Wednesday, September 21, 2011

She's a Dirty Girl, A Dirty Girl

I don't know exactly when me and Steven gave up. But at some point, we did. We don't clean our apartment. Not ever. Not at all. We are dirty people. Dirty, dirty people.

Tonight, a bug ran across the cushion of the guest chair in our living room. Now, I use the term "guest chair" loosely, assuming that if a guest ever did come over to our apartment, they would have to first move my notebooks, Steven's Redskins hat, and a shoe box from the said "guest chair" before they could sit down. The bug did not seem to mind the clutter, so I suppose the guest chair is for him. The bug is our guest. I realize that things have gotten bad when a bug runs aimlessly across your living room with no set agenda or real goals in life. (The food is in the kitchen, not on the living room guest chair...stupid bug!)

I could blame Steven. And he would just blame me. Hell, I've even blamed Brooklyn before for not keeping the kitchen floor 100% free of food crumbs. (I mean really, she is a beagle.) But honestly, we are all to blame. I'm a slob. Steven's a slob. And I've seen Brooklyn smell her own farts. We're all to blame.

I've got phobias. I won't touch wet washrags or sponges at all -- two key cleaning components. I know it sounds bizarre, but I'm more comfortable coming into contact with dirt and grime than soiled wash cloths, Comet, or bleach. Physically, I'm not a dirty person. I shower daily and keep my mouth freakishly clean, sometimes brushing 4 or 5 times a day. My teeth aren't just the cleanest things on my body, but quite possibly, the entire world as well. I just don't like to clean the house. And this could be the core of my greatest Cleaning is work and I only like to work at work. I know a lot of women enjoy cleaning; find it a release for stress. I find The Real Housewives of New Jersey a release for stress. Most women clean because they don't like a dirty house. I don't mind a dirty house. In fact, I've always enjoyed having male roommates because they don't give a crap how dirty the house gets. If we clean the bathroom once every other month, that's considered a triumph worthy of a case of beer and a Papa Johns pizza. I'm sure living in a clean house has it's benefits, but I can't think of one that outweighs me wallowing in my own pool of laziness.

Honestly, I am a dirty person. I think this would surprise most people. (Not my mom, of course, who used to make "absurd" accusations against me in my youth. My mom, who apparently has a Physics Degree in Dusting, once theorized that the living room was constantly dusty because the air conditioning vent was sucking all the dust out of my bedroom and shooting it into the living room. See, absurd.) But yes, I am a dirty and lazy person. For example, if I'm making a sandwich and a bit of jelly drips on the kitchen counter, how would you think I would clean that up? If you answered, "She would wipe it up with her finger and then let her dog lick it off her hand," then you are correct. That's how I clean up everything. I wipe it up with my hand and then I let Brooklyn lick it off. Presto, it's cleano! I've honestly considered picking up my small dog and placing her on the kitchen counter, just to see what she could accomplish. I'm almost impressed with my ingenuity in slob laziness. I am literally a human trash compactor. I'm an absolute whiz at smashing the garbage down in the bathroom trashcan so tight, that it's unnecessary to take out the trash for a weeks at a time. Landfills, you're welcome.

Steven is a whole nother case in slob-i-ness. I won't go into too much of his private business because he is asleep and can't defend himself. But I will blame his uncleanliness on two basic things -- trash purgatory and nut sack powder. For whatever reason, Steven can't throw things away. He just can't. He can open our mail, he can read our mail, but he can't throw the mail away. Old shoes? Keeps them. Broken pens, torn jeans, dead batteries, every paycheck stub since he was 16? He keeps all that stuff. Instead of ending up IN the trashcan, things sort of accumulate AROUND the trashcan. Hence the term, trash purgatory. If Steven puts something down on the coffee table, it won't just stay there for a few days, but for the rest of eternity. Me and Steven have no need to ever bury a time capsule in the backyard, our apartment is a time capsule of everything that Steven has ever come in to contact with.

