here comes the crazy

First things first. I am not obsessed with getting married. I actually hate going to weddings and think that they're a huge waste of money. Plus, I know that if I ever get married, I will turn into the biggest Bridezilla control freak bitch to ever walk the earth and I don't want to unleash that monster out on anyone.

Having said all of this, I am obsessed with looking at wedding photos. And I really think that this
is the cutest fucking thing ever.

In my defense, I wasn't actively searching for wedding photos. I'm kind of a creeper but give me some credit. StumbleUpon sent me to that website several months ago and I thought it was adorable and, after watching an episode of Say Yes to the Dress today, I decided to dredge up the site to admire the quirkiness that this couple has. Not one little bit of that wedding was traditional. And I love it.

Then there are the times that I go through my Facebook "friends" wedding photo albums and critique certain aspects of their wedding because I'm a bitch. And it should be said that I have some friends on Facebook that I truly dislike. Think of The Grinch going through the phone book hating the Whos alphabetically in Ron Howard's How the Grinch Stole Christmas:

"Hate. Hate. Hate. Double hate. Loathe entirely."

But, generally, I like my Facebook friends. And I only judge the wedding photos of the people I don't like. Mostly because I'm certain that I could do a better job put to the task, and probably with a smaller budget... and not because my bias is getting in the way, but because I'm a crafty, not to mention frugal, little bitch.

This is why I think I could be a wedding planner. Putting together a wedding is difficult. Putting together a good wedding is damn near impossible without professional help. Putting together a good wedding with money left over is something that only I can do. Seriously, I think I'm going to become a wedding planner for those ballin' on a budget.

Yes, this idea really did just come to me. Not becoming a wedding planner, but becoming one that works exclusively with couples trying to have a beautiful wedding but not shelling out thousands and thousands of dollars. I mean, there are tons and tons of websites that offer tips and tricks to save money on weddings but having someone know ALL of those things and being able to work face-to-face with the bride and groom and giving them the information straight up and offering ways to help out on their big day. How much more special would the day feel if they knew that they had put it together themselves and how much money was saved in the process?

Come on, we're living in tough times. The last thing anyone wants to worry about is an astronomical wedding bill.

Okay, maybe that's not the last thing someone really wants to worry about, but still. Let me live in my little dream world.

And I realize that I couldn't charge a lot at No-Nonsense Nuptials (yes, I gave my fake company a name, and you can't judge me because you've read this ridiculousness up to at least this point) because, really, the whole point of it is to save the bride and groom money. That's why I could also offer my creative services at additional small fees that would cost a ton anywhere else, or be too time consuming for the bride and groom to do because, let's be serious, they're getting married, they don't have time to make roses out of crepe paper for a centerpiece to go at Table 9, where the groom's uncle Marty, who suffers from severe allergies, is going to sit.

I think this is a good idea. I have no idea how to get started. Which is why I think should hire a life planner. Do they make those? Are they cheap to hire? Could I perhaps create this career as well and incorporate it into No-Nonsense Nuptials as like a type of pre-wedding counseling? If so, the life planner will have to come up with his own clever name that will need to be whimsical and full of alliteration.

And I feel it needs to be said again: I am not obsessed with getting married. And I do hate going to weddings, but I think if I went to a wedding tha I was able to help with and even save the bride and groom money, then I would really enjoy it. And so would everyone else.

o canada, we stand on guard for thee... as long as you give me a book deal

I sent out my very first query letter today.

It kind of made me want to throw up a little bit. And, until I get a reply (read: rejection), every time I see that little envelope at the bottom of my work computer, it's going to feel like someone's punched me in the gut.

After I get that email, which I'm going to assume will be a rejection because, really, what are the odds of me sending out only one query letter and getting a positive response back? Not to mention that I sent the letter to my dream publishing company. Yeah, once I get that rejection back, then I'm going to mass email/mail query letters to every publishing company in the United States. And maybe Canada.

I think they would like me in Canada. I mean, I like maple syrup and I know some of their national anthem, thanks largely in part to that episode of That 70's Show where the boys are trying to bring a Vista Cruiser's worth of beer into the US and get stopped by the Mounties.

Now no one can say that me watching hours of mind-numbing TV has never taught me anything or not done me any favors. It may very well indeed get me a book deal in Canada.

