Hello world! I’ve been off again, doing real-life things and ignoring all things c-related, but I have a super excellent excuse this time: I’m getting married!!! In July!! aaaahhiiiiieeeeeee!!! So, there’s no cancer stuff below–just girly squeeing and complaining about how expensive porta john rentals are these days.
I want to pet it and squeeze it and hug it and name it George!!
Let’s begin with the girly squeeing. I love my ring. I LOVE IT! It’s unexpected and it’s unique and it’s beee-you-tiful, I tell you! Wait, I won’t tell you–I’ll show you: Look to your right! No, your other right! There you go. Right there. Isn’t it pretty? Don’t you love it? Yes! Yes, you do.
So, as you may have guessed, I am very emotional at this time in my life. VERY EMOTIONAL. The word ‘bridezilla’ has been bandied about with my name (jokingly, thank goodness), but you know, it got me to thinking…WeTV has more or less ruined having the occasional (and I think very normal) bouts of The Dramas that we get when something huge is happening in our lives–like, oh…a wedding.
I’ve always maintained that the Bridezilla television show would be so much more satisfying if the horrible women who star in it got left at the alter. I mean, I’d WATCH that show, because I love a good comeuppance. Sadly, they do not get left, and those of us who like to see karma coming around to kick people in the shins when they deserve it are left unsatisfied. I don’t get the women who say “I’M A BRIIIIDEZILLLA!” with such obvious glee and pride. Are there women to aspire to be that horrendous to the people around them? Am I supposed to be demanding and crazed and unreasonable–am I doing the bride thing incorrectly if I’m not? There’s even a quiz on the main page of their site–I guess I need an online quiz to ascertain the level of bridal douchebaggery that lurks deep within my soul.
Aw, we’re happy.
That said, I AM in a high state of nervousness–who wouldn’t be? But, thus far, I haven’t taken it out on any poor unsuspecting souls who cross my path. I’m not so much a Bridezilla as I am a Lenny. I cannot do ANYTHING. I’m forgetful, I’m slow, I’m incapable of focusing on anything remotely difficult or intricate. I break things without meaning to. I’m sitting around with a dopey grin on my face most of the time and not getting ANYTHING done. Seriously, M put a ring on my hand, and I think my IQ dropped 20 points.
I may have to revisit this post in 3 weeks and see if I still feel all dopamined up and lumberingly happy. Who knows? My inner Bridezilla may be waiting in the wings to pounce on the first poor, unsuspecting soul who brings me red gerbera daisies with slightly browned edges. Or, I’ll break into a stream of unbridelike expletives the next time I’m told I have to rent a porta-john for FOUR days when I actually only need it for one day. I mean, seriously. Four days? Also, stop telling me I need at least 3 of them. It’s a wedding, not Coachella.
Fancy outhouses notwithstanding, at the end of the day, I’ve decided that if M and I walk away from this shindig as a fully fledged married couple, then it’s been a success. I could not be happier with my choice of partner. He’s some kind of wonderful, that boy.
a little c 