engagement." He rolled his eyes after he suggested I make an Excel list labeled 'Guests', and I informed him said list was made and had already been altered several times. With over a year to plan and have various breakdowns, I'll probably drive him away.

Croc Crock

The new trend in shoes are those Crocs. They are suppose to be very comfy and have been made popular by doctors and nurses everywhere, and are wore by all ages. I have no problem with people who wear them, I've eyed them myself as a choice. Although I heard about a hospital that has banned them because they are plastic and build up a huge static charge causing some equipment to short out. That is neither here nor there. What I DO have a problem with is one of my co-workers who wears them, and now has added the little Croc accessories, called Jibbitz to fancy up your plastic next-gen jellie shoes. She's SIXTY, and is wearing little plastic snap in flowers and ladybugs on her plastic next-gen jellie shoes. SIXTY people, 6-0. And she's wearing this to work, and it's not even Casual Friday.

I mean seriously, need I say more?

Ok, I'll give you the Awareness Ribbons, but still, SIXTY YEARS OLD, to work, in an OFFICE.

Quiet as a Dishwasher Mouse

A few months ago BF opened a drawer in the kitchen and asked me if I thought the little things in there were mouse droppings. I, far from an expert in this area, said I thought they were too small, and so we both concluded that they must be seeds from one of his fancy whole grain/whole wheat breads. The other night while putting a dish in the dishwasher I met the fancy whole grain/whole wheat bread seed dropper, except it had 4 legs and a cute little nose. I was of course stunned at finding a mouse in the dishwasher, THE DISHWASHER. My mind can not comprehend how said mouse found it's way into the dishwasher. The thing is sealed up pretty good because of the water usage and what-not, so how did our furry little friend squeeze his body between the door and the wall? Or, as BF claims, squeeze his body up the water pipe, through the slits in the strainer at the bottom, in order to feast on our un-rinsed dishes????? All I could then think of was, how can we EVER be sure of clean dishes again?? Seriously? I mean even if we don't see anymore droppings around the freshly washed silverware, how can we be certain that our little house guest hasn't tread across them? Or had his friends in for a fork and spoon party??? How can I ever invite people over again? What if someone spies a whisker? Or a nose print on their steak knife?

The only good thing to come out of this was the comical way in which BF came racing out of the bedroom in his boxers after I yelled ( he claims I screamed as if I was being attacked by an intruder, hardly) his name. It was truly comic gold. He says it's not funny, and I set his heart to racing beyond belief.

I can't stop giggling.

You're Gonna WhAAAAAAT?????

I was one of several women BF was dating before we decided we wanted to be exclusive. Actually, I told BF no nookie unless he was dating just me, and amazingly he agreed. Anyway, one of the women he saw briefly happens to be an accountant. Last year, and again this year, he paid her to do his taxes. I wasn't too keen on it, but since he was completely up front about it, I didn't fuss. However, this year he informs me that she is going under the knife and he offered to go visit her. AT. Her. HOUSE. while she's recovering. That, I am so NOT keen on. He thinks I'm being crazy, telling me it's a "cultural thing". That if someone you know is ill, you go visit them. I tried to rein in my irrational female while I tried to form a logical argument to make him see my point. As my shrink cousin enlightened me a few weeks ago, you have to think like a man in order to communicate with them, which means being "logical" as opposed to "emotional", and in BF's case I have to be not only logical but have point by point arguments to back-up my logic because he's an engineer. Now, I never thought myself to be overtly emotional when came to making decisions and arguments, but having a full time BF, I'm more a female than I ever imagined. Not that there's anything wrong with that. So I formed my argument from the stand point that if his dentist went under the knife, would he then visit that person at home? Because after all, you are paying them for a service at least twice a year as opposed to once a year such as you do a tax accountant. The answer was of course No. So hence, I concluded, if you are claiming to have the same relationship with this woman (as a paid employee) as you do with your dentist, then it stands to reason that you would in fact NOT go visit her.

He accused me of playing the guilt card.

