Archive for November, 2004

Nov 29 2004

The Wedding.

Well, it’s not a very good picture, but it’s all I can give you right now:

Once we get our 17 disposable cameras back and once the photographer has time to do his thing on the professional shots, I will post some more pictures of the wedding.

I really don’t know what to say about my wedding day. It went by in a total blur, which I hear is normal. Anyway, I’ll try and give the run down:

I woke up at Grandma’s house at about 8:30 AM because I was having a nightmare. The nightmare was basically that we were having the wedding on a cruise ship and the ship personnel wouldn’t let half the wedding party or the DJ on board. Some lady from the ship was basically playing any old music she thought of and other passengers were wandering in and sitting down, hanging out. The guys didn’t have their tuxes so they were wearing khakis and button-down shirts. No one thought anything was a “big deal” except for me, who was freaking out.

Once I showered and did my nails it was time to head to the mall to get my hair done. I drove around the mall parking lot for about 20 minutes and couldn’t find a space. I finally just parked somewhere and hauled ass inside – it was raining fairly hard and I was pissed off. I had no idea how I was going to get back to my car without ruining my hair. Vicki was already in the salon getting her hair done, but I was so upset that I just nodded at her and started dialing the cell phone. My nightmare had freaked me out and I had remembered that the DJ had never actually confirmed that he was going to be there. I called Chris and asked him to call the DJ and confirm. Several minutes later The Man called and said they couldn’t get a hold of the DJ and his number was disconnected. You can imagine how good this made me feel. The stylist could see that I was freaking out, and she told me she had a friend who DJed all the time and could play our wedding. Luckily, it turned out that we didn’t need to call in the reserve troops; the DJ we hired called us and confirmed that yes, he would be there. Somewhere in there, Mom showed up for her appointment, and she sat with me as I was getting my hair done. My stepdad went and got my car and picked me up at the door so I didn’t have to run through the rain. It took me an hour and 20 minutes to have my hair put up; once that was over I headed to the hotel.

View of the hotel from the golf course.

I met Mackers and her man (J.) as Vicki’s man (Scot) was helping me unload my car. Mackers and J. went up to my room with me and watched me chain smoke. Vicki and Scot came up a little later and brought me a stromboli and a litre of Pepsi. Apparently, The Man and his groomsmen showed up a half-hour early so Vicki and Scot let them take over their room so they could get ready. It was still only 4:30. I couldn’t believe how time was flying and dragging.

Nothing much happened between 4:30 and 6:00 except that the rest of my entourage arrived and pretty soon there were girls all over the place, doing their makeup, pinning up their dresses, shaking excess glitter out of their hair – Shawnsie’s stylist apparently mistook the statement “A little glitter would be good” for “How about a TON of glitter?” At around 6:00 my sister came in and told me the photographer wanted me downstairs and how come I wasn’t dressed yet? I hustled into my gown, the girls picked up their flowers, and we all trooped down to be photographed.

After that was over, the girls and I were hustled into a conference room because the guests were starting to arrive. It was cold in the room, but it felt good to me. I’d been sweating ever since 5:00 PM when I had been shut in the bathroom with Vicki and Mackers. The temperature had jumped to about 80 degrees in that one little room, and I had been wearing a fleece. Stylin kept popping in to see if we needed anything – he brought me some water, which probably saved my life. The photographer stopped in to take some “candid” shots, but pretty soon the doors to the ceremony room were closed, we were lining up in the hall, and I heard “Songbird” playing inside – the guys cue to enter and go to the front.

A couple minutes later “Canon in D” began and the girls started walking in. I was standing with my dad, waiting for the cue from the ushers to go. Dad told me he loved me, we got the nod from the ushers, and we started down the aisle. I had a hard time walking without tripping over my dress. Everyone sat down and the ceremony began. If you’re interested in how the ceremony went, you can click here; I recorded it for interested parties. And though I just called our celebrant “Celebrant” throughout, he is actually Zuchiboy’s husband, a friend of ours. He did an EXCELLENT job, and took care of us very well.

After the ceremony and the receiving line, we had MORE PICTURES, but once that was finally over the DJ introduced the wedding party and we could join the revelers at the reception. I have to say, I was stunned to see how many people were actually there, and I was touched that so many people came to be with us on our wedding day.

The reception lasted for five hours, impossible to summarize. I only sat down a couple of times, and I ate no food. I didn’t have the time! Also, The Man and I spent most of the evening apart, talking to different guests and trying to make sure that everyone saw at least one of us. Later, we tried to remember if we had talked to everyone and we couldn’t. We just hope that we got to talk to all of our guests.

