And The Thunder Rolls

While I’m sure very few will understand my reference to Garth Brooks in the title, it is most fitting for a couple of reasons:

1. It looks like rain. For the rest of the week, up until and possibly including my wedding day. Though a horticulturist to some extent, and even though I know about all of the wonderful things the rain can do…. BOO! Not on my wedding day! Who wants that?”They” (whoever “they” really are) say that it’s good luck to have rain on your wedding day. I think they say that because they’re trying, in a very pathetic manner, to say “wow, it really sucks that it would rain on someone’s wedding day, we’ll make this old wive’s tale up to try and take the focus off of the fact that they can’t take pictures outside, it’ll be dark and dreary, and their dress could get ruined.” But you know, good luck.

2. Have you been reading my blog? Today is THE day. The day of torture. The day, of waxing. Cue scary music, now. While on one hand, I’m very excited to be hair-free in just 6 hours, it’s kind of intimidating knowing that someone is going to have their hands in a place that only my future husband and OB/GYN will be. *Shiver* Plus, THE PAIN! It was semi-encouraging to talk to the receptionist at the salon. She called me yesterday to “confirm my appointment” (read: make sure I wasn’t chickening out). Apparently, it’s not uncommon to desire some sort of sedative before going under the waxing stick. I.E. alcohol. She informed me that as soon as I come in that I’m more than welcome to a glass of wine. Gee, thanks. Is that my parting gift? Along with the redness and swelling, I’m sure.

 Anyway, this’ll probably be my last post for a while. I’m going to be out of my mind with craziness over the next couple of days, although I’m sure my sister-in-law’s insanity can certainly rival mine. Stay cool everyone, and don’t forget about me while I’m gone!

How in the WORLD?!?!

This is…..interesting, new, disturbing.

How could googling “transvestite bridesmaids” bring you to my blog?

Hm?

Am I Really Getting Married?

I think it has officially hit me. Like a ton of bricks.

I’m. Getting. Married.

Me. The person who’s mother still has to tell her to clean her room. The person who still feels better after cuddling with daddy. The person who’s always been taken care of her entire life by someone else.

And now I have to care for myself and another. I have to go grocery shopping, my mom can’t do it for me. I have to make dentist appointments and doctor appointments. I have to do laundry. I have to be a real, live, grownup. No fooling around this time, this is it.

Let’s face it, I had it great. I’m not a complete idiot. I can do laundry, I can clean, I’m certainly capable of picking up a phone and making an appointment. It’s not that that’s getting to me. It’s that I can’t rely on anyone now to actually get it done. I have to do it. Me. Not my mom anymore. Me. ME! ME!!!

What if I mess up? What if L thinks I’m a complete moron and can’t do anything right? What if I burn his dinner? What if I forget to tell him about his doctor appointment? What if I permanently change the color of his white t-shirts?

Does anyone else worry about this stuff or am I just a sissy?

I know marriage is a partnership, and L is more than capable of helping out with these things. And I know he will. It’s just that, I’ve taken on as my personal responsibility to be the “housewife”. I’ll primarily be the chef, and I’ll do most of the cleaning (because, let’s face it, it just ain’t right If I didn’t do it ;). I just want him to be happy and not wish every night that we were eating dinner at my parents house because I am a terrible cook.

Is this normal?

It Burns!

One of my newest ventures in preparation for the wedding has been tanning. You know, fake-n-bake. Please spare me all of the medical reasons why I should not do this, I’m well aware. Plus, it’s not like I will be extending this any further than the wedding, I just wanted to give it a try.

Part of the reason why I’m doing this is because I have hideous tan lines from my bathing suit, and since my gown is strapless, I can’t have that. The other reason is because L asked me to, and since the romance hasn’t died yet, I still like to do nice things for him.  Forget about the fact that he will indeed see ultra-white naked flesh of mine one day, right now, we’re trying to look our best.

