Monthly Archives: January 2012

“I’m So Excited.”

This is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time:

If you’ve been reading this blog for a long time, then you know I’m a massive Kristen Bell fan. And obviously I’m a massive Ellen fan because who isn’t besides crazy folk?

And if you’ve known me personally for a long time, you now know that Kristen and I are on the exact same scale when it comes to crying. This is almost how I reacted the day I got engaged.

And man, the way Dax says, “Do you wanna come be a part of setting up his little habitat?” is the same tone of voice that Justin has to use with me at least once a month.

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And Then Came The Cookies

My birthday weekend was pretty great. I finished two huge projects on Friday (and either totally kicked their asses or assisted some amazing art directors in kicking ass), got the call that my cervix is coo and I am cancer-free on both ends, ate too much, drank too much, got awesome cobalt glass stuff from my mom, a Hannah Montana card with STICKERS from my grandma, and some sweet bubble bath bombs from Justin. I mostly stayed in, just being fat and lazy, but Friday night I hung out with Vee and she introduced me to kale–yum!

Today I start P90X. I’m doing the workout after work. I’m attempting to start the diet today, but my coworkers have already threatened to bring in an insane amount of goodies, and with my luck the gyro truck will show up today, too. I’m waiting til after work to do the ‘before’ weight and measurements, but if these pants are telling me anything, it’s not going to be pretty.


Like 10 minutes after I found that picture, I went to the Washington Ave. Post and found this wine, with a fat hippo on it. And then I drank it. And then I ate the hippo.

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Zippity Do Don’t

Okay, I got the dress in the mail. And while it’s surprisingly roomy in the ass, I can’t zip it up. No surprises there, but the fact is … this may be a ribcage issue rather than a fat issue? Because the zipper stops where my ribs start. Who knows, I may shock myself. But if the problem is my bone structure, then I won’t be hurt.

Also, awesome Ben loaned me his Iron Gym so that I can do chin-ups during p90x. And by chin-ups, I mean approximately 1/16th of a chin-up and lots of whining.

Here is the image that will be my fuel on Monday:

Me, in my half-zipped short poofy wedding dress (and a cardigan), dangling helplessly from a chin-up bar in my bathroom doorway. Never forget. I know my neighbors won’t.

Two more wedding things and then I will shut up about it for a while:

1. Today my Grandma emailed me with an idea that all the moms, grandmas and sisters could wear a “hair ornament (HO)” for a uniform look. Then she proceeded to ramble about all the ways this HO could be decorated, the possible color of the HO, a big HO vs. small HO, how much she loves HOs, etc.

2. I need to start a running tally of all the ways my mom mispronounces Mad Art Gallery. So far: Mad Hat, Mad Hatter and today’s classic, Mat Hat.

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Mom weighs in on my potential wedding dress:

As to this dress, it’s really cute and I love the top.  However, I think a person needs to have really gorgeous legs and knees for it to look right.  The bride in the top picture looked like she was bow legged.  It definitely did not look good on her.  My eyes were drawn to her legs and not to the dress.  The 2nd girl with the darker hair had gorgeous legs, but the dress looked even shorter.   Think in terms also of what your pictures will look like.

This is what my mom considers bow legged and “definitely not good”:

You guys, according to this standard, I am hella bow legged. Maybe I could just pay for the photographer myself?

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P90X’scuse Me?

Jane and I are meeting up at Dewey’s tonight so she can loan me her P90X. (Hey, if we’re talking about fitness, I count it as a workout.)

However, I just looked over all the manuals and things she emailed me last week (JANE ROCKS!) that go along with it, and holy crap. If I really want to do this right (I ignored the Insanity Diet completely, which was probably my downfall), then it’s going to take a lot of discipline and a lot of planning. I may need a week to get my shit together before I can actually start this. (Which is probably good anyway, considering how much food people throw at me during my birthday week.)

Do I really need to do this? Well, I think I found my wedding dress. (!!) It’s a BCBGMAXAZRIA from last year, but I found it new online for crazy cheap. And by cheap, I mean cheap enough that I went ahead and bought it with my own money, and if it doesn’t work out I can just resell it on eBay.

The downside? They only had it in a size 4. Eek! I can get myself into a size 6 with no problem–I’ve done it many times–but I’ve never tried to aim for 4 before. To give you an idea of what I’m working with, I’m currently (re: barely) a size 8. But like I said, if I can’t get into it by THIS May, then I can just resell it with plenty of time to buy a different dress.

Either way, I’ve discovered that the secret for cost-conscious, casual girls is to search for a wedding reception dress rather than an actual wedding dress. I mean, can you see me in some big foofy get-up? Me either.

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Filed under F This 2012

I Had No Choice

Heather demanded at gunpoint requested that I write about last weekend.

One of my best friends, Ty, had a party last weekend to celebrate his divorce. It was pretty great, the entire old group from high school was there, minus Warren. (Tony, Peter, Adam, Ty, Heather, and me–plus a bonus Jake who is impressively recovering from his motorcycle wreck.) Adam and Heather saw each other for the first time in 10 years and their hug was the greatest thing I’ve seen in a while.

I wish I had taken a picture of the cake; Peter and Tony had Schnucks write “FREEDOM” on the top. This is one of our favorite jokes, because when Ty was grounded for a month during our senior year of high school, we would scream, “FREEDOM!” out the window every time we drove by his house. Sometimes we would take an extra trip around the block to scream it twice.

“Remember that, Cathy?” we asked his mom gleefully at the party, and she just rolled her eyes and laughed. Ty’s mom is awesome.

I did warn Justin in advance: “She will hug you. A lot. And maybe scream. And she’ll tell you that she knew we would get married from our first picture.”

So when Heather and her husband walked in and she spotted him, she paused and said, “I have to be weird. Okay?” Then she opened her arms and waved him over. “Come here.” After the longest hug, she held his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “So, I knew from the first picture …”

I also met Heather’s husband for the first time; he is perfect.

“Stephanie knows me so well,” she told him. “I mean, what do I always want when I’ve had a bad day?” she said.

“My penis,” he answered with no hesitation. Then: “I’m sorry. My enormous penis.”

Later, after Tony proclaimed that his fiance has a “donk”, Heather made us all look at her ass. This happened just before she left, too, in the presence of Ty’s mom and her boyfriend. “LOOK AT IT. IT’S AMAZING. YOU WILL NEVER SEE A BETTER ASS THAN THIS. LOOK AT IT. LOOK.”

Point of story: I fucking love Heather. I’ve known her since 4th grade. She’s a good egg.

Other point of story: Justin survived my friends. He’s a keeper. (Though, he has yet to meet the Scandalous Rach(a)els.)

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Game, Set, Match

We just signed the contracts and booked the venue, which means we’ve officially set the date! Although, after all of the paperwork and handing over a $1,500 deposit, we kind of feel like we got married already.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some celebration alligator sausage cheesecake to eat before I become a fitness and calorie-obsessed crazy lady.

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Filed under Weddings