The Real Sneak Peek: Bridal Photos

Janaan sent me this text last night:

“Hey! Why don’t you stop blogging about how awesome you look and start blogging about NYC?”

Touché sister. Touché.

I really do need to write about NYC and other incredibly important stuff like my new favorite word (Amazeballs!) and my love of The Vito sandwich at Jimmy John’s.

Until then, enjoy more of how awesome I look at A Yummy Life.

Jodi, Kate, Tiffany – I owe you. Big time.

I Love You Jodi Palmer! (A super duper sneak peek at bridal photos.)

I probably shouldn’t post this picture but I can’t help it! If Alek sees, so be it! 
If I look across the sum whole of my life there are a handful of photos of me that I love. 4 out of the 5 were taken by Jodi Palmer. (The 5th is my original California Drivers License. How random and incredible is that???)
My friend Tiffany (Who deserves full credit for the way I look in this photo, BTW. I only dare to dream I could learn to apply my make-up like this.) said that we should make our wedding the “Come as You Are” wedding. Meaning, we are not going to crash diet. We are not going to feel really bad about how we should have worked out more. We are not going to think we can solve all of our problems through tanning. We are not going to do something crazy with our hair to compensate. 
On my wedding day we are all (me included) going to look in the mirror, give thanks for being alive, say we are ENOUGH just as we are right now, LOVE what we see, put on a sparkly dress and some high-heeled shoes and have a GREAT TIME.

The Come As You Are Wedding.

Yes. I am most definitely on board with that.

After being en fianced for nearly a year, I weigh EXACTLY the same amount as I did the day we got engaged. (Come to think of it, I weigh EXACTLY the same amount as I did 5 years ago and 10 years ago.) I have the same skin, same hair, same semi-dead big toenails from too much running with too little training. Same dry, wrinkly hands. Same everything.
But I’m happier. I’m healthier. I’m more in LOVE. I’m more ENGAGED. I’m more ALIVE. There’s something about Jodi’s pictures of me that show me that the outside me matches the inside me, no matter how much self-doubt I may feel.
I don’t really have the words, so I’ll just say I Love You Jodi Palmer. Oh, and THANKS.

The Cruise Feeling

I am sick today. SICK. Like I’m currently sitting on the couch watching Far and Away, surrounded on all sides by wadded up Kleenex, empty tea/orange juice/chocolate milk cups, half eaten bowls of Lipton chicken noodle soup, and Ny/DayQuil wrappers SICK. Oh, and there’s the resident pile of laundry that I haven’t folded as well. Right now I’m not folding it because I’m sick, you see.

If I’m totally honest, I was starting to get sick on Tuesday. But I told myself “I don’t have time to get sick.” So there.  Then on Wednesday I had a 4 AM wake-up call for a 6:25 AM flight to L.A. followed by meetings all day in a FREEZING hotel ballroom (FREEZING!!!!) followed by a 9:00 PM flight home with a midnight arrival. Then on Thursday I slept through four conference calls and I had to admit it, I was SICK. I think I am just run down because no one else is sick. At least that’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t feel bad about all those people on the two planes and all the lovely people in my meetings and all the lovely people of Los Angeles.

Ugh. I don’t have time to be sick right now.

In any case, the sickness has given me the opportunity to finish Bossypants. Bossypants is funny. Damn funny. Goddamn funny. Just the dust jacket was hilarious.

And the cherry on top of all of that hilarity? I’ve finally, FINALLY found someone in the universe that feels the same way that I do about cruises. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. I HATE CRUISES.

Indulge me in a little rewind. My X and I went on a cruise for our honeymoon. And we both hated it. HATED IT. If I haven’t made myself clear, I  !@#$%-ing hated this cruise. Oh my god you have no idea. And he hated it just as much. See, you’re met at the airport by someone with a clipboard, then you wait for an hour for all of the other yahoo’s that are arriving. Then you’re all herded like cattle onto a bus. Then after an endless ride to the ship, you are herded onboard. Then you’re herded to your “cabin,” which is basically like a glorified RV. A small, small RV. We did have a “balcony.”  (Yes, I used air quotes on purpose.)

