Unapologetically Mundane » everyone’s married but katie

Love is Patient. Love is Kind. Love Does Not Steal Your Robot Cookie.

katie ett — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 19:30:42 +0000

After a bazillion years of dating, my former co-worker, Eric, and his girlfriend, Christine, finally decided to stop living together in sin and started planning their wedding in her hometown of Miami. She whispered the date to me one night at my office dinner club and asked if I could come, and I said I probably couldn’t swing a plane ticket for the wedding and Thanksgiving in Ohio in the same month. And then I of course bought the ticket to Miami, like, the next day. My roommate/landlord/co-worker/friend, Jack, was also representing the not-Eric’s-friend-from-college contingent, so we flew down one night a couple of weeks ago after work for a whirlwind weekend filled with not wearing sandals, one of the best weddings ever, and so many stolen robot cookies.

Jack and I had just the morning and afternoon before the wedding to explore Miami, so naturally we didn’t leave our hotel until noon, and then it took $40 and a ridiculous amount of time to get from our hotel to South Beach, ten miles away. That was the weird thing about Miami: everything looks super-close on the map but never actually is. Since we’re used to walking everywhere in NYC, we thought it’d be no problem to walk across the bridge to South Beach, and then Google told us it would take three hours. So we ended up taking taxis everywhere, which was a different experience in that you call independent companies to come pick you up instead of just walking out your front door and hailing one of a thousand passing cabs, and some guy shows up in what might be his personal car with a backseat full of fast food wrappers. In a way, it’s cool, because you can’t call yellow cabs here and are sometimes left waiting for ten minutes at the side of the road on Saturday nights or when it rains, but in another way, I like the big divider that separates me from my cab driver here and makes him seem more like someone I’ve hired to do my bidding and less like my dad driving me home from the mall in his ’92 Toyota Camry or whatever.

Anyway, once we got to South Beach, we beelined for this restaurant Jack had picked out on Yelp. You know, despite the fact that I have an acclaimed palate and have been professionally critiquing food for the past three years. (Just kidding.) But seriously, I had bookmarked three or four restaurants that had four and five stars and would serve us an authentic Cuban sandwich, but Jack felt like he needed brunch. Brunch. In South Beach. But it was fine (three donuts and no more, if I was reviewing it for donuts4dinner.com), and then we had the rest of the afternoon to walk along the boardwalk separating the beach from the fancy hotels that seem to be having boozy pool parties all day long.

The beach was cuh-RAZY beautiful and totally put our beloved Hamptons to shame, but of course we were idiot Northerners wearing jeans and sneakers and absolutely no sunblock, so I basically ran out onto the beach to take these shots and then ran back in under the shade of the palm trees. We passed all sorts of adorable restaurants blowing mist from fans onto patios full of people sipping giant frozen drinks and then caught a taxi back to the hotel to get ready for the wedding. And by “get ready”, I mean “put some pretty clothes on over our sweat”.

Jack looking swank

The wedding took place at a hotel on a tiny island surrounded by palm trees

with a great view of the mainland

and was casual enough that we could talk to the groom on the hotel’s generous veranda beforehand but formal enough that we were not allowed to wear flip-flops, the wedding website proclaimed. We were served champagne before Christine walked down the aisle in order to make the ceremony bearable, but it was short and sweet and needed no such bribery.

this guy with all of the shoulder would NOT get out of my picture

I do notice that I totally Photoshopped this picture below way more yellow than the picture above, but I’m still stinging from the fact that Eric and Christine didn’t hire me as their totally-unpaid-wedding-photographer, so I’m not going to fix it.

This isn’t the kiss picture, but I just love how happy both Eric and the minister look. She thought Eric and Christine were destined for a long and happy marriage because they were both so attentive at their pre-wedding meetings with her, but little did she know that they’re just a couple of do-gooding nerds who were programmed to pay attention in school.

I can’t tell if Eric is pumping his fist and saying, “MARRIED! YUSS!” or if he’s thumb-pointing to himself and saying, “Who’s married? THIS GUY!”, but I like it either way.

Are those . . . blue flip-flops . . . peeking out from under Christine’s dress? DESPITE HER SPECIFICALLY TELLING ME I COULDN’T WEAR FLIP-FLOPS?

The table settings included diskettes with our names on them (but nothing actually stored in the memory–Jack asked)

and robot cookies that Jack requested to eat repeatedly throughout the evening and that I told him not to eat over and over. Well, at one point, we left the table, and when we came back, my cookie was gone. And then, after a billion years of dancing, we went outside to cool off in the less-cool-than-inside outdoors, and when we returned, Jack’s cookie was also gone. AND I KNOW WHO DID IT.