Fez: just wish that there was someplace in the world where prejudice didn't exist.
Kelso: Well, that's Canada... Yup, good ol' Canada. They don't make generalizations about people because they're too busy playin' hockey or gettin' drunk or puttin' maple syrup on their ham.
- That 70's Show

Remind me that, if I get a book deal with a Canadian publisher, it would be a good idea to delete this blog entry.

jello shots and bathroom shelves

I put together a bathroom shelf to go over the toilet today and, for whatever stupid reason, I decided to photo-document it all. Ready for a bunch of stupid pictures? Great, let's go!

1 - This is what it's supposed to look like once it's finished:

Now, isn't that nice? You know what's especially nice? That WalMart doesn't take into consideration the fact that not everyone has all that open space around their toilet that's shown in the picture. Yes, this will come back later.

2 - I got all my supplies in order:

- the contents of the box, screwdriver, and an actual hammer that replaced the Dream Hammer... which, for those of you not living in my apartment, is a dream dictionary that we used as a hammer up until a few months ago when a real hammer was purchased

- the first season of Psych playing on the telly. Shawn Spencer = love. And, as a random aside, the writers of this show replied to me on Twitter today. Granted, I replied to one of their tweets first, but still. It was very nice of them to acknowledge me. I should have tweeted them asking for a writing job with them.

- my Rosie the Riveter persona. Maybe I can go by Crystal the Carpenter?

3 - Decided that having a wee little drink beforehand was a good idea. And Meagan had made black cherry jello shots (using black cherry vodka, no less) last night. They. Are. AWESOME.

- plus, I assumed that I would injure myself in some fashion and alcohol would make it not hurt as bad.

4 - Began assembling the bottom half of the shelf. Turns out that I only needed to use one of those bars in the middle. The directions didn't clarify that until I went to put the support bar at the bottom and didn't have one.


5 - About people not having wide open bathrooms in that earlier step? Yeah, we don't have one of those which made getting that bottom support bar on really fucking difficult.

- I ended up taking the top off the commode and removing something from the bowl to attach the bar to the shelf.

6 - The top half of the shelf is getting started. Now, I ask you, isn't that a handsome top part of a bathroom shelf?

- The answer is yes, yes it is.

7 - Still annoyed with the bottom bar (and WalMart, in general) that goes behind the toilet. Decide to take another jello shot.


8 - Then decide to have a mini-dance party because I'm sure that's how the professionals do it.


9 - Emmy then decided that she needed to guard the back panel from the forces of evil.

- In LOLCat speak, she iz duin it rite.

10 - But all that guarding made her really sleepy...


11 - The top half of the bathroom shelf in it's completion! It only took me two full episodes of Psych to complete. You see, in my world, I measure time by TV shows. A summer work day, for example, is 14 episodes of Friends.


12 - The bathroom shelf done and actually standing up in the bathroom!


- The hardest part to put together was this little strappy thing at the top that goes into the shelf and also into the wall so that the shelf won't fall in on you while you're doing your business. That seriously took me more time than I care to admit installing. Plus, I was in one of the rickety kitchen chairs and, you know, I'm not tiny by any means. I was certain that the chair was going to give way and I was going to fall, hit my head on the vanity, and have Meagan find me the next day bleeding from the head and not knowing my own name. I was equally afraid of all that happening only, instead of having amnesia, I was afraid that I would wake up dead.

13 - I was so proud of my work and not hurting myself in any way, shape, or form, that I decided to treat myself with one last jello shot.


And that, bloggers, is how you put a bathroom shelf together.

tonight!

I've decided to do a photo blog tonight of me putting together a shelf for the bathroom. Why? Because it will be hilarious.

And I will probably hurt myself in some way and photographic evidence will help me win bunches of money when I sue the company that manufactured the shelf.

Stay tuned.

Jill:Don't you think you ought to go to the emergency room?
Tim: I was just there; they said I wasn't a "priority."
Jill: Why, was there a guy with a whole table stuck to his head?

- Home Improvement

potty mouth

I'm conflicted in writing this entry because it's just out of my comfort zone to talk about, but I think that this is a topic that needs to be addressed. Not necessarily political or controversial, but important and opinions vary from person to person.

What I'm talking about is conversing in the restroom.

I will go ahead and say that I am opposed to talking to people while they or myself are taking care of business. And I don't know whether I admire or judge the people who have no problem chit-chatting while in the loo.