I countered with it actually being the logic card.

He's not visiting her, at least to my knowledge.

COPS.......Coming to your Street

BF thinks I live in a bad neighborhood. He thinks this to the point that, " I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone." The house was empty for a year before I moved in. The garage side door was left unlocked where the very nice mower was stored. The Fridge, Stove and Microwave are all visible from the kitchen window and from the side door. And yet, nothing was taken. Granted, I live a block from the not so nice neighborhood, but in the year I've lived there, I've never had a problem. There are several elderly couples living in my neighborhood as well. The woman I bought the house from was a single woman just like me, and she said she loved it. It kind of irritates me because he makes me doubt my safety and then I can't sleep at night which only succeeds in making his life miserable because I'm miserable. It's not the first neighborhood I chose, but it's my hood damn it, and I like it. It's quiet, despite the white trash neighbors. The kids are always running about in the summer. People are out walking. Do they do that in bad hoods? I think not. But I can't seem to convince him that I'm ok. I never would've moved into a hood I left wasn't safe. It's a blue collar hood and I'm ok with that because I'm blue collar. I feel like his hood is kind of snobby. I don't feel comfortable there.
The battle will continue until, well until I move into his house. Which at this point, as he told me last weekend is, ".....[o]nly a suggestion."

Can You Hear Me Now?

The couple whose wedding BF and I attended are finding themselves separated...... by distance. Shortly after the wedding, mere days actually, the groom left for the mid-west. He got called-up to serve our country in the war torn Middle East. He is currently in boot camp. So the bride is alone, save for a roommate who has a wandering eye. Her friends and family do not live in the area. Needless to say, she's quite lonely. I certainly feel for her, I myself do not know what I would do placed in the same situation. Fear would become my shadow. This aside, I do not feel as though we are friends. I spent time in her home, I attended her wedding, this however does not put us in a position to spend hours on the phone chatting like old pals. This is however exactly what BF feels I should be doing. I don't spend hours chatting with my own friends let alone the wife of BF's friend. I feel mean about it, yes, however I feel somewhat put upon being forced to be her friend. There are 2 of her bride's maids that live in the same town. But apparently they aren't spending an overert amount of time with her either. I have offered to e-mail her, and IM with her throughout the day. Neither of which she's taken me up on. I have no idea how to handle this with BF. He keeps telling me she wants a woman to talk "woman talk" with. I don't do woman talk. I have no idea what to say to her. We have limited "together" experiences for me to draw from. A total of 2 weeks in all of "together time" in the last year. That's not much conversation foder. It's a hard situation, having to measure every word and sentence for fear of reminding her that her husband may not come back next year. Or that she's living alone. When I mentioned to BF that I don't make him talk to the husbands of my friends, he looked at me like I was completely crazy for even suggesting such a thing.

And yet, the parrell still completely escaped him.

Say What?

Every office has one. The crazy co-worker. We have one, and she is considered my "superior", in title only of course. Over the years she has gotten crazier, and never ceases to amaze myself and a few of my friends with the odd things she comments on, usually completely out of the blue.
For example, yesterday I was wearing a skirt, a rarity to be sure, but the thing came down to my ankles, nothing flashy about it. She stops the conversation she is having with another co-worker in the hallway to comment:

"Well well well, look at her. Whatcha doin' lookin all sexy today? Where ya goin looking that sexy???"

"Uh, to my cube?"

"Does your MAN know you're out lookin like that?"

"Uh, yeah, since I wore this to CHURCH yesterday, he does." The fact that the outfit was Church worthy seemed to throw a wrench in the works. However that didn't stop her today from commenting:

"Is your hair shorter? Did you get it cut?" (Normal enough question, yes, but just wait.)

"Yeah, about a month ago." For most people this is where the conversation would have ended, but she continues.......

"Hmmm, Maybe it's because you styled it differently?"

Nope."

"It's more flippy." (notice, not a question, a statement.)

"Nope."

"No, it's more puffy."(again, statement.)