The second problem is nut sack powder. Steven has a lot of sensitive skin issues. So after he showers, he douses himself with an assortment of medicated powders. There are powders for his feet, his legs, and my favorite...his nuts. And there is no polite way to apply nut sack powder, he's working with sensitive equipment at an odd angle, so he just blasts those things like he's putting out a chemical fire. The effect is that a constant haze of powder glazes our entire bathroom. You know in early spring when pollen covers every inch of your car? That's what it's like, except it's in our bathroom and it's not just in the's always nut sack powder season in our house! I get special pleasure knowing that before the powder settled on our bathroom floors, sink, and toilet, that at one point in time it all came in contact with Steven's balls. I know, that as a women, this should upset me. But I just think it's funny as hell!

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Eat Your Heart Out Lassie

I think it's only bad luck for the groom to see the bride's dress before the wedding. I don't think there are any rules concerning the Official Bridal Dog's coordinating bridal accessories*. And so I present to you...Brooklyn, in all her accessorized glory!
(That's not a look of misery on her face, she only emulates the sexy scowl of her canine modeling icon, Droopy the Dog.)

*These great items are not available in stores. Because my mom made them!

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Jimmy Kimmel: Regretfully Declines

I sent out wedding invitations to President Obama, Oprah and Jimmy Kimmel. No word yet from Obama or Oprah, but check out what we got in the mail this past week.

Only one word to describe this...awesome!

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Wedding FAQ

You've probably just got your wedding invite, and you might have some questions. So let's see if we can answer a few things.

I lost my invite already. When's your wedding?
Saturday, May 14th, 2011 at 3pm

Is the wedding on the beach?
Yes, the wedding ceremony is happening directly on the beach in Sandbridge in Virginia Beach. The reception is going to be immediately after in a beach house called the Four Seasons. Here is the link if you want to check it out. If there is bad weather (hopefully not, but in case there is) we picked a house that is large enough to accommodate the wedding indoors. So the wedding is on...rain or shine.

What should I wear?
I'd say beachy casual or preppy casual. Sun dresses, capri pants, khaki pants with polo shirts, etc. Those are all good examples. Think of what you'd wear to a Mother's Day brunch or to a high school graduation if it wasn't your kid graduating. You want to try a little, but not too much. If you are worried about being too dressed up, just ask yourself this -- would this outfit work with sandals or flip flops? If the answer is no, then you might be overdressed. If you are worried about being underdressed, then ask yourself this -- would I wear this on laundry day? If the answer is yes, then change.

What kind of shoes should I wear?
Something that would work well on the sand and on a wooden deck. High heels? Not a good idea.

What kind of underwear should I wear?
I recommend undergarments that are super hero inspired.

What will the weather be like on your wedding day?
I have no idea. Let's all hope for sunny, 74 degrees, with minimal cloud cover. But...this is Virginia Beach and the beach can be chilly at times. A quick check of and bringing along a light cardigan and/or a hoodie is never a bad idea.

Are kids welcome?
Yes. This will be a very kid friendly wedding.

Can I bring my girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband/partner?

I have a grumpy old man that lives next to me, who never gives out candy at Halloween, can I bring him as my guest?
No. Don't bring that guy. He's a jerk.

Can we park at the beach house?
No. There is no parking at the beach house, and there is also no on-street parking either. Please park at the public parking lot on the corner of Sandbridge Road and Sandpiper Road. Just take the right on Sandpiper Road and the public lot is right next to the market. We have arranged for an SUV to shuttle guests from the parking lot to the beach house. The SUV will be a white Suburban provided by Orange Peel Transportation, so that's what you're looking for. The SUV will begin to shuttle guests from 2pm until 4pm, and then again from 6pm until 10pm. If you need to return to your car during that two hour gap in service, then just let one of our family members know and we can arrange something.

Are you registered anywhere?
No. Steven and I have been living together (in sin) for 3 years now, so we honestly do not need anything. We have everything you could possibly cram into a crappy little apartment (i.e. plates, knives, mixers, blenders, potato peelers, wine glasses, etc). We honestly don't need anything. Which brings me (not so subtly) to what we really need...Money! Truthfully, we really just want money. I know that sounds crude, but we have a solid reason for craving the cash. We're looking to get a house. The market is great right now, and we want to save up for a down payment on a house. Owning a home is mine and Steven's dream. We've been saving for the wedding and honeymoon for the past two years, so immediately after the wedding we are going to begin saving for a house. We love our apartment (its modest and affordable), but's a real dump. We've got rats and raccoons in the attic, a leaky ceiling, a potential mold problem, and a back yard that is too small, even for a lazy dog. It's time to move on. Any sort of financial gift which would help us save for our dream of owning a home would be appreciated beyond words.

