Breaking Bride

Sorry for the lack of posts; I am getting RILL sick of talking about myself.

7 more weeks of answering questions and harassing people and stressing about literally every worst case scenario, then an avalanche of Iceland pictures, and then hopefully I will get back to regular blogging about … home renovations? Recipes? Fertility? What the hell do married people blog about? (I keed, but really. Nothing will be as interesting as when I was single; sorry.)

My RSVP due date is aligning nicely with my PMS, resulting in some hilarious silent rage and borderline passive-aggressive texts on my end.

Meanwhile I have been doing a lot of “Blogging for Lazy People” aka Tumblr.* You can find me at secretlystephie.tumblr.com.

Mortified Monday update: I haven’t really lost weight but I’ve been noticing some serious Michelle Obama muscles on my arms and I actually wore size 6 skinny jeans without being run out of town with pitchforks. So maybe that “muscle weighs more than fat” thing isn’t just a lie that I tell myself when I’m fat? Anyway, these days I have enough teeth bleach and spray tan in my system to feel pretty in spite of my weight, so whatever.

*I don’t want to hear your sass, Erin; rebloggling is lay-zay.

The Dave Painting

Last weekend, my work friends and I threw a surprise 30th birthday party for our friend Ben. 90% of the hilarity that ensued is based on inside jokes or Breaking Bad humor (homemade blue rock candy, anyone?), but I need to tell you about Dave’s painting.

Dave and his wife hosted the party in their gorgeous new house, and he mentioned some of the things that he found in the move. Many of my co-workers have known each other for at least a decade, so when he mentioned the painting they all cracked up. But since Justin, Liz and I are a little new to the party, he told us the story.

Dave had a cleaning lady who would sometimes buy him strange presents. “But she wouldn’t give them to me; she would just put them on my mantel or nightstand.” When he would ask her about them, she would just say, “Oh, I thought that would look nice there.”

“Then,” Dave said, “She just started rearranging my furniture? Like full rooms. Without asking.”

“And then I guess I left some pictures of me laying around? Old ones,” he continued. “And then one day, she said, ‘I painted this for you.'”

And then

she gave

him this:

.
Did she sign it? No. She kissed the back:

“AAAAAND that’s when I fired her.”

P.S. Look at Kim’s Bencakes!

 

Things I Am Afraid Will Happen On My Wedding Day

• Conversations about politics.
• Someone freaks out about my “something blue“.
• My fake tooth falls out.
• My dress rips.
• My Grandma dies.
• Grandma calls me fat.
• Grandma calls one of my friends fat.
• Grandma sees Erin and Rachael’s tattoos, then dies.
• Our family members’ reaction to Rob. Any reaction. This will be weird.
• My parents’ friends try to “save” my friends who are gay.
• I cry my fake eyelashes off in front of everyone.
• I spend my whole wedding like I always spend weddings: drunk on the smoking patio.
• Grandma will ask my bosses to give me a raise.
• I TRIP WHILE WALKING DOWN THE AISLE NOOO
• I pull a, “Take thee, Rachel” even though I’m not in love with someone else.
• I develop gall bladder stones and have to get my gall bladder removed.
• I develop kidney stones and have to pee them out on my wedding day.
• I develop Tourettes at the alter. Like, all of a sudden.
• Tony, Peter or Teets ends up hitting on my boss.
• My sister-in-law says something that puts one of my friends in therapy for years.
• My cousin’s husband calls everything “gay”.
• Frank and Erik do a scathing review of my wedding on their podcast. “Two tall, handsome thumbs DOWN.”
• The wedding venue is bombed by North Korea.
• Tony sees my friends and starts telling incredibly dated “hipster jokes”.
• Ty farts just as we are all walking down the aisle.
• Someone gets in a car accident.
• Someone has a seizure.
• Someone has a heart attack.
• Liz’s speech is embarrassing. (I am not worried about Jen’s speech.)
• Justin’s family somehow ends up in East St. Louis.
• My mothers-in-law catch me having a cigarette.
• My hair. Just, you know, in general.
• The DJ makes an error and I have to walk down the aisle to “Fergalicious.”
• My bosses talk to someone who once made a gravity bong on my porch.
• Someone offers to pray for the bride and groom and ends up speaking in tongues.
• Adam throws in a final “big boobs” joke before I am wed, ending a 20-year tradition.
• I get pregnant before the big day (even though I am clearly still a virgin).
• Someone insults the Indiana Hoosiers; a tall, polite riot ensues.