"Nope."

"Well hmmm, it's something!"

"Not really, no."

"Well fine, I give up then. But it still looks shorter!"

Past conversations have included telling me I'm getting too thin, while she grabs the leg of my pants and tugs. Which also sometimes leads to telling me that if I keep it up I'll "lose my caboose." Telling me my "girls" look really good in my shirt. Or as I've come to think of it as my own Bridget Jones' moment: Your Tits look good in that Top. Insisting an item of clothing is new, and that I've never worn it before, when in fact I've been wearing it for the last 3 yrs. Her comments extend beyond myself. She feels free to give commentary on what people are having for lunch, " Just tomatoes? With pepper? I wouldn't get anywhere near that without some cheese and bread! Hmph."
"Look at you! You dress like a teenager!" To a 30 something co-worker who in fact does NOT dress like a teenager. Backhanded compliment anyone?
She's able to completely confuse our programmer by rattling on about how she would program this and that and our programmer should try this and that. The programmer's eyes completely glaze over the minute Crazy Co-worker approaches her. Being able to confuse the programmer, to me, speaks volumes to her Craziness.

Make mine a Cranberry and Purell

I just read an article stating that a 2 oz thing of hand sanitizer has the same amount of alcohol as several shots of vodka. Some grade schools are pulling the sanitizers because of this. Now really, what kid would have thought to down a hand sanitizer before the big spelling bee to calm his/her nerves? They will now though, won't they? Thank you hard hitting investigative news, thank you.

I'll be trolling the grocery sale ads for a buy one get one sale on Purell, so much cheaper than Vodka.

Wedding Planner Lessons

BF and I went back East to attend the wedding of one of his dear friends. The setting was fabulous, the food was divine and the booze were free flowing. That my dear readers, was the first mistake made by the couple who wanted nothing more than their friends and family to co-mingle and have a wonderful time.

Things I learned attending a wedding

1) Free booze +empty stomach=Trouble(for me especially).

2)Those that arrive with "Sex hair", have had sex before the wedding, have sex at the dinner table, and have sex at the top of the stairs for all to see.

3)Booze + pretty girls=inappropriate touching by various groomsmen.

4)Sibling rivalry = partner swapping.

5)Booze = the expression of latten lesbian feelings( not by me, but maybe for me).

6)Making friends with the foreign bartender is the way to happiness.

7)Being a "Cast-off", or the date of a bridal party member, is a lonely night made better by #6, but worse by #8.

8)Having your BF mention how great every other guy thought your boobs look is NOT a confidence booster.

Deep Thoughts...........

A day in the life of me and Instant Messaging........

Adult:(......) and uh, guys scratch their balls 24/7, be they droolers or not. just a heads up

Adult: or as BF says, "I'm ADJUSTING, ok!?!?!"

CBF: Men are really quite disgusting. Yet, I like sex. Go figure.

Adult: isn't it just the oddest? really, do you think if God is a man, he's a scratcher as well?

CBF: Sure, because he's probably got a huge set of stones.

Adult: that being the case, don't you think he'd of made us more accepting of said ball scratching?

CBF: This is the guy who gave us periods.

Adult: as punishment for the whole apple thing. maybe the ball scratching “ew” factor was an add on to the whole punishment thing

CBF: I totally want my money back.

Adult: I didn't offer anyone a stupid apple. hell, I’m allergic!

CBF: It sucks being a woman, but it's better than being a man any day-- because they never wash after they scratch, and who the heck wants hands that smell like sweaty balls?

Adult: ew, so totally

Adult: and they don't wipe after they pee

Adult: and i'm sorry, but the whole "shake it dry" thing, really just flings the pee to other places.

CBF: That's like blowing your nose without a Kleenex!

Adult: So totally! You know, they don't even give them the option of TP at the urinals! So you HAVE to fling.

CBF: Or tap-- tapping is better, but still. It leaves pee droplets in the underwear-- don't men understand that women don't mind being around the twig and berries, as long as pee is not involved or in the vicinity, or stained to the tighty whities???!!!!!