I'm not helping you buy a house. So what else can I give as a gift?
For our honeymoon, we're going to Sandals Montego Bay in Jamaica. You can check it out, here. It's an all-inclusive resort, so all food and drinks are included, but there are some extra activities that are available for upgrade. Cool things like horseback riding on the beach, ziplining, sailing, spa services. You can check out all the extra activities here and all the spa services here. If you'd like, you can contribute to our honeymoon experience by contacting our travel agent Kandi Edelstein at CI Travel at 888-627-8000 or e-mailing her at It's pretty cool because you can purchase us specific services/activities as a super awesome gift or just throw a couple bucks our way to help pay for an upgrade. Regardless, Kandi is super friendly and a really great travel agent (she's been to Jamaica like 40 times!), so don't be afraid to call her (not just for our honeymoon), but for your own travel needs.

I'm not paying for your honeymoon either, you jerks. So, give me another gift idea.
Fine. Fine. Fine. If you really are compelled to buy us an actual physical gift (other than the gift of a beautiful home, or the gift of a treasured experience), then may I suggest...a gift card to a gas station. I'm not joking. Gas is crazy expensive. Steven works 6 to 7 days a week, and he has a lengthy commute, so we spend a small fortune on gasoline every month. A gas card would be a gift sent from petroleum heaven. And if you gave us a gas card, you'd have the added pleasure of telling everybody you gave us gas for our wedding. A story sure to get a good chuckle at your next dinner party.

Will there be alcohol at your wedding?
Yup, there will be beer, margaritas, and your boozy basics (i.e. tequila, vodka, rum, whiskey).

But I like to get down with a very specific brand of alcohol and/or mixer.
If there is something that you just HAVE to have when you drink, then don't be shy about bringing it with you. There will be plenty of alcohol provided at the reception. But if you can't have a fun time without your acai and blueberry-infused vodka martini, then by all means...bring it. Nobody will look down on you and nobody will give you the stink eye. This is a super casual wedding with a party-type vibe, so don't be shy.

When I go to weddings, I tend to drink too much and make bad decisions.
We want people to have fun and enjoy themselves at our wedding, but we don't want ANYBODY driving drunk. We will have phone numbers at the wedding for taxi cab services. Also, anybody that doesn't feel safe to drive after the wedding is more than welcome to crash at one of the beach houses. We're not promising everybody a room or a bed, but there is ample floor space and a few comfy looking couches. The important thing is that everybody has a good time without putting themselves, or anybody else, in danger.

I'm looking at the wedding invite, at the response card. There is a line with just the letter "M" next to it, what the heck does that mean?
That's not a dumb question. A lot of people have this question. That's where you write in your name with your courtesy title, i.e. Mrs. Kathie Lee Gifford, so we know who this response card is from. I don't know why it's done this way, just is.

Where it says, "Number of Persons Attending," do I count myself?

I noticed that there are pools at the beach house. Can we go swimming?
Yup. The outdoor pool will probably be too cold in May, but there is a heated indoor pool, so feel free to bring your bathing suit if you like. Especially if you have kids, bring their swim trunks. They'll love it. (But don't forget some towels.)

Who gets to stay at the beach houses? Especially the nice one?
Ooopf. We get this question more than we'd like, and it leads to uncomfortable answers. The short answer is: the houses are for out-of-town guests. And out-of-town does not mean Norfolk, Virginia. The houses (especially the nice one) are for our wedding guests that are traveling a great way to spend the weekend celebrating with us and are traveling from absurdly named places such as Valaparaiso or Kalamazoo or Texas. The long answer is: We have rented two houses and depending on how many out-of-towners there are, there might be extra rooms. But we don't know for sure and probably won't until right before the wedding. So if you are local, plan on not getting a room at a beach house, and then you'll just be pleasantly surprised if a room becomes available. Regardless of room assignments, everybody is welcome to hang out at the beach houses all weekend long. And just because you don't get to stay at a beach house doesn't mean you aren't welcome to crash at one the night of the wedding, you just won't necessarily have a room.