Finally, at about 12:30 we said goodbye to the last stragglers. Stylin went into SUPERMODE and took care of everything for us: he got the gifts in the car, collected the disposable cameras that we had put on the table, made sure that we had the marriage license, my bouquet, and a thousand other details that we probably would have forgotten about. In short, he went above and beyond and we were really grateful that he was there. This left us free to cut out, so we went upstairs, changed our clothes, and headed to Shawnsie’s room for the “after party”. So many people crammed into a little room! We drank and talked and had a great deal of fun. We got back to our room at about 3 AM and collapsed.

Both The Man and I agree, the ceremony was surreal. It passed in a blur and it didn’t seem to be happening to us. It was like we were watching ourselves. We concentrated on speaking when we were told to, and speaking loudly enough so everyone could hear. Between times, we tried to keep from laughing because we were cracking each other up. Later, we decided that everyone cried at our wedding except for us. We were too giddy to cry. Lots of people told us that it was one of the most enjoyable weddings they had ever been to; they liked both the ceremony (short and sweet) and the reception (no loud music, and plenty of good food and booze). Trust me, I was beyond happy to hear that everyone was having a good time.

Now the aftermath: we have gifts to put away, thank-yous to write, and I have to legally change my name. But other than that, the wedding is over. It was a long time in the planning, and a short time in the executing! We had a lot of fun, and if you’re reading this, and you were there with us, we really appreciate you coming to support us.

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Nov 22 2004

Five days left.

Published by under Friends,Stupidity,The Man,Wedding

A quote from the previous entry:

What’s left? I have to buy the garland and stuff to decorate the arch. I think that’s it. I HOPE that’s it.

I’m just a simple person, aren’t I?

You see, last week, pretty much right after I submitted that entry, I was typing away happily on a piece of e-mail.  I wasn’t even thinking about the wedding.  I was thinking of an application we use here at work that I was whipping up some last-minute training on.  Happy typing, happy typing, what?!  A sudden thought strikes me!

WE HAVE NO MARRIAGE LICENSE.

We have no marriage license.  You can see why I was concerned.  Following is a transcript of the IM conversation that ensued:

Jas: Um, yeah, we don’t have a marriage license.
The Man: OH MY GOD.
The Man: We need to go to the courthouse RIGHT NOW.

So we did.  Well, we did after I went to lunch.  I mean, I was hungry.  The marriage license could wait for a little while, yes?  Anyway, we got to the courthouse, found the country clerk, and started filling out the “application” (really more of a questionnaire) for the license.  And right away we were stymied: we needed to know the date that our divorce(s) were final.  I’ve never been married before, but The Man has, and strangely he doesn’t keep the date of his divorce front and center in his mind.  So, we had to dash home, dig up his divorce papers, and dash back to the courthouse to complete the application.  I was a bit concerned because Vicki told me that when she went to get her license, they had to sit through some training videos on how not to contract an STD.  But the lady at the courthouse just handed us a pamphlet and told us to come back on Monday to pick up the license.  Score!

So, we have a marriage license waiting for us at the courthouse.  We have to pick it up today.  I also have to go out to the hotel today and hand them the Big Fat Check to pay for the wedding.

GETTING LOST, REDUX

In this episode of “MapQuest Royally Fucks Me”, we see our intrepid yet clueless heroine using MapQuest driving directions to get to her photographer’s home.  Hilarity ensues!

The last time I tried to find directions online, I ended up in the wrong city.  Somehow, that whole event was blocked from my mind, because Thursday afternoon found me happily typing in a destination address to MapQuest’s web site and printing out the directions.  I checked them over to see if I could get a picture in my head of the general area, and cemented in my mind that we would be driving to BFE, because I actually happened to know the area we were going, and it is nothing but farmland.  And, apparently, at least one house: our destination.  I didn’t worry too much, because The Man would be driving and I would only be the co-pilot.

Ah, the best laid plans…

Somewhere around 3 PM, The Man became embroiled in a work crisis of mammoth proportions dealing with some reports and some numbers and blah blah blah.  I don’t know.  Anyway, he would not be able to go with me to the photographers.  Which meant, unless I could find some backup, I would be going solo.  I. Don’t. Think. So.  Luckily, Michael was free and didn’t mind acting as co-pilot.  So, at about 5:15, we set out.