Adult: they do not. mothers can not intervene and teach their boys because that kind of peeing is a man thing. So they teach each other, hence passing on the bad habit.

CBF: No wonder grown men still have skid marks.

Adult: EW!

Adult: and wear holey undies

CBF: Yeah-- what is the deal with that, or should I not get you started?

Adult: even my brother who was properly raised by women, wears it that way. when my mom was living there, she'd steal it, take it home and throw it out.

CBF: That's whack.

Adult: totally.

Somebody........farted

Yes, I'll admit it, I was the Farter, BF was the Fartee. It isn't just that I farted in his presence. Oh, no, no cute Carrie Bradshaw moment here. We were, hmm, let's say, the BF and I were engaged in some foreplay, and he was doing his best to rev my engine manually(with his hands) when suddenly I farted. This is the exchange that followed:

"OMG! You just farted!"

"I'm so sorry! Oh God, I'm sorry!" I managed to choke out between laughs.

"You really know how to kill the moment, don't you?" he asked laughing.

More laughing from me.

"God, I felt that on my hand."

"Here, smell my hand, it stinks!"

"Oh stop! It does not!"

"I can't believe you. I have to go wash my hand. Here smell it!"

"You are such a dork!"

We both die laughing. Thank god BF isn't an uptight guy.





But I must pose this question, What is it with guys insisting that you smell something that smells nasty? The nastier the better?


And yet, he refuses to smell the spoiled milk.











P.S. I found this handy device while searching for a pic. Are we REALLY suppose to believe that stainless steel makes you not be smelly anymore? Couldn't you just rub the good sliver under your arm? I'm just sayin.

Home Again Home Again, Jiggity Jig

BF and I made it home from his parents, in one piece and are still dating. We agreed that our families are completely different from each other and that we need to just deal with that fact.

Difference 1) BF's family believes that the "rounds" to all family members need to be made immediately upon arrival. Never mind you've been in the car for 10hrs and are working on 2 hrs of dozing, not proper sleep, just dozing.

My Family hosts a large party where all are invited, and viewing of the far flung relative can be done in one easy pass with beer in hand. If you are unable to attend the viewing, so sad, too bad, your loss.

Difference 2) Present opening is a free for all. Wrapping paper begins to fly once the children hit the door and are able to decipher their names on the tag.



(Granted not kids, but this is the best I could find.)

My Family dictates that the children can look, but not touch, their presents until the appointed time where everyone sits down nicely and presents are passed out and opened one at a time. Perhaps a bit confining, but much easier on the senses of everyone involved.

Difference 3) No matter what physical state you are currently in(the stomach flu for yours truly), you WILL attend the family meal and help mind the children.

My Family(ok, not the entire extended family follows this one, but my immediate family does) adhere to the fact that germs are easily spread, and hence please keep yours AT HOME.

Difference 4) Family feuds are to be heard, and participated in by all. With the climaxing shout of, "It's Christmas for Christ's sake!" with various family members scattering to different parts of the house to sulk.

My Family, that I can ever recall, has NEVER had such an outburst during a family function. Perhaps because the women are well known silent fummers and only explode out of eye/ear shot and are masters of the passive-aggressive tactics of evil eyes, heavy sighs and Catholic Guilt.

The upside to the whole adventure was the trip into the City where I got to see the sun set over skyscrapers and the additional trip to an Outlet mall where my fabulous leather coat and matching handbag were purchased. Merry Christmas!!!!!!

Road Trip

BF and I leave this week to head East to spend the Holiday with his parents and family. I am decidedly concerned about interaction with his father, who is openly racist, even though he is somewhat of a "minority" himself. And his mother, who is openly hot to have her son(BF) marry, ANYONE, so she can have more Grandsons. Note grandSONS, not grandKIDS, hoping for anything as long as it's healthy; no, it's specifically Boys. BF was informed that the New Priest in their Church wants an audience with him; even though he isn't a parishioner because he lives in a different state, but because he's "heard about" BF. Flashbacks from earlier this year shook me from head to toe.