Who picks the rooms? And when?
Me and Steven. And probably not until everybody RSVPs.

I'm one of these famous out-of-towners that you speak of, and I'm trying to plan my trip. When will the beach houses be available?
We have the houses from Friday, May 13th at 3pm until Monday, May 16th at 10am

Should I bring my own towels? Sheets?
Don't worry about sheets, but only a limited number of towels are in the houses, so it doesn't hurt to have 1 or 2 extra.

Where can I look at pictures of these houses?
Just click the links, Four Seasons and Young

If you have any questions that weren't answered then feel free to post them here. (I've changed some settings, so it's easier to post comments.) Somebody else may have the same questions as you. Or you can e-mail me at or Steven at

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Wardrobe Malfunction

Steven's brother Greg is marrying us. (I'll give you a moment to let that sink in.) Whenever I tell people this, it always gets a dramatic reaction. I get a lot of, "REALLY?" and "Naw, now way" and "Wait....are you serious?" I'm not sure why this is so surprising to people.

The breakdown is simple: Me and Steven aren't religious and don't attend church, which would deem us using a priest/minister as false and bogus. Wedding officiants can be quite costly. State law only allows marriage officiants to charge you $50 to perform the ceremony, BUT there are no guidelines on how much they can charge you for "travel and mileage expenses." So typically, it could cost $200 to $300 for a total stranger to marry you. So why not use somebody we know? Greg seems like the perfect guy. He's typically on time. Reliable. He doesn't get nervous in front of people. And he has a ridiculously loud voice....easy to hear and understand. And since we aren't having a traditional bridal party, Greg's role as minister is way cooler and more important than him serving as Best Man anyway. So Rev Greg it is.

But what should Greg wear? This very question has caused a lot of debate between me and Steven. At one point in time, I thought that Steven could pick out his own clothes for the wedding. But that point in time as passed. One week, Steven says he's wearing a full traditional tuxedo. And then the next week, he'll say he's wearing a khaki linen suit. At one point in time, he said he wanted to dress like Johnny Cash. I asked my cousin, Justin (the Brooklyn wrangler), what he wanted to wear to the wedding? He said his bathing suit. I realized then that I had to take away the boys' wardrobe responsibilities unless I wanted a wardrobe malfunction. If I let the guys decide what they're going to wear, then Steven would be dressed like Boss Hogg, Justin and Aiden like the Hazzard County Boys, and Greg like Roscoe P. Coltrane.

So plausibly, Steven is wearing a semi-formal tux with Justin and Aiden matching. But what the hell should Greg wear? Greg is going to be standing right next to me and Steven, so I don't want him dressed like Steven. I don't want it to look like there are two grooms. I know that polygamy is all the rage right now on basic cable, but not so much in Virginia Beach. I'm leaning towards Greg wearing an all black suit tux with a colored stole of some sort.

Don't know what I stole is? I didn't either until I Googled it. (How did brides plan weddings before the Internet?) It's a piece of material that clergy drape over their shoulders. Sorta like what honor students wear when they graduate. (In fact, it's exactly the same thing.) I found a site on the Internet that sold them called Church Supply Warehouse. You would think that a place with "Warehouse" in it's name would be cheap wouldn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. Those things are crazy expensive. They range from anywhere from $75 to thousands and thousands of dollars. And it seems that the more money you are willing to pay, the uglier of a stole you are rewarded with. I found some seriously butt ugly stoles. There is one called the "Children of the World" stole that is just littered with cartoon kids faces ala the It's a Small World ride at Disney World. It's $149. To have a push-button chip installed that actually plays "It's a Small World" is an additional $39.99. (I made that last part up, by the way.)

Check out this fine garment to the left here. How much would you pay for such an attractive lime green smock? Well, make room in your closet because this hot little number is coming to your house for just $4,995! Bargain!

Not only are some of the prices ridiculous, but there are two categories of stoles -- deacon stoles and priest stoles. I tried to do some research and figure out the difference, but all I got was a bunch of websites with a lot of words, not a lot of pictures, and a ton of dense religious history and philosophy. So I abandoned my research and decided that the difference between deacon stoles and priest stoles is about $30.

