I once thought that getting married would be fun and exciting. I was sorely mistaken. It has quickly become a major ass pain. Hemorrhoidal, in fact.
I left this right here and forgot about it for nearly 24 hours. I blame the cold meds.
On an unrelated note, who knew that the word "hemorrhoids" was so fucking hard to spell? I mean really, those extra "r"s are a doozy. (And you should see me when I'm not hopped up on cold meds...) My brain is actually floating about 4 feet above and to the left of my head right now, and I have the urge to smack it.
I think that I was going to bitch to you, bitchy readers, about the trials and tribulations of the process of planning a wedding, specifically planning a wedding from 3000 miles away. Basically, I've lost the energy to type such a rant, but read this: If ever you decide to marry, just elope. It's for your own good and piece of mind. It's really the smart way to go. No worrying about what ever happened to the inner envelopes for the invitations (they don't come with inner envelopes), or where so-and-so has moved (please if you are reading this and have recieved a spiffy save-the-date magnet and have since had the misfortune to MOVE, make sure that your mail is being forwarded....), or what ever happened to the catalogue of perfect bridemaids dresses (I guarantee that your fiance has probably used it to either line the litter box or to mop up a spilled beer in your absence), or how to pay your friend the DJ who conveniently lives across the "pond" in the northern part of bloody England (it turns out that Western Union works over there, too), or what to register for when you're on the verge of a major move from the northeast to the midwest (whatever you damn well please, it turns out -- Gamecube, anyone?), or what fucking china pattern to pick out (turns out there's some fabulous deco-y china at Macy's that's sort of timeless and lacks the color pink and any sort of floral decor), and what goddamn silverware should accompany said fancy use-it-only-in-a-blue-moon china (haven't even gotten there yet, folks), or when to end your run-on sentence rant (when the cold meds run out). Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Sigh.
That is all.
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1 comment:
Yay! A new post!
Of course, now that I don't have internet and I'm not trapped in my office prison, it's a little less exciting.
Anyhow, hope that the moving is going well, sounds like those wedding plans are coming along just fine. It's like theatre--it all turns out fine in the end. My two cents worth of advice--just don't get married at all! Works for me :)
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