Small recap: Priest visiting from The Homeland requests audience with BF and his new Ladyfriend(me). Conversation is conducted in The Homeland language leaving Ladyfriend(me)completely out of the equation. Ladyfriend(me) finds out later that BF completely exposed the affairs of the bedroom, hence reserving 2 handbaskets to hell. Visiting Priest pushes to have BF announce his engagement to Ladyfriend(me) after four long months of dating. Ladyfriend(me), who is a modern independent woman, is further disgusted and horrified when Visiting Priest inquires via translator (BF's father), "Can you COOK???"
Flash to present where I forcefully inform BF that our personal life is a restricted topic and he is to inform New Priest that he needs to M.Y.O.B.
Which I'm sure won't happen and I'll once again be blamed for BF's decent into a morally corrupt life.
"Damn American girl!!!"


P.S. Props to [redacted] who inspired me to learn to add pics and just now, how to add a link!

Not Good

I've officially maxed out a credit card. Target. Yes, I can no longer be assured of fabulous deals on laundry detergent and shampoo because stepping foot through the electronically opened doors can no longer occur.

To top that off, our fabulously spineless boss has committed the faux pau of promising us our raises before the Christmas break and then reneged by telling us that really might not actually happen.

I'm going to have to prostitute myself in order to buy eggs.

Which in my case, means I'll starve.

Tell Me Again?

Someone please tell me again why, WHY, it is considered a right of passage as an adult to be a homeowner? I don't do anything differently in my home that I couldn't have done in a maintenance free apartment, other than paint the walls and tear up the carpet. But I'm speaking more on a daily basis type of thing. I'm certain walking about the home in my panties would have been just as easily accomplished in an apartment. And when the rains of the last few days started running down the walls in the basement, I would have simply called the apartment manager to get someone out to fix it, instead of wailing to my mother at 7am that " I don't want to do this anymore!!!" i.e. be an adult and "own" a home. I am poorer than I have ever been in my life. I've actually almost maxed out a credit card, another first, albeit it's a clothing store card, I tend to spend when I'm at my wits' end(good shirt slogan!), and I've gone over on my miles on my lease for this year, and I still have the rest of the month to go. I blame the mileage issue squarely on BF's shoulders since driving to and fro from his place adds an extra 8 miles each round trip. This may seem trite, except when you do the math. 8x6=48 extra miles a week. 48x4=192 extra miles a month. That of course doesn't add in the trips to the grocery store or out to dinner because I'm the last one in driveway, so we might as well take my car. Then there's the added expense of trips. Home for the holidays to mom and dad’s (I'm still trying to get out of that one) and the best friend's wedding that just HAD TO BE held at a tropical destination during high season. Trying finding reasonable airfare for THAT!
Stress and I do not compliment each other.
Adulthood Sucks.

Hot Cheese!

Today at work I was reheating a PMS related snack, Cheese Bread(a leftover), when a small drop of the melted gold fell onto the pan. I took my fork and speared the cheese glob, or at least thought I did, when moments from my watering lips the glob fell from the fork onto my slightly exposed breast(read low cut top). It took mere seconds to register that the glob was burning my breast. So while standing the in the highest traffic area of the office, the kitchen, I'm fishing around my in my top for a burning glob of cheese. Just around the corner I hear two male co-workers chatting. Myself feel-up becomes more frantic. Convinced that the burning glob is not lodged between the underwire and my skin I do the "shake it lose dance" and am immediately gladdened when said glob falls to the floor, now a cold lump of artery clogging fat. I am left with a small amount of dignity because I was not discovered feeling myself up, however that was slightly tarnished by the grease stains left on my blouse, right over my breast, by the heartless melted gold.