But I gotta admit, I'm really starting to enjoy clergy stoles. Sometimes I think to myself -- if I was a dental hygienist would I wear silly scrubs with cartoon teeth making goofy faces on them? Or would I wear monochromatic scrubs, so that people would take my profession more seriously? Maybe I'd wear overly tight scrubs to show off my boobs? I think about these things sometimes. So naturally I started to think -- if I was a priest, what sort of stole would I wear? I decided I would definitely wear this one. It's called the "Sacred Heart of Jesus" stole, but I think it should be called the "Superman Jesus" stole because he's ripping his shirt open just like Clark Kent in a phone booth. Right now my mom is reading this and thinking, "Laaaaaaaacy, watch it. Don't talk about Jesus. You're gonna offend somebody."

Okay, fine. No offending anybody. So how am I gonna end this blog then? Oh, I know. I'll freak the crap out of Greg. Cause this is the stole I'm gonna have him wear!

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

With Warts & All

I've got a wart on my left hand. How I got it? I don't know. Too many interactions with frogs I suppose. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, but the wart is on the same hand as my ring finger. And since I'm getting married in 4 months, that makes it a really big some people.

For whatever reason, there are two people that are troubled by my wart more than most. My mom. And Matt, this guy I work with. I have a theory as to why my wart bothers them more than most people (including even myself). Have you ever heard of the phrase, "There's nothing worse than a reformed whore?" Well, that's Matt and my mom -- reformed wart whores. At one point in time, they both had warts. Matt's was on his hand and my mom's was on her knee. They both fought a brave battle against their warts and won. So now, they are spreading their anti-wart message, and my ring-hand wart is a primary target.

Matt has purchased me a ton of anti-wart creams and freezing sprays. Sometimes at work, he'll have these little wart interventions with me. They always start the same, with him saying, "Now, don't take this personally...." and always end with him presenting me with a cornucopia of various ointments and sprays. The problem is what comes in the middle of the intervention, which is typically the tale of how he triumphantly destroyed his own wart. I will spare you the practical information as to how he got rid of his wart, and focus instead on the gorey details which include part of his hand turning black, and a large hunk of raw flesh being ripped off his hand with duct tape. You're welcome.

My mom, being related to me, feels the need to be a lot less polite and subtle about my wart situation. Typically, she says things such as "that thing is disgusting" or "you better get that thing off of there before you get married or you're gonna regret it for the rest of your life." Then, like Matt, she gives me the anti-wart creams and freezing sprays.

I will admit, I do not like this wart on my hand. It's incredibly unsightly and embarrassing. When people ask to see my engagement ring, I instinctively turn my thumb down (the location of my wart) and make the number 4 sign, so they can't see it. I do not like this wart on my hand. Not at all. If I had a magic wish, I would wish it away. But there are a lot of things in life that I would wish for. I wish Brooklyn wouldn't pick fights with her water bowl. I wish Steven wouldn't fart so much. I wish I could understand everything my boss, Vinnie, says to me. I wish that Ben Roethlisberger would make better decisions during the off season. I wish that the price of Red Bull would go down. And I wish that they would bring coconut syrup back to Starbucks. All of those things I would wish for over my wart disappearing.

And I have tried to remove my wart to no avail. Under the advice of Matt and my mom, I followed a wart removal plan that lasted about 3 months. It was horribly painful and tedious. During those 3 months, I had to soak my wart in water, file down the skin with a nail file, put salycic acid on the wart, and wrap it in duct tape and/or flesh colored skin tape. And don't listen to my mom -- it was painful. Whenever somebody tells you that something "doesn't hurt" that means it does hurt. Because if it didn't really hurt, you wouldn't feel the need to say anything. You don't ever say, "I put on a soft plush robe yesterday. But it didn't hurt." Or "I ate a piece of warm apple pie yesterday. But it didn't hurt." Well, no duh it didn't hurt. But getting a tattoo? Dental surgery? Getting stitches? Or having a wart removed? Yeah, that stuff hurts. And don't believe people when they say it doesn't.

So after 3 months of my wart removal plan, guess what I have now? Two warts! Yup, my lone wart, now has a wart friend and they are neighbors. Twins actually. They're Geminis.