Those who are for it say, "Well, we all use the restroom. May as well be friendly about." (Okay, I don't know anyone who would actually say those words exactly, but just go with it.) And I'm not even going to get started on people going into a one-toilet bathroom together. I don't care how long you've been friends, that restroom at Tidball's barely fits one person comfortably. The thought of two people in there at once is just gross.

Honestly, I don't know how guys handle urinals, all out there in the open and so close to each other. No way in Hell. I would pity them but they get to pee standing up which makes me not feel sorry for them at all.

Back to the whole "Conversating-while-Urinating" discussion. Some debate that they don't like talking to people in the bathroom who are in the bathroom with them but having a phone conversation is okay.

NEWSFLASH: It isn't okay. Trust me, as a person being on the other end of the receiver when the person I'm talking to is answering Nature's call, there is nothing okay with being able to hear what you're doing long distance.

Especially when you feel the need to discuss it with me in horrific graphic detail. Not that anyone in my family does this, especially not my sweet little practically-chain-smoking grandmother. She would never talk about her and her boyfriend's bathroom adventures to her granddaughter... for long periods of time... almost every time I talk to her.

Nothing against my grandma, of course. She's an awesome lady. She just likes sharing the details of her life with me. Which I guess is kind of nice. Disgusting, but nice.

In the writing of all this, which I find embarrassing to even blog about, I can't help but think about Elliot Reid from Scrubs, the self-described "nervous pooer". So, you know what? This horrible blog entry is dedicated to you, Elliot. Congratulations.

eww eww EWW.

Morgan Freeman is marrying his step-granddaughter.

Who is he trying to be? The black Woody Allen?

There. I said it. And I feel better about it.

And what's even grosser than the whole 'step-grandfather/step-granddaughter going to be husband and wife' thing is the fact that he is 72 and she's 27. Now, I know that 'age is just a number' and all that bull, but there's a lot of numbers between 27 and 72. He's a whole middle-aged person older than her. I mean, he's old enough to be her grandfather....

... oh, wait. He IS her grandfather.

It's sick. Sick and wrong. I mean, you just wouldn't expect this from someone who once played God.

guilt and city grime

Survived New York. I didn't get mugged, North Korea didn't bomb the place like my grandpa thought they would, and Robert Pattinson was nowhere to be seen.

I did do a good job and only hurt myself once while I was there. You can hardly tell where I cut my nose with my fingernail now.

The trip was so much fun and I'm eager to go back. I've talked about it so much to so many people that retelling what all we did at this point just seems too much. But I will show you this:


1) Yes, I know that those sunglasses make my nose look huge. While I tend to be attracted to guys with larger noses (I'm weird, I know), I like my nose the way it is, and it is NOT as big as those sunglasses make it appear.

2) That building behind me. If you think it looks like the exterior shot of Monica and Rachel's apartment from Friends, then you would be correct. I can't tell you how happy I was to find that apartment. I dragged Jessica around for longer than she probably wanted to put up with me to find it, but I found it. Sadly, I did not find my Chandler anywhere nearby.

3) Also, my hair is red now. I took the plunge and dyed it. Just a semi-permanent where it will wash out in 20 or so washes. My hair has been jacked up ever since and am going through 'hair detox' all over again.

4) This wasn't supposed to be a laundry list type of blog entry. Oh well, too late now. Realized that I get a strange thrill in hailing taxis. And while most of the drivers tried to cheat us out of money and not counting the last driver who took us back to the airport, they were fairly nice. Not at all what I thought New York cab drivers would be like.

5) Bought a purse in Chinatown. I still have mixed feelings about it. It's really pretty but every time I look at it, I think about a sad little Chinese grandma sitting in a dank basement somewhere sewing purses together with her aching arthritic fingers for pennies a day. Am slowly starting to think of all my clothing that way actually. But especially that purse.

6) Didn't find Robbie Rob (my nickname for Robert Pattinson), and don't think we didn't look for him. We stalked New York like we were rabid fifteen-year-old girls.

7) And, speaking of acting like fifteen-year-olds, there were Harry Potter movie posters EVERYWHERE. It was beautiful. And I smiled like a madwoman every time I saw one in the subway or in Times Square.

8) Still feel like I haven't caught up on my sleep from the trip. Am dozing of while typing this off. But maybe that's because of something else that I really don't have the energy to discuss right now.

9) And, just as a cliffhanger that will never be resolved, I got a pleasant surprise yesterday that more than made up for what happened the day before that.