I had allowed us 45 minutes for what is normally a 25 minute drive.  My psychic powers must have been working that day, because 5:45 found us in the middle of goddamn NOWHERE, looking for an address that didn’t exist.  We checked house numbers obsessively, there was no 1915 BFE Road anywhere.  Actually, the house numbers danced around, sometimes skipping ahead 50 numbers and then inexplicably progressing by ones again.  When we hit the point where the road turned to a gravel two-track, I looked at Michael and calmly said “Goddamn MapQuest has fucked me again.”

At that point, we had to improvise.  Somewhere, MapQuest had sent us a wrong turn.  Looking over the directions, there was really only one point where we could have turned wrong, so I executed a three-point turn and headed back the other direction.  And I began to notice what was outside my windows – nothing.  Oh I take that back.  There was a sugar beet piling ground.  And a single tree.  I started to remember a horror story I had once read about a group of people who got trapped in a story by a twisted author, and every time they tried to leave the town, they encountered NOTHING.  I really wanted to get back to an area where there was at least a house, because my imagination was starting to freak me out.

The house numbers began falling again. . . and falling. . . and falling.  I actually saw a house numbered “60″.  60!  This may mean nothing to some of you, but in the country you just do NOT see a house numbered 60!  Country addresses are usually in the five-digit range.  Finally, we had to admit defeat.  I called The Man, he got me the photographer’s phone number, and I called him.  The photographer told me that he was “four houses north of M-BFE, and there is a red Blazer in the driveway”.  OK, we started backtracking very slowly, counting houses and looking for red Blazers.  And wouldn’t you know?  His house was right where it should be – smack dab between the houses labeled 60 and 2046.

After that, I had a very nice meeting with the photographer and Michael and I went back to my house to drink a lot of rum and recover from being lost in the country.  And I tried to forget that I couldn’t find a house less than 5 miles from where I used to live.

HAUSFRAU SCHAENFREUDE

I had to finish cleaning my house this weekend.  It wasn’t really dirty, since I had just dusted and whatnot the week before, but there are A Lot of People coming into town who have never seen the house, so I figured, better safe than sorry.  The worst part of cleaning was definitely the vacuuming.  For some reason, whenever I vacuum, I sweat profusely.  It’s not like it’s particularly hard work.  I have no idea why it happens, but it does.  And when I sweat and I’m wearing glasses, my glasses get all smudgy.  I must accidentally touch the lenses with my grimy fingers or something.  So, I’m zooming around the house like a madwoman, half-blind, stinky and dripping, trying not to kill my cats because they won’t get out of the way until you are RIGHT NEXT TO THEM with the damn LOUD vacuum.  And my hair is desperately trying to escape its ponytail holder, so I have to keep pushing it out of my eyes and it’s flying out all crazy from my head.  What a pretty mental picture you have right now.  Don’t you envy The Man his future wife?

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Nov 17 2004

Hello again.

Published by under Gaming,Introspection,Wedding

No, I didn’t die.  And no, the ladies at my wedding shower didn’t kill me.  I survived quite nicely.  Actually, I’m not sure why I haven’t been writing.  I keep meaning to, especially since I really do want a “chronicle” of the days leading up to the wedding.  It’s just that I’m having a hard time getting words out right now.

Let’s see, it’s been twelve freaking days since I last wrote something.  That’s ungodly.  Let’s start with the wedding stuff first.

THE WEDDING STUFF

The shower went well, I thought.  I felt kind of badly because I didn’t have time to go around and spend time with everyone there, but I did try to at least greet and say goodbye to all of them.  We ended up getting a TON of stuff just from the shower, so I had to have Vicki’s boyfriend help me pack my car.  Apparently he’s an expert packer.  I managed to get my thank-yous written and mailed this week, so they should arrive before the wedding.  Then I get to do it all again.

I got my dress back, and despite my fears, it looks great.  It fits wonderfully – and I can’t tell you how strange it was to put this dress on and have it FIT.  I’ve had my wedding dress for two or three years now, and I had to buy it way too big, because it was on clearance, and they only had BIG or TEENY.  But when I went to the seamstress last week, put the dress on, and it FIT, I was so amazed.  I mean, that’s why I took it there in the first place, but it just seemed weird.  The seamstress also added a bustle.  The dress has a small train, and there was no way to pick the train up for the majority of the night.  Weird.  So, she added some hooks and loops and now I can hook my train up – or rather, other people can hook it up for me.

My veil is still steaming away in the bathroom, not because it needs more steam, but because it is currently hanging five feet off the ground, which means it is remaining wrinkle-free and safe from my cats, who would LOVE to sink their claws into some nice tulle.

