It is now in the double digits until the wedding. The dreams have started, the dress has been fitted, the invites are deisgned, the venues booked, and things seem to be under control.
Except for my obsession with all things wedding.
I have yet to buy a wedding magazine, and doubt I will. Pages and pages of over-priced doo-dads is not how I was to blow $10. Besides, I don't need their precious tips and hints. I got things under control.
No, my obsession comes with Slice and their bridal shows. "Rich Bride, Poor Bride" is a favourite. I love watching these couple battle over how much to spend on what. And at the end of the show, the couple rattles off what they spent on what. My jaw aches at the end of that segment from dropping so hard. Last night, I saw a couple spend $25,000 on the venue! $25,000! Insane! We've got ours for a song. "Wedding SOS" makes me feel smug. This smarmy British woman swoops in to save the wedding of a lazy couple. I see how little is organized for their wedding, consult my detailed list with all the things ticked off, and I grin with glee that I'm on track.
I look at several wedding-related websites, reading for tips on how to trim spending and etiquette. Etiqueete is a big one for me. I want the event to be funfunfun, but polite, thank you very much. I gasped with horror when Byron suggested we put on our invites where we are registering (Home Outfitters, BTW). It was quite the dilemma for me when we decided not to have children at our wedding. The ceremony is at 5pm, and we won't be eating until after 7pm. The kids will just be cranky and tired and who wants that? Not me. Who would that alienate? How do we tell people that ther kiddly-winks are not invited? What would people say?
I think it might be thinking like this that leads to dreams like the one the other night when I dreamed that I forgot to mail invitations and we had to call people to come to the wedding. We have a DJ hired, so I hope that eliminates all dreams of not having music. My dress is being fitted as I type, so I should not dream of wearing a see-through dress with no bra (that was an actual dream and I scared me. You should be scared, too).
The wedding is 77 days away and I am starting to feel wedding-fatigue. I will not, however, whine here or anywhere else that "I am already doing too much for my own wedding", which a bride-to-be actually said to me not too long ago. How stupid was that? I'm doing all of it myself and am having fun. But, like a bottle of Malibu, there is such a thing as too much fun.
Obsessively Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Take Your Pick
In Victoria, bicyclists abound. It's part of that whole eco-friendly-green-hippie esthetic going on here. Bah. Fine, fine, pedal for all your worth in traffic, take up all the bike lanes you can, Super Cycler. But take your frigging pick.
You can have the road or you can have the sidewalk. No. I take that back. You CANNOT have the sidewalk because it's called a sideWALK not a sideBIKE. You can choose between the road or the bike lane. Make your choice and stick with it. Otherwise, I will not be held responsible for my actions.
I can come at this from two sides: the driver and the pedestrian.
The Driver
I loathe seeing bicyclists taking up half a lane of traffic, slowing dozens of cars behind me and they're not even pedalling hard. If you pedalled like your life depended on it, I might nod sympathetically. Or when they blatantly disobey the road rules. Sure, I would love the run a red so I can turn left. Or bomb through that empty intersection at 3pm. It would make my life easier, but much more dangerous. So why do I see the fools on bikes breaking those rules? And then I hear them moan that they are vehicles, too and deserve the road just as much as anyone else. Then USE it like everyone else, douchebag.
The Pedestrian
Again with the sideWALK not sideBIKE argument. Victoria has accomodated you with bike lanes everywhere. Use them. Don't get all huffy puffy with the people using the sideWALK when they don't part like the red sea for your bike. You're in the wrong. Some sideWALKS are busy with pedestrians, old people in scooters and baby carriages. Weaving in and out of all that is impossible. Get your lazy ass on that bike and get in the bike lane where you're supposed to be.
Don't even get me going on the asshats who whiz down the crowded road, then hop on the sideWALK when there's less traffic there. That's double-dipping, road style.
Disclosure: I do not bike. I don't own one nor do I want to. The last time I was on a bike (sober) was when I was 12 and as I merrily went by, someone yelled "Hey! Where's the seat?!?!" Mortified, I jumped off, walked my bike home, never to ride again. That is, until I was 28 and coming home from a bar drunkety-drunk-drunk. I saw an unlocked bike outside the court house in Yellowknife, hopped on and pedalled like I was 10 again. The joyride ended when I hit a fence. But both times, I was NEVER on the sidewalk.
Rules Enforcingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
You can have the road or you can have the sidewalk. No. I take that back. You CANNOT have the sidewalk because it's called a sideWALK not a sideBIKE. You can choose between the road or the bike lane. Make your choice and stick with it. Otherwise, I will not be held responsible for my actions.
I can come at this from two sides: the driver and the pedestrian.
The Driver
I loathe seeing bicyclists taking up half a lane of traffic, slowing dozens of cars behind me and they're not even pedalling hard. If you pedalled like your life depended on it, I might nod sympathetically. Or when they blatantly disobey the road rules. Sure, I would love the run a red so I can turn left. Or bomb through that empty intersection at 3pm. It would make my life easier, but much more dangerous. So why do I see the fools on bikes breaking those rules? And then I hear them moan that they are vehicles, too and deserve the road just as much as anyone else. Then USE it like everyone else, douchebag.
The Pedestrian
Again with the sideWALK not sideBIKE argument. Victoria has accomodated you with bike lanes everywhere. Use them. Don't get all huffy puffy with the people using the sideWALK when they don't part like the red sea for your bike. You're in the wrong. Some sideWALKS are busy with pedestrians, old people in scooters and baby carriages. Weaving in and out of all that is impossible. Get your lazy ass on that bike and get in the bike lane where you're supposed to be.