So tell your middle brother we hope he enjoyed the cookies, Eric, because he is dead to us now.

(j/k, j/k)

The reception started off with Eric and Christine’s first dance and ended with some robot cake

but in the middle was one of the most awesomely-planned weddings ever. They had a live band that legitimately did not suck, and right after Eric and Christine’s first dance, the band brought us all to the floor to dance. And then they sent us back to our tables to eat our crabcakes while Christine and her dad danced and Eric and his mom danced. And then they brought us all back out to dance. And then they sent us back to our tables to eat our salads while Christine’s dad gave this incredibly involved speech about how wonderful every single member of his family, including himself, is. (And I only say that a little bit mockingly, because I would want my dad to give the same speech at my wedding.) And then the band brought us back out again.

It went on like this until 11 p.m., when the band’s time was up. By this time, they had played “Livin’ on a Prayer”, “Don’t Stop Believin’” (can you believe both of those songs have dropped Gs?), and my very favourite ironic song of the moment, Enrique Iglesias’s “I Like It“. And we danced to every single one of them. With very little alcohol needed.

And then the next day we went to Christine’s parents’ house and ate all of their bagels to make up for not getting any robot cookies. We win.

Congratulations, Eric and Christine! We love you and promise to actually buy you a wedding gift someday!

Five Days and Fifty Photos from Ohio

plumpdumpling — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 16:00:30 +0000

Remember how I went to Ohio on June 8th for my cousin Bethany’s graduation from vet school? No? Me neither. But here are some pictures that prove I was there or am at least really good at Photoshop!

My best friend, Tracey, was teaching a papercrafting class at the Columbus Museum of Art’s Craftacular Spectacular event, so we arrived early to take lewd pictures of her

in the “Don’t Eat the Art” exhibit

before giving in to our basest desires and dipping our hands into the rhinestone, glitter, and button bucket:

Apparently all of the students at the nearby Columbus College of Art and Design hated this sign when it went in outside the art museum (I believe it’s referred to as the “FART sign”), but I love it:

That night, we were supposed to go dancing at Skully’s as always, but I realized I’d only brought flip-flops and heels home. You can never have too many Chucks, so I was naturally pleased for an excuse to buy some new ones to leave at Tracey’s house. She was naturally pleased to be given an opportunity to step all over them with her own beer-drenched Chucks as we danced, because nothing looks so disgustingly new as new Chucks:

The next afternoon, I went to the HISTORIC Marcy Diner near my childhood home–which amazingly has a website that includes mention of the “pop” they sell–with my dad to eat $1 coney dogs. AND SOMEHOW DID NOT TAKE A SINGLE PICTURE OF THE EVENT. But you can bet it was a better hot-dog-eating experience than any I’ve had in fancypants New York City.

That night, I went to a big swanky vet school soiree with my cousin, Bethany, that Ohio State president E. Gordon Gee seemed to randomly happen upon, like he was taking a shortcut through the ballroom in the student union without realizing there was anything going on in there. Everyone was taking pictures with him, and I was all, “Wait, why?”, but this is for Bethany:

The next night, I went to dinner with Bethany and her family, and we spotted this gem in the Barnes & Noble parking lot:

Afterward, we went to her Doctor of Veterinary Medicine hooding ceremony. I guess this is a hooding:

I call it a choking.

She was simultaneously totally annoyed by all of the pictures I took and secretly thinking she was Wonder Woman:

Then we went to Applebee’s (!) for drinks (!), and Bethany’s brother paid for the whole shebang but not before complaining about Bethany’s $6.50 cocktail. I was confused until they informed me that $6.50 is actually expensive for a drink, and the $16 I’m now used to paying in NYC is offensive.

The next day, my dad and I skipped church (!) and went to Rooster’s for lunch instead of our usual Bob Evans. Adventurous! Then we came back to the house and watched my stepsister, Jenny, shave her girls’ 4-H pigs, which are being kept in my dad’s and stepmom’s back yard. Appaaaaaaaaaarently, 4-H judges think they look better when they’re hairless:

I think they’re the cutest things ever no matter what:

But especially when they’re being fed marshmallows:

Before I’d come home, a giant storm took out trees and power lines all over Ohio, and my family’s compound suffered some wild damage. Not only did a tree fall over onto the front porch, but the limb of another blew off onto the garage, revealing that it was hollow inside! And full of bees!:

That night, Tracey and I went to visit our longtime other best friend, Katie, her daughters Maria

and Evelyn (who looks like Toby from Labyrinth, Tracey decided this week),

and her husband-whom-I-introduced-her-to-because-I’m-the-best-matchmaker-ever-but-only-because-I-tried-to-date-him-first-and-he-totally-rejected-me-but-I-still-love-him, Nick:

After being served dinner by Katie, we all went to the backyard so I could take wildly adorable family pictures of them:

and then we watered Katie’s garden.