Now that it’s getting close to the wedding, all of the vendors are contacting me to solidify the details.  We’ve met with the coordinator at the hotel, I’m going to the florist’s today, and we’re meeting with the photographer tomorrow.  The one that hasn’t contacted me – and that I’m kind of nervous about – is the DJ.  He’s doing the ceremony music as well as the reception, so I really hope that he doesn’t have questions about the schedule I sent him.  I’m going to e-mail him today asking if he needs directions to the hotel or anything, and I guess I’ll ask him then if he has any questions.

I have to pick the programs up today as well.  It’s going to be a “run around” kind of lunch hour, I can already tell.  I freaking HOPE they ran the programs off correctly and nothing went wrong there.

What’s left?  I have to buy the garland and stuff to decorate the arch.  I think that’s it.  I HOPE that’s it.

One reason I’ll be glad when I don’t have to think about the wedding anymore is my e-mail.  I use a program called Mailwasher, and I’m not deleteing any of my e-mail from the queue because I need them both at work and at home.  Thus, my e-mail program is full of stuff that I have to wade through to find my new messages.

EVERQUEST 2

So. . . EQ2 is out.  That, more than anything, is the REAL reason I haven’t written anything for twelve days.  EQ1 was like computerized crackrock, and EQ2 is worse.  What’s worse than crack?  Smack?

Anyway, I’m really pleased with this game.  At first I wasn’t too sure I would like it as much as I liked EQ1, but I do.  If anyone is playing on the Antonia Bayle server, you can find me under the name Tilessa.  Just be aware, I am a role-player, so I’m not necessarily going to be nice to you.

NEW IDENTITY

Way back when, probably three weeks ago now, I left my coat at my mom’s house, which means I’ve been wearing my other winter coats to work – the Carhartt, the ski jacket, and the motorcycle jacket.

I don’t ride motorcycles.  Anymore.  Actually, I’ve never driven a bike, but I used to ride with my dad when I was a wee thing, and I liked it.  I’ve wanted a motorcycle jacket since I was little, because all my dad’s friends had them and they looked BOSS.  Or MONEY.  Or whatever the new slang is for “cool”.  Anyway, when I was 16 I bought my own, and I still love it.  I don’t wear it often, because it’s heavy and fitted and I need to wear a relatively thin shirt so it fits correctly.  But I wore it to work one day this week.  I got the strangest comment from someone walking by my desk.  I had my coat slung over the back of my chair, as usual, and this guy walked by and said “Are you going for a new identity or something?”  I had no idea what he meant, but he went on to say something along the lines of he saw the jacket and wondered if I was trying to toughen up or if I had colors on the back of it.  I basically just smiled him off, but it bothered me.  Most of the people I work with have no idea who I really am or what I’m really like.  They have no call to make comments about a “new identity”, because most of them have never seen my real one.

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Nov 05 2004

No election, yes wedding.

Published by under Wedding

Let’s get the election rant off the main page, shall we?  I’m tired of looking at it.  Back to normal, I guess.

This weekend is my wedding shower!  I’m not quite sure about how everything is going to go, and I’m a little nervous about being the gracious hostess I know I have to be.  I have a tendency to let myself lapse into semi-snarky at any kind of gathering.  I believe most people call that “immaturity” or perhaps “bratiness”.  I can’t let myself do that on Sunday, because all these people are coming for me and bringing presents with them.  The least I can do is smile nice and behave myself.

The thing that really makes me nervous is that I’m going to have to introduce people to each other, and I don’t know most of The Man’s mother’s sisters by sight.  I know their NAMES, but I can’t put them with faces, especially since they all look like Dr. Mom to begin with.  I’ll probably just have to corner Dr. Mom and level with her: “Look, I TOTALLY cannot tell your sisters apart, so you have to help me out here.”  I’ve only met them a handful of times, and it’s not like we’ve had a lot of face time. . . a couple of Christmases and Lucky and Galleta’s wedding – that’s it.

Maybe I’ll give everyone name tags!
“Hello, my name is JANE DOE and I’m The Man’s aunt”
“Hello, my name is JAS and I’m the bride”
“Hello, my name is MOM and I’m trying to remember everyone’s name”
“Hello, my name is VICKI and I’m glad we’re not at Jacobson’s”

I have to ask, am I not supposed to be checking my wedding registry to see what people have already bought me?  If I’m not supposed to, I’ll try to stop, but I like seeing what people have chosen to buy.  I also don’t like suspense, so online registries are wonderful.

