Shut the Front Door

can we talk about chatty cathy at davids bridal for a minute??? i get that all girls want to talk about themselves but seriously, my impending wedding should be the only topic of interest at a bridal salon. the conversation about my choice of hair accessories trumps your cute little tale about your current hair color. and dont tell me that a yellow chiffon tea length bridesmaid dress isnt flattering on any body type, what if that had been what i wanted. this girl talked so much. i was literally pushing my bm back into the dressing room with one hand and trying to shut the door with the other, and friggin joan rivers wouldnt let me shut the door. she was going on and on about her hair and her weight and omg, i seriously almost flipped my lid right there in front of all the other stupid smiling people. o ya, then i go to pick up my wedding dress, and she brings it to me in a clear plastic bag. i was like, umm... my fiance is going to see this, can you put it in a garment bag. she was like, um that will be 10 dollars just wait in that line and you can pay that cashier. im spending thousands of dollars at your store and you cant give me a bag, and i have to wait in line for 10 more minutes?!?! whatevs. seriously, im supposed to be all shiny and happy and all engage-y, but sometimes i really dont want to wear the matching pink 'bride' and 'mother of the bride' hats my mom got me. but, im the only daughter so i put the hat on and try to smile. but seriously if i see one more clothing article with 'bride' spelled out in rhinestones im gonna go ba-nan-nas!!

groomzilla hoodwinked me!

ive spent the last six and a half years 'training' my fiance to be the perfect husband. i shop for his clothes, buy his cologne, make him wash his face, and tell him when he's being a nerd. ive gotten him out of his comfort zone by trying new things, traveling new places and learning to do all kinds of things. i give him tips about how to be romantic and what to buy me for anniversaries, what movies and what dimly-lit restaurants to take me to. basically, im pretty proud of myself. well, at least until i realized that something might be going on! i find myself listening to grungy rock music, playing video games, going to poker games, watching hours and hours of basketball, and going to see every freaking scary movie that comes out! what happened?? how do i know all of the street fighter characters and the names of the nba players and the coaches??? how do i know how to play the first few chords of smoke on the water on the guitar? why would i rather go eat pizza and see a tarantino movie?? instead of talking about what color i should die my hair or paint my nails or asking him which pair of shoes i should buy, we talk about what level we will be able to get a sniper rifle on, or our top five hendrix songs. my ideal night is wearing flip flops and hanging with the guys. he's has me right where he wants me. dang it!

me=0

him=1

the bridal nazis

So this is my very first post on my new blog so im pretty stoked. I'm pretty sure no one will ever read slash care about what i write, but at least i can vent about my life's going ons and not be stoned in the street. Anyway, back to the zombie nazis at a local bridal salon. First off, i am not, nor do i want to be princess di. I dont want a 6 foot sheet dragging along behind me. I mean, hello!! It's called a 'train' need i say more? i cant even walk across the room without tripping when i have pants on, much less a parachute. i do not want tinsel sewn into any garment i own, and for god's sake if you put tiara on me, do not expect to get it back in one piece. When i went to this said bridal salon, i said "no satin, no trains, and no tiaras please" I was then tied, strangled, and beaten into submission by a 4 foot lady named candelaria {not kidding} she grabbed me in places that have never been grabbed. seriously. 15 minutes later, after i was finally in the dress, trying to ignore the footprint-shaped bruises on my back, i stepped out of the dressing room to see a friggin snow beast in what else than a satin princess number with a train too big for the room. "ok mami" she said after she'd had her way with me, "leh me go geet a tiar' for you beautiful hairs."  HUH? needless to say, i left with no dignity intact and a slight twitch.