Well, Katie watered her garden.

The rest of us played in the water.

Well, some of us played in the water while some of us licked the water from the watering can:

Then we went back inside to enjoy the Cheesecake Factory desserts Tracey had brought (the only Cheesecake Factory I had on the entire trip!) and to watch Katie play with her new toy:

Until Tracey got too jealous and needed to see how much she remembered from her one quarter of string instrument training while getting her music education degree at OSU:

And that was it! Tracey and I spent the next day chowing on pizza and Graeter’s ice cream at the mall, and then she dropped me off at the airport so I could return to my babyless, pigless, expensive-drink world.

I Will Never Again Go to a Wedding Without a Cookie Bar

plumpdumpling — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 18:30:53 +0000

Our whole reason for going to California, despite what you may think, was not to remind me how ugly and dirty NYC is compared to the rest of the country. It was mostly for that, but it was also in part to see Kamran’s long-time friend Diana get married to her long-time boyfriend, Phil, who she already did freakily-adult things with like buy a house.

The ceremony was outdoors at the University Club of the University of California Irvine. There were little trellises and gazebos everywhere, Diana was possibly the most beautiful bride in history (oh, um, except for my best friend, Tracey, of course . . . oh, and my sister . . . any other loved ones I’m forgetting?), and her dad was about the cutest dad ever (I can say that since mine doesn’t read my blog):

All of my pictures of the ceremony itself have various members of Diana’s family blocking her and Phil because they were all so excited to take pictures of their own and kept popping out of their seats, but here’s a shot of them walking away as man and wife with Diana grabbing Phil’s butt:

And here’s a closeup of the lady in the background running to get out of their way that cracks me up:

Here’s Kamran and Diana inside the University Club library, and neither of them is drunk at this point, despite Kamran’s too-relaxed eyes:

When we got bored of making fun of Diana’s other guests and just wanted to get at our plated dinners, we went outside to take advantage of our dress-up clothes:

And then we made nice with a table full of strangers–one of whom, to my delight, took photos of her food to post on Facebook–while eating juicy steaks, sipping huge Long Island Iced Teas in honor of the land we’d left behind, and watching this video slideshow of the most embarrassing photos from Diana’s giant-glasses phase. As we left, we made a stop at the cookie bar and loaded up a sack for our drive back to Laguna.

But not before snapping a photo of this photo display of themselves in the lobby of the University Club, because I swear that picture on the top right looks like underwear.

I’m right, right?

Why Life is So Great Right Now

plumpdumpling — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 16:00:49 +0000

1) Last weekend, I was out all afternoon on the hottest day of the year, and Kamran texted me at one point to say that he thought the air conditioner had stopped working. I arrived at his apartment later with a couple of iced coffees just to make fun of him and his overactive imagination, but no, there was definitely warm air coming out of his vent. We spent the remainder of the night sitting perfectly still on the couch, afraid that moving would allow the sweat rivers dammed in our hair to unleash on our foreheads. It. Was. Miserable.

Way wore than the night we lost power in my apartment, because Kamran lives in a studio with windows on only one side of the room, so there’s no way to create a cross breeze unless you open the door. And I wouldn’t have been entirely opposed to propping the door if New Yorkers weren’t so infamously curious about other people’s habitats; you know every single person who walked by would’ve stopped dead to watch us gnawing on ice as we watched Manhunter.

I texted my best friend, Tracey, about it, and she suggested I fly to Ohio and enjoy her central air. I also considered going back to my own apartment, figuring that a single wall unit for all 900 square feet was better than nothing, but I didn’t want to leave Kamran alone with his take-home law school exams. We went to bed around midnight, but Kamran woke up at 2 a.m. feeling like he was having trouble breathing and thinking we’d need to go to a hotel, which made me EXCITED. But then he remembered a box fan hidden in the back of one of his closets and aimed it right at us so we could at least not die during the night.