In other news, BF won out in the bedding battle by complaining that my comforter, which I love dearly, is too heavy, "it chokes" him (which I couldn't help but picture oversized comforter hands wrapping around his throat attempting to choke him in great cartoon style) and too small for the bed. It was the size issue that won me over, and I have added to my credit card debt even more by purchasing a new "quilt" that is almost the exact color of my walls and therefore finding the bed has become a new fun challenge.

International Drunk Dialing

My very good friend with whom I got exceptionally drunk with in "When aspirin isn't Enough" drunk dialed me from across the pond. Needless to say, she was drunk, as was her husband whom encouraged her to do the dialing. We haven't had a full on conversation since they were here a few months ago, so I was surprised when she casually asked, "So, when's the wedding?" I said I didn't know, but does this mean you approve??? In her Britishized American accent she informed me, "Oh Adult, he's Lovely." The conversation of course went on to dresses and what-not that I'm already semi-planning to do. Thankfully BF was in the other room engrossed in Dateline or something and was unable to hear that her future dieting plans are dependent on his future(hopefully) proposal.

I've been ordered to inform her promptly when the event occurs so that she may book the appropriate flights and arrival time so that we may once again discover why aspirin isn't enough, and most likely, why you don't do the bachelorette party the night before the wedding.

Pluck that Again

The other day I discovered a very long dark hair on my chinny-chin-chin. I know that this wayward hair often sprouts it's manly head, but I usually catch it long before it's long enough to braid. For some reason( read: too busy with BF to do proper grooming) I completely blanked on it this time around and was horrified to find it waving back at me in the mirror one evening. I promptly plucked it, as a girl is wont to do, all the time wondering why none of my female friends or BF pointed it out to me. Surely, at least BF was close enough to notice it. And nothing was said.

My faith in the human race took a blow that day, it truly did.

Corporate Conehead

I have a co-worker. She took over my old position. A few years after we hired her, we hired someone else to 'help' her because of the 'massive amount of work.' It is common knowledge that my replacement does nothing much. To the point that her 'helper' now assigns the tasks that need to be done. My replacement ducks works to the point that she walks the office giving everyone a copy of the daily newspaper. I wish I had that kind of free time(ok yes I Blog instead. whatever.) Today, when she came around I got snippy with her, to which she replied, "meee-oow". She's 50.

Now, I can't help but point out that her bringing the paper around cuts out the possibility of ME wasting time by going and GETTING the paper myself. Who is she to deny me my own time wasting time? Who, I ask, Does she THINK SHE IS???!!!!!!????!!!! Only the evil use their time wasting time to deny others their own time wasting time.

EVIL.

Hearts and Flowers

Last night I confessed to my Mom that BF loves me. Oddly enough, she seemed happy to hear the news. Every time we have a conversation involving BF she gets defensive on my behalf. I always feel that I must defend him and clear up the misunderstanding that he is an evil foreigner (foreigner yes, evil no). I think she may becoming around to my side. This is good, because everyone who is not related to me (read co-workers) keeps asking if I expect a ring this year. Yes, Yes I do expect a ring this year, or at least soon.

I think he is stockpiling down payment money, but I'm not letting him know that I know.

Actions Speak Louder

Brace yourself, I'm going to get political.
In the past week I've heard and read much about the Pope's "comment" that was made whilst addressing the German populous. The Islamic Leaders are outraged and upset about a piece of text written a few centuries ago. You have to ask, or at least I do, If this "letter" was so damning to Islam, why was it never publicly denounced by them before now? They are demanding an apology from the Pope, and even THAT won't be enough they claim.
Now the Islam followers are all up in arms, burning churches. I can't help but notice, as should you, that burning a church, of any domination, pretty much makes you a bad person. Which, um, is exactly what the letter from the 1400 said to begin with, is it not?
Say it with me people, Actions Speaker Louder than words. So go ahead and SAY you are a peace loving religion as you launch a fire bomb at the local church, we'll all understand. And I'm sure a Public Apology will certainly be enough to cover the damage of the burned churches by your peace loving followers.