Anyway, L took me into the local Hollywood Tans as he has promised to pay for this for me. (Since he insisted that I give it a try, among other people, you know who you are) So, the girl behind the counter goes over all of the different options with us, telling me about the different beds and booths. They even do a spray-on tan but I nixed that idea. A girl I knew in high-school did it for prom and she looked like an oompa loompa.

We chose which booth I would be using for my month membership, and in I went. I gotta tell ya, these people really know what they’re doing because with my personal experience, it’s difficult to get an even tan while laying down in the beds. When you’re standing in the booths though, you hang on these handles above your head, you get a really even tan. When I came out, I didn’t really notice a difference right away. I figured this was common as it’s pretty much the same way for me after a day at the beach. I went home, put on some aloe just in case and called it a day.

The next morning I noticed that I was a little pink in the areas where the ’sun don’t shine’. No biggie though, just put on more aloe! That night (last night) I went back for the second time and even bumped up my time in the booth by an extra minute. Afterwards, I repeated the same routine as the night before and that was that.

This morning is a different story. This morning, there was pain, and burning, and itching and oh my gosh why the heck didn’t I put any sun-tan lotion on my boobs!!!! They are red. Not just pink this time, RED! The last time that part of my body had sun was when I was like 2, and it wasn’t so inappropriate to walk around topless, or naked for that matter. So you can imagine that my skin is freaking out on me now, like WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!? The worst part is that because tanning booths are like a speedy tan process, my “sunburn” from the other day has already started the itchy process underneath of the new “sunburn”. Basically it’s excruciating and all I can do not to scratch my boobs in public.

Tonight? Tonight there will be SPF 1,000 if they make it, because as stupid as it sounds, I will be going back there to tan. Just because that part of me is red certainly doesn’t mean the rest of me should be white. Actually, the rest of me is turning to a very nice brown color, so there. That is my justification.

I’m sure that my boobs could go one shade darker and be purple, and I think if I reach that point, I’ll stop. If not though, you can bet that I’ll be there every day until my wedding.

I’m getting rid of these stupid tan lines.

Please, Leave Me Alone

Ok, so we got this new temp, David. I’m actually posting his name because, well, he lacks the brain activity required to use a computer, much less find this blog.

David is actually helping my team out during this project we’ve got going. What I will give him credit for is his work ethic. That’s about where it stops.

He likes to talk to me at God-awful-o’-clock in the morning. And while I’m trying to eat lunch. And while I’m trying to read during lunch. Basically he’s a nuisance and it’s all I can do not to scream at him to let him know to just shut up and do his job, because really, that’s all we’re paying him for.

No, I do not care that you have 5 children and 2 baby-mommas. Yes, I know you’re a hard worker, I can see that, you certainly don’t have to brag about it 20 times a day. Can you change the room around?! How exactly is your brain wired that you would consider something so stupid? This is not your home, this is a professional corporate environment! Feng Shui on your own time, please. What am I reading? A book required for premarital counseling, and no, I do not want to discuss it with you because 1. It’s about sex, and I’m sure even talking about that with you will give me some sort of STD, and 2. I’m trying to actually read the book. I clearly cannot read and talk at the same time and, let’s be honest, reading is more of a priority to me.

How far away is the wedding? When can I take vacation?

Someone PLEASE get me outta here!

Last One, I Promise

While I know, that three posts in one day is just silly, I couldn’t help myself….

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet and current street name) Blitzen Morrison

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your mom’s side, your favorite candy)
Ronald Mary Reeses

3. YOUR “FLY GIRL/GUY” NAME: (first initial of first name, first two or three letters of your middle name)
LMar

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal) Pink Dog

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Marie Wilmington

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom’s maiden name and first 3 letters of the town you grew up in.)
SmiLaShNew

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (your favorite color, favorite drink)
Pink Lemonade (seriously!)