So I made an appointment with a dermatologist. There's only 4 months till the wedding and it's crunch time. Right when I pulled into the parking lot of the dermatologist office, I had a bad feeling. There were confused and wandering old people all over the place. Like one of those retirement center vans had just dropped them off and let them fend for themselves. It looked like the final scene of Cocoon minus Steve Guttenberg and the alien spaceship. I consider confused and wandering old people to be a bad sign for any medical practice. To me it just reeks of insurance fraud. I mean, this is a dermatologist office, they aren't exactly coming here to clear up their skin before prom. So what else is there -- skin cancer? If it's skin cancer, then why the hell aren't their children or grandchildren bringing them to their appointments?!? Ugh, creating imaginary life stories and projecting it onto strangers sure does get me riled up.

I considered ditching the appointment all together, but I've never done that before and didn't want to chance the "we need 48 hours of cancellation notice or you will be charged" policy. My doctor seemed nice enough. She was a very attractive female doctor that looked to be in her late-30s. If she was on a fictional ABC medical drama, I wouldn't imagine her to be the female lead, but a strong secondary character with a romantic storyline and a mysterious backstory. If my Papaw was still alive, he'd describe her as a "pretty lady doctor." But like 99.9% of doctors in real life, she was incredibly distracted and impersonal from the very second she entered the exam room. Which makes me wonder, why do doctors even have exam rooms anymore? Not a lot of examining goes on, either physically or verbally.

Our interaction went about like this:

Pretty Lady Doctor: You got a wart on your left hand? (She says this while standing across the room with her clipboard. She doesn't actually come over and look at my wart at all or even ask to see it)
Me: Yup, on my thumb
Pretty Lady Doctor: Well, there are several treatment options, which basically means that there isn't one good option that works in a completely satisfactory way.
Me: I'm getting married in May. Do you think it will be gone by then because I don't want it to look worse than it does now when I get married?
Pretty Lady Doctor: How long have you had it?
Me: A year. (A little white Lacy lie, I've actually had it about 3 years.)
Pretty Lady Doctor: Well, it's not gonna be gone by May if you've had it a year. Probably about a year if it goes away at all. (I swear that while she says this she sighs and rolls her eyes a bit.)
Me: Do you think I should do it then? I'm getting married in May.
Pretty Lady Doctor: (Ignores my question) I will freeze it in-office, and then when you go home you will have to do this daily at-home treatment. (She hands me a piece of paper with the recommended home treatment, which is exactly the same wart removal plan that Matt and my mom had me do, right down to the duct tape.) Then once a month, you will come back up here to see me so we can continue to do the in-office treatment.
Me: Do you think it will be gone by May or look worse?
Pretty Lady Doctor: When are you getting married?
Me: May
Pretty Lady Doctor: No, it will not be gone by May and there is a good possibility that it will look worse than it does now. (As she says this, she has grabbed what looks like a whip cream container full of freezing spray, heads towards me and grabs my hand)

Zack Morris-Style Time Out!

I just want to point out that at this moment, when she crossed the room with the freezing spray, was the first time she ever actually looked at my wart(s). Secondly, she did not come in the room with the freezing spray. It was already on a counter in the room, and she didn't change the nozzle on it or anything. Perhaps a nurse set this up before hand, or perhaps dermatologists just keep a can of freezing spray on the counter and randomly freeze things off people (i.e. warts, moles, skin tags) all day long with the same tainted nozzle. Gross. Thirdly, why is she telling me it's not going to work by my wedding and will probably look worse, and still assuming that I'm going to go through with this?

I actually yanked my hand away from her.

Me: No, I'm not gonna do it. I'll just pay my co-pay and leave now. Thanks. (I start to get up)
Pretty Lady Doctor: Wait. Let me measure the wart first.(Now you want to do an exam? Now that I'm leaving?)

She took out this wart ruler from a drawer; it looked like one of those protractors from school. Not the practical dorky kind that you'd do actual math with. But the kind you would get at the school book fair, where they were clear blue and had cut-out shapes on them like stars and rainbows and stuff. Well, this one had like cut-out shapes of warts and skin lesions and other gross things. She matched up my twin warts to a cut-out and sent me on my way, but not without collecting my $40 co-pay.

I exited into the parking lot with a sinking feeling of defeat. I still had my warts and I was now $40 poorer. Regardless, I'm still getting married in 4 short months. And Steven is going to have to marry this girl...with warts and all.