Since we were on our honeymoon, they went ahead and pushed our two beds together. Awww.

Then you are herded of your cabin for a “safety briefing.” Then herded outside to the pool. Herded to dinner. Herded all around that goddamn boat with 1,000 other people. Trapped on a floating prison with hundreds and hundreds of drunk and sunburned cattle. For days and days.

The funny thing was that the moment I saw chicky with the clipboard in the baggage claim, I knew I didn’t want to go on that cruise. And so did My X. But neither of us said anything. Later on when we both admitted that we hated the cruise and we didn’t really want to go from the first moment. We laughed-ish about it. Ish. And thus “The Cruise Feeling” was born.

The Cruise Feeling is basically that vibe you get when you know you don’t really want to do something. Like you walk into a restaurant you’ve never eaten at before and there are crickets chirping and you get this vibe and you think “Ulgh, this is NOT gonna be good.” That’s The Cruise Feeling. So rather than make up some big story, you simply say, “I have The Cruise Feeling.” And you bolt. No apologies. You’ll find most of the time that when you have The Cruise Feeling, everybody else does too. All of us use this phrase now. It’s quite catchy.

Also, I told Alek early on that I never ever want to go on another cruise and if that was a show stopper, well, it was a show stopper. That’s how much I hated cruising. Luckily, it wasn’t a show stopper. (Hey, if he wants to go on a cruise, he can go cruise his brains out. I just won’t be going along.)

Which brings me back to Bossypants. Tina Fey and her husband went on a cruise for their honeymoon too, because he does not like to fly. They did not love the cruise. Also, their boat caught on fire. (Sidebar: I think that a lot of people are disappointed in their cruise experience, but for some reason we all keep perpetuating this awesome cruise myth. Like the the myth that the movie Armageddon was good or that bebop jazz makes sense.) 

Like everything else she talks about in the book, Tina Fey hits the nail on the head:

“But I shall not cruise again. Luxury cruises were designed to make something unbearable – a two-week transatlantic crossing – seem bearable. There’s no need to do it now. There are planes. You wouldn’t take a vacation where you ride on a stagecoach for two months but there’s all-you-can-eat shrimp. You wouldn’t take a vacation where you have an old-timey appendectomy without anesthesia while steel drums play. You might take a vacation where you ride on a camel for two days if they gave you those animal towels wearing your sunglasses.”

Shazam! Me and the Devil*

This song is dark and dreamy and delicious and mysterious and just a little bit dirty and raw enough to make you ache. I’m in love.

(*No, snarky fans on YouTube, I hadn’t heard this song before I saw last week’s episode of True Blood. What do you care anyway? You can’t keep Gil Scott-Heron to yourselves. So there.)

The Story of Me and Alek

Pretty much this is how it went down:

I bought a house. I needed some paint work done.
Mom and Dad said to call Alek.
Alek is THE BEST, they said. Alek is meticulous, they said.
Alek is FUN to talk to, they said. We LIKE Alek, they said.

The problem was, Alek didn’t call me back. FOR WEEKS.
Apparently, Alek was busy.

Busy in Spain and Italy and driving across the country on his Harley Davidson to see rock concerts and getting stuck in hurricanes. You know, being Alek.

So I got another painter.

And then Alek called me back.

He said: “Let me guess, you got another painter.”

“Yes,” I said.

He said: “Let me guess, the other painter started today.”

“Yes,” I said.

And then we started talking.

And Alek sounded FUN. And Alek sounded CUTE. And I LIKED talking to him. So I invited him to my housewarming party. What the hell? I thought.

But Alek didn’t want to wait for that long so he called me back and asked me on a date. A blind-ish date. He said we should go get a beer somewhere. I said we should meet-up early in the evening in case he didn’t like me, so then he could do something else that night.

He said: “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

So we went on a date. And I showed him my house. And the horrible paint job. “That’s not going to get any better.” He said. (And he was right.)

And we talked until midnight.

Alek is FUN, I thought. Alek is CUTE, I thought. I LIKE HIM.

I still think that today. I’ll know that I’ll still think that when we’re 90.

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