I’m trying to whup my skin and face into shape for the wedding.  I invested in some Aveeno lotion (LOVE IT) and I just ordered a lip exfoliant, lip moisture treatment, and a new lipstick from  Smashbox.  I need to get some more Biore pore strips and I need to do something about the skin around my fingernails – rough and yucky.

I also took my veil out of it’s box this morning and hung it in the bathroom to get the wrinkles steamed out.  I have no idea what I’m going to do for my dress.  I think I’ll probably end up buying a little personal steamer from Target or something and use it on the day of the wedding.  Speaking of the dress, I called the alteration lady yesterday to see if I could pick it up, and she told me she needed more time.  I granted her another week, but it had BETTER be done by then.  If it’s not, I’m going to commence freaking out, and I’ll probably go in there and demand to see my dress and verify that it still looks like the dress I dropped off.

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Nov 04 2004

You can ignore me, my guy lost.

Published by under Current Events

I guess I should probably say something about the whole election thing. . . not that I really feel like it, or that I’ll have anything new to add to all of the other people who are already spouting their rage and fear around the online journaling world.

I suppose the most telling thing that I can write about how I feel are these two points:  This is the only election that has ever given me nightmares, and this is the only election which has caused me to feel depressed.  It’s not enough to say “I’m not happy” or “I’m disappointed”. I’m depressed.

However, I do giggle every time I read another impassioned plea from a journalist, online blogger, or politician calling for the “healing to begin”.  Give me a break.  I don’t want to come together with anyone.  I don’t want to heal.  I don’t want to stand united behind a leader that I don’t respect. I especially don’t want to turn around and start making nice to a party that doesn’t support my right to get an abortion, doesn’t recognize my roommate as a person who deserves the same civil rights as other people, doesn’t believe in the right of the common person to express themselves peaceably (remember the “free speech zones”?), thinks that the environment is something that can be at best ignored and at worst abused, has absolutely no interest in affordable medical care or lowering prescription drug prices, is making no effort to stop American jobs from being shipped offshore, feels free to glut Social Security, but who DOES believe that a stem cell is more important than a fully formed human being who desperately needs the research to go forward.

I think George Carlin put it best when he said “If you’re pre-born, you’re fine.  If you’re pre-school, you’re fucked!”  From what I’ve seen so far, that pretty much sums up this administration’s philosophy.

So where does that leave me?  As The Man and D– will no doubt point out all too quickly, none of those things really affect me in any way.  I mean, I don’t want an abortion, I have health insurance, no one’s tried to stop my right to free speech lately, I’m not of retirement age, and I’m not gay.  So why should I care?  My life – for all intents and purposes – will continue just as it has continued for the past few years.

And that would be fine with me if I was the world’s most selfish asshole, only concerned with my little one acre plot of the USA.  But in a few years, I hope to have a child.  If my child turns out to be a daughter, and let’s say she gets raped and pregnancy results, I would like her to have the choice to terminate that pregnancy.  I would also like her to be able to drink water from the tap and to go swimming in the lakes and to breathe the air.  If my child turns out to be gay, I would like her to have the right to benefit from her partner’s life insurance, to adopt a child, and to be married in every sense of the word.  I would like her to know that she can get a job, that she doesn’t have to suffer and die from a treatable disease because she can’t afford medicine, that she can travel to Europe and not have to hide the fact that she is American for fear of being verbally or physically harassed.

Other people don’t think my hypothetical future daughter should have some of those rights, and they also don’t think that she has the right to expect those things.  Or maybe they’re just fooling themselves that things will never get “that bad”.  As for me, I’m kind of afraid.  Because now we have an extremist president whose party is also in control of the House and Senate, and who knows that he doesn’t have to worry about keeping his image nice for his re-election attempt.

And maybe Kerry wouldn’t have done a better job. . . I don’t know, and I can’t answer that, and neither can anyone else.  But I do know that this has been the all around NASTIEST campaign in history, and I think it’s really naive for everyone (including Kerry) to turn around and say, “OK, it’s over, now let’s all work together instead of fighting and dividing like we have been doing for the past two years.”  I don’t want to work towards the same things that the president wants to work for; that’s why I voted against him.  I don’t like his extremist, born-again bullshit, I don’t like the fact that America is ready to get behind someone who campaigns on fear and who is intent on pointing out what makes us different from one another rather than what makes us the same.

I don’t really care to have more debates about this; it’s pointless at this point in time.  51% of Americans don’t agree with me, so whatever I say is moot.  Whatever half of the population says now is moot, because we just re-elected a crazy fucker who thinks that God talks to him.  GO AMERICA!

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