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.