Don't even get me going on the asshats who whiz down the crowded road, then hop on the sideWALK when there's less traffic there. That's double-dipping, road style.
Disclosure: I do not bike. I don't own one nor do I want to. The last time I was on a bike (sober) was when I was 12 and as I merrily went by, someone yelled "Hey! Where's the seat?!?!" Mortified, I jumped off, walked my bike home, never to ride again. That is, until I was 28 and coming home from a bar drunkety-drunk-drunk. I saw an unlocked bike outside the court house in Yellowknife, hopped on and pedalled like I was 10 again. The joyride ended when I hit a fence. But both times, I was NEVER on the sidewalk.
Rules Enforcingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Don't. Just Don't
I loathe the phrase "You go, girl!". I hate it. It is a stupid phrase often muttered by middle aged hags who are trying really hard to be cool. Stop it right now. You look and sound ridiculous.
Whenever I hear that phrase, I immediately think of some divorcee or middle aged single woman in 1986 trying to establish her feminist street cred by boosting the morale of fellow females. In my mind, these women are wearing shades of peach and turquoise together, a power suit with giant shoulder pads, and glasses the size of dinner plates. You go, girl, indeed.
I was reading a blog this morning from a major newspaper, and in the comments section, some regular commentator wrote that phrase. The blog was about ... I have no idea. I forgot the point of the blog after I read that heinous phrase in the comments. That's how she started her comment.. "You go, girl!!!!!". And yes, there were copious amounts of exclamation points. Blech.
I am annoyed by many things, especially tacky phrases and the tacky people who use them. My fantasy today is to find a way to ban the use of ridiculous and overused phrases.
"Oh no you di-ihn't"ingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Whenever I hear that phrase, I immediately think of some divorcee or middle aged single woman in 1986 trying to establish her feminist street cred by boosting the morale of fellow females. In my mind, these women are wearing shades of peach and turquoise together, a power suit with giant shoulder pads, and glasses the size of dinner plates. You go, girl, indeed.
I was reading a blog this morning from a major newspaper, and in the comments section, some regular commentator wrote that phrase. The blog was about ... I have no idea. I forgot the point of the blog after I read that heinous phrase in the comments. That's how she started her comment.. "You go, girl!!!!!". And yes, there were copious amounts of exclamation points. Blech.
I am annoyed by many things, especially tacky phrases and the tacky people who use them. My fantasy today is to find a way to ban the use of ridiculous and overused phrases.
"Oh no you di-ihn't"ingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Thursday, June 5, 2008
We're a good team
It was dark brown, made from chip-board, big, heavy and infinitely ugly. The Behemoth was a leftover from the guy who lived in our apartment before we did. It sat in a corner of our living room, and with all the cubby holes and compartments, it was a hoarder's dream. To Byron and I, it was a heinous mess.
It's gone.
Byron's belongings are arriving today from Alberta. He has bookcases and a desk his dad made, a big tv, an exercise bike, a motor bike, and everything he wanted to bring to this new life is on its way. But with The Behemoth in the way, we couldn't fit all of Byron's things in. It had to go.
We procrastinated and pretended we forgot about it for long enough. For weeks, we'd say that we would take it to the garbage this week, or this evening, or this weekend. After dinner last night, we realized that we had put it off for long enough, and it was last night or never. So we took the top part of The Behemoth off (yes, it had two, equally heavy parts), and dragged it down the hallto the elevator. Since it was about seven feet long, it didn't fit inside, so we tried to haul it down the stairs. But we got stuck. So we dragged it back to our apartment and dismantled it there. With hand-held screwdrivers, not even electric drills, we took apart the chip-board Behemoth. Then we dragged The Behemoth out to the dumpster, piece by piece.
As I watched Byron crouched down, concentrating on the screws, I realized something. We make a good team. I have no patience with shit like this. I want it out, I want it done, and I want it done now. I was grunting and groaning and whining. He was patient and diligent. After a few screws came out on my side, I would take the boots to The Behemoth and kick it apart, literally. He was more meticulous. But we did it. We got The Behemoth out of our living room, making so much more room for his computer desk and 50" flat screen tv. I can't wait for Byron to be completely moved in.
We make a good team, that Byron and I. Whew!
Screwingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
It's gone.
Byron's belongings are arriving today from Alberta. He has bookcases and a desk his dad made, a big tv, an exercise bike, a motor bike, and everything he wanted to bring to this new life is on its way. But with The Behemoth in the way, we couldn't fit all of Byron's things in. It had to go.
We procrastinated and pretended we forgot about it for long enough. For weeks, we'd say that we would take it to the garbage this week, or this evening, or this weekend. After dinner last night, we realized that we had put it off for long enough, and it was last night or never. So we took the top part of The Behemoth off (yes, it had two, equally heavy parts), and dragged it down the hallto the elevator. Since it was about seven feet long, it didn't fit inside, so we tried to haul it down the stairs. But we got stuck. So we dragged it back to our apartment and dismantled it there. With hand-held screwdrivers, not even electric drills, we took apart the chip-board Behemoth. Then we dragged The Behemoth out to the dumpster, piece by piece.
As I watched Byron crouched down, concentrating on the screws, I realized something. We make a good team. I have no patience with shit like this. I want it out, I want it done, and I want it done now. I was grunting and groaning and whining. He was patient and diligent. After a few screws came out on my side, I would take the boots to The Behemoth and kick it apart, literally. He was more meticulous. But we did it. We got The Behemoth out of our living room, making so much more room for his computer desk and 50" flat screen tv. I can't wait for Byron to be completely moved in.
We make a good team, that Byron and I. Whew!
Screwingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
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