Christmas Stress

So I suck at blogging lately.

I'm sure you are all sobbing into your pillows each night, wondering what I am doing, and how dare I be so cruel as to not update you more regularly with the random bullshit happenings in my life.

So here's a dose for you.

Went to the metropolis on Friday and stayed with T's sister A and her husband in preparation of the purchase of my wedding dress. (My wallet moans in despair at the mere mention of this.) The appointment was on Saturday, so we had all of Friday to waste.

So we wasted it by eating unholy amounts of sushi and drinking at dive bars, which is just what the doctor ordered as far as I'm concerned. (T was rather sad that he had to work and had to miss it. Granted, he treats the idea of seeing my wedding dress like seeing Medusa herself, so I am sure that he would have spent Saturday morning drinking coffee in his pajamas and watching UFC with A's husband. Again, there are worse things.)

We went to 'I Love Sushi', a restaurant that really didn't spend a ton of time in thinking of a name, being that most people who eat sushi on a regular basis love it, or at least like it well enough.

We ate. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. And it was good.

We then began our dive bar crawl, which involved rum and diets that were nearly clear (The cola made the whole mix look like watered down scotch there was so little of it) and ended in us crashing a 60th birthday party and singing karaoke. (The oldest brother in T's clan, along with his girlfriend, host karaoke. We often crash their functions and a good time is had by all.)(And A and her husband knew the birthday celebrant, so we weren't REALLY crashing it....right?)

The bar we finished at, which was more a Chinese restaurant than a bar, per se (there was a bar there....), well, when we pulled in, I thought it was a derelict gas station. That should tell you something.

The owner/bartender/dude who seemed to be in charge that night let us smoke inside (!!) and we ended the evening with a family rendition of 'Blue Christmas'.

And T's oldest brother couldn't remember my name. Which I think is far more hilarious than it should be.

Anyway, so we closed down the bar and went home and to bed, only to get up a very few short hours later to go get the dress crap taken care of.

The dress sales person helper bunny lady (who rocks, btw) told me I was one of the easiest brides she had ever worked with because my response to a lot of her questions and queries was, 'I don't care, what does everyone else think?'. It would seem that a lot of brides are not so open to the idea that they may not know what the hell is going on in regards to things like dress fittings (not being a seamstress or fashionista)....but I'm weird.

Anyway, dress has been paid for (ACK) and is currently being made (ACK) to my specifications, and will be in my clutches in April. Then I will get it fitted to my luscious body (ha!) and we're good to go.

So I have until April to make sure that the measurements that were taken (UUUGH) on Saturday are no good when the dress arrives. So there.

Stairmaster, here I come.

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Also, and I am only bringing this up to annoy T when he reads this, I have completed his Christmas shopping, and he is going to pee his pants when he sees what I got him.

Email me, and I will tell you, if you're interested.