Islamic militants vow war after pope comments

“We shall break the cross and spill the wine ... God will (help) Muslims to conquer Rome ... (May) God enable us to slit their throats, and make their money and descendants the bounty of the mujahideen,” said the statement, posted on Sunday on an Internet site often used by al-Qaida and other militant groups.

Yes, Peaceful, so very peaceful.

Bedding Battles

BF and I have vastly different ideas about what type of bedding should be placed on the bed. Growing up poor, ok, semi-poor, my parents turned the heat WAY down at night in the winter, so in order not to wake-up an icilce, the blankets were piled high. To this day I love the house cold and the bed heavy with the warmth and comfort of many blankets. Plus, being a Mortgage Owner, keeping the house cold cuts down on the heating bill. BF, for whatever reason, I have yet to get a straight answer out of him, is anti-top sheet in the winter. He sleeps directly under the comforter, with the heat still up. Needless to say I don't sleep very well at his place being too hot and the blankets are not heavy enough. As the nights have gotten colder I went out and purchased a light blanket to place on his King Sized Bed in order to cut down on his complaints of "I'm freezing!!" How you can be freezing when the house is at 72 degrees is beyond me, but anyway. The other day he informs me that this winter we will have to have separate blankets because he likes to cocoon himself in the bedding. Yes, I discovered that everytime I got up to go the bathroom, and came back to find there were no blankets left to cover me because he had made himself into a boyfriend burrito. When spending the night at my house, he kicks off the top sheet, but complains of being cold, so I give him an extra blanket. I'm really stuck on the whole top sheet thing. Where in the world do you learn to sleep without a top sheet? If you get even slightly sweaty during the night the top sheet is a barrier between you and the "Dry Clean Only" comforter. Without said barrier you are constantly shelling out for the "Dry Clean Only" comforter to be cleaned because it, well, stinks after having 2 people sleep under it. I've gotten used to not having everything tucked in, but the sheet thing, I don't wanna have to do extra loads of laundry just because he has top sheet issues. This may seem trivial, but think back to the last time you got all hacked off because someone replaced the TP "upside down". Hmmmmm????

BF fessed up that Momma has been harking on the whole wedding issue.

"If she was from The Homeland, you'd be married by now." She informed him last week.

So I asked, "Does she really like me, or does she just want you to get married for the sake of being married??"

"For the sake of being married." Came his too quick reply. Ok, so I'm not getting the Daughter-in-law of the year award.

"Does she understand that we're not from some small village where your parents know my parents and we grew-up together and have known each other forever? We haven't known each other forever you know, not even a year yet."

"No, they don't get it."

"They need to get it."

"I know. I told her if she asks again I won't call her anymore, and if and when it does happen, I'll call her and tell her."

I'm telling you, the woman has my "Good China" picked out and the children named already, I swear.

Waiting for White

BF and I have reached and passed the 9 month mark. With this knowledge my Crazy Best friend has begun planning "The Wedding." She's addicted to "Whose Wedding is it Anyway?", and has a million ideas about how to save money. I caught her fever and we proceeded to pick the menu, the church, and the reception hall, only after of course, making the guest list, my side only. She wanted me to ax seven people whom are distant friends because, "Adult! $20 a plate times 7 equals $140!!!!" Probably good she lives so far away. All the venues I'm sure will change once I see them in person versus seeing a one dimensional view over the web. And of course, once BF has his say about what he'd like to see. CBF and I have not yet broached color scheme and dresses, but I'm sure that's not far behind. She claims that the more stress and planning we get out of the way now, the more I can focus on my "bling ring" once I actually get it. Which, BTW, BF continues to tease me with the horror of CZ in as many carts as my pudgy finger can hold without a wheelbarrow. At least he's teasing right? Not breaking down the door to run the other way. He gets a kick out of making me squirm when it comes to The Ring. I've a very specific idea about what I want. And shallow though it may seem, at my 30something years I feel that something that one would have been able to get(afford/been happy with) in their early 20s greatly changes in their 30s, where jobs and homes have most likely already been established.

BLING BABY!