8. YOUR ALIBI’S NAME: (your boss’ name, cup size of the last woman you saw) Bryony B

9. YOUR MUSLIM NAME: (name of the cereal you last ate, “X”) Peanut Butter Cap’n Cruch X

10. YOUR REHAB NAME: (name of the car you drive, name of the channel you last watched) Scion Style Network

11. YOUR NASCAR NAME: (first two names of the last redneck you met, unless that’s you; oh, that’s all you need, actually) Ricky Bobby, Ok I’m kidding, so what?

I tag, H and M. No not the clothing store, the people!

Something Funny

Didn’t want to do these things on here, but I thought that those of you who know me would get a MAJOR kick out of this…..

You Should Travel to India

You’re a passionate, gusty traveler – and India’s gritty urban centers won’t scare you away. Maybe you’ll take in the Taj Mahal, eat the best curry of your life, or attend a huge street festival.

What Asian Country Should You Visit?

Officially Married! Or Something…

L and I went today to get our Marriage License. While this isn’t necessarily “the big plunge” it’s close to it. I mean, all we need are three teeny tiny signatures and it’s done! Horrah for us!

Speaking of signatures I’m super-angry because the crummy people who make up laws (at least in my state) require that the witnesses be at least 18. While this seems obvious, I had never really thought about it before. My sister is my maid of honor and she’s 15, so now I have to break the news to her that she won’t be signing my marriage license. Ugh!

Anyway, I’m feeling uninspired today, so rather than boring you with my ramblings, I’ll just cut it off here.

Yes They’re That Hairy, Stop Staring!

I went to the grocery store last night to pick up “supplies” for the broccoli, chicken alfredo I was making for the family. (which turned out spectacularly if I may say) Because lately I’ve taken to not caring about what people think about the way I look, I left my house in terry-cloth crop pants (sssoooo two years ago) and a log-sleeved white shirt from the Gap. I tell you this because peeking out from the bottom of those pants was the National Forrest of my legs.

I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but in preparation for getting my legs waxed I was told that my (leg) hair had to be at least a 1/4 inch long. Disgusting, right? It’s a total bummer because It’s summer time and rather than scare all the people at the local beach away, I’ve taken to just having ultra-white skin. Oh! Did I mention that while it is suggested that the hair be 1/4 inch long I have far surpassed this requirement? Yeah, I have man legs.

So, I’m walking through the store, picking up various items and finally make my way up to the self-checkout line. As I’m standing there waiting, a guy comes up and stands sort of diagonal, about 3 feet behind me. I look back and give the obligatory greeting smile and turn back around. Now, I don’t know about you, but while I’m waiting in line anywhere, I don’t just stand there and look forward. I browse the area. During my browsing process I notice in my peripheral vision that this man is still staring at me, so I turn and look at him. I guess he must have taken a look at the national forrest because he didn’t notice me glancing his way at all. He was steadily staring at my legs with this odd expression on his face that I can only translate into “She doesn’t look like a transvestite….” It’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing a tank top because I think my underarms might have created some competition for my legs. Seriously, am I the only fashion forward person in my general area? Does no one else get waxed? Step into the 21st century people, clearly I’m not the only one doing this.

Soon the person in front of me completed their order and I was able to start checking my stuff out. It’s a good thing too, because I almost forgot that I’ll probably never see that man again. I can’t wait until I’m not hairy anymore, incidents like this are happening more frequently and I can only imagine what the seamstress is going to be thinking tonight at my final dress fitting!

Just Say No

People, people, people.

I didn’t realize that this was such an epidemic in the world, but having sex with your brother-in-law or any in-law for that matter is just not acceptable!!! I think that I am more appalled that searching for “sex with sister-in-law pictures”, “I think my sister-in-law is sexy”, or “sister-in-law brother-in-law sex” is bringing you to my blog! Gross!

I hope being called out like this is sufficiently embarrassing for you and you stop googling/thinking about these things! Keep your sex life off of my blog, I do not need to know what you do in the “privacy” of your own home office.