Ahem, sorry, I lost my composure for a moment. Is it really all about the meaning or "symbolism" of the ring? Yes, I'm sure it is. But "the meaning" can be interpreted in several different ways, don't you think? Just think of the last ugly gift you got. How did that make you feel? Like the person giving the gift either A)Doesn't know you all that well and hence the ugly, or B) They don't care and hence the ugly, or C) They didn't want to get you anything anyway and hence the ugly. I hope this proves my point. Maybe not, maybe I've just dug my own hole even deeper with the world at large. But I know what makes me happy:

BLING BABY!

Seriously, I love him, and I'm sure it'll all work out the way it's suppose to.

And here I was just last month complaining of the Momma Push down the aisle. Oh how times have changed.

When Aspirin isn't Enough

A long time friend visited this weekend. And we drank, and we chatted, and we drank, a lot.


Lesson learned: Drinking the entire contents of your "liquor cabinet" not only makes you horribly, horribly ill, but it also leaves you nothing to drink when you return to work on Monday, and realize that everyone is a complete dolt and hence you will need a drink when the day ends, but you have nothing, because you drank it all, and are too "house poor" to replenish your supply.

How Stupid ARE You?

People in this world are overtly stupid. People in this world lack basic, common sense, or, in the words of my mother, "You don't use the good sense God gave ya." And yes, it was directed at me, but I've since stood in the "Common Sense" line and had my card re-stamped. So it is with my stamp that I make the list of just how stupid people are.

1. During an unprecedented heat wave in my area recently, the kind where they tell you on the News to drink tons of water and then tell you the tally of those that are deceased because of said heat wave, You, oh stupid one, are out Jogging, in a Sweatshirt.
2. We are currently headed towards a "Gas Crisis", which means there are long lines at the Stations whom have gas 5cents cheaper then everyone else. You, oh stupid one, pull into line in such away that you trap those of us already at the pump, at the pump. Hence preventing you and 4 other people from getting gas and creating a massive tie-up.
3. I have ordered pizza for everyone for lunch, I've sent out the e-mail stating that I am ordering pizza for everyone for lunch, I have walked the office announcing that the pizza I ordered for everyone for lunch has now arrived. You, oh stupid one, come and tell me that the pizza has arrived.
4. I have created a list comprising over 2,000 names of "important" people. You, oh stupid one, having looked at the list of 2,000 plus names, demand to know why 2 random people are missing, and I should know this off the top of my head.
5. You are currently entrenched in a huge project with an ever looming deadline. You snap at people who ask for your help, when it's your job to help, saying you haven't the time to help. You constantly complain that you have too much to do and not enough time to do it. You can be spotted throughout the workday leaning in doorways, chatting gaily. You purposely work part-time, instead of full-time. You, oh stupid one, take an entire week off, mid-deadline.

And this is my other Cousin Darryl......

BF met the extended family this weekend; and Yes, we are still together. He's met them before, but it was a whirlwind of just a few hours. This was a day and a half. He apparently dislikes the same family members as I do, but for a few different reasons. He hasn't even met EVERYONE yet. Half the family was missing. It will be a joy and a true pleasure when he meets the Other Side of the family, the racist bigoted side, what with him being a minority and a foreigner? Ah yes, it shall be a love fest for all, I'm sure.
Interestingly enough, I think BF may have proposed twice this weekend. How, you ask, could I not possibly know if it was an actual proposal or not? One was uttered in the post coital cuddle,

"Will you be mine forever?"

I responded simply in the words of Prince, the midget man of music and sexuality, "Forever's a mighty long time."

But my mind was racing: Was that a proposal? Should I say Yes? Do I want to say Yes? Should I ask him if it was a proposal? Could this be any more like Will and Grace when Woody Harrison asked Grace to marry him during sex?

The second, in response to my quiet rant about not having kids and a husband,

"You could have both those things quite easily."

I called him out on this last one:

"Is that a proposal BF?"

"No, I'm just sayin."

Emhm, and I'm just not buyin it.