Two days later–after his exams were all finished, of course–his landlord graciously had a guy come and install a brand new unit with a timer and remote control so we never have to leave the couch again.

2) You may think of me as some huge important chef thanks to my starring role in Julie & Julia and my wildly popular food blog, but the truth is that about the most I do is heat up some hotdogs for breakfast in Kamran’s convection oven. But his oven went out in March, and we kind of didn’t bother to do anything about it, which means I’ve been heating up my hotdogs in skillets.

Skillets.

But early this week, when the new air conditioner went in, the landlord also sent him a new microwave. A huge one, with a light underneath to illuminate the stovetop, and a vent on top to keep the apartment from smelling like pigparts.

3) Last night, I met Kamran to go shopping for toilet paper (romantic!), and as we were leaving Duane Reade (a pharmacy that got its start in NYC at the corner of Duane Street and Reade Street–clever!), I realized that it was my chance to buy my favourite generic lipgloss, which I’ve been without for several months now but have been too lazy to walk an extra block to the Duane Reade for because the CVS near his house is so much nicer. I forget sometimes that the littlest things can make such a huge difference to my happiness.

4) I’m in Ohio for the weekend for my stepsister’s wedding! This means I’m the only one of the five of us kids who isn’t married. Last time I was home, I told my grandmother that Kamran and I are going to California to visit his parents early next month, and she said, “Oooooh, are you going to pin him down while you’re there?” And I said, “Um, haven’t I done that already? We’ve been together almost four years now. The only thing we haven’t done is move in together.” She didn’t like that.

And you?

Ohio Weekend Photodump!

plumpdumpling — Tue, 25 May 2010 16:00:26 +0000

My second-cousin Keith got an elbow to the stomach from his new bride, Rachael. Their wedding photographer only seemed to be taking super-serious photos, so I felt self-righteous about this one.

But then Keith made the photographer let the groomsmen pose for this picture, and all was right with the world again.

My cousin, Bethany, and my sister, Joanie, were in attendance and looking as stunning/ridiculous as ever.

I attempted to teach my 85-year-old great-uncle to use the laptop I bought him while my best friend, Tracey explained the Internet to my great-aunt:

Tracey: You can use Google to search for anything!
Crazy Aunt Dorothy: Oh, we don’t want that.
Tracey: It’s just a website you go to if you want to look something up.
Crazy Aunt Dorothy: We don’t really need the Internet. Just take us to that Circleville Pumpkin Show website.
Tracey: Uhh . . .

Tracey took me to a movie at the indie theatre in Columbus, the Drexel, and the ceiling fan vent looked like giant-sized art to us. But maybe that’s because it was midnight and we were running on five hours of sleep.

Tracey’s cat is a wild animal. I go home to visit pets as much as people these days because I like her cats so much. Except when I wake up on her couch in the middle of the night to see one of them flying over my head with his claws outstretched as he jumps from armrest to armrest.

I also went to an 80s dance party, ate the Splenda cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory for the first time, visited my friend Katie and was forced to hold her six-day-old baby (Evelyn) but did not drop her, went to visit my cousin Ethan and his six-day-old baby (Kaydence) and used my newfound not-dropping-baby skills to also hold her, celebrated my sister’s birthday with our parents and her husband, and explained to my parents that the smoke monster in “Lost” makes the same sound that a taxicab’s meter does.

I really, really love going home.

As If eHarmony Hasn’t Been Made Fun of Enough

plumpdumpling — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 17:17:43 +0000

I know you’re supposed to be all happy for other couples when you’re in love, but yesterday, I found myself watching this commercial and thinking, “My greatest hope is that their relationship will end in a bitter, drag-out divorce”:

It’s the “I didn’t need the Internet back when I was into scoring random hos/hoes at bars, but my mom told me I need to keep it in my pants now” line that really makes me want to see him unhappy, I think.

Of course, I’ve always wanted to see these two fail miserably, but only because their painting o’ love is so sad. It includes a handprint, for God’s sake:

I swear I’m totally happy myself, though.

The Week of Tracey’s Wedding Minus the Wedding Itself

plumpdumpling — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 18:13:06 +0000

Before I get into all the to-do surrounding my best friend Tracey’s wedding, allow me to showcase the other awesomeness that occurred during my five-day trip back home to Ohio.

After picking me up at the airport on Tuesday night as is tradition, Tracey whisked me back to her apartment to see if three months of working out every day and eating only half as many quesadillas as I would’ve liked made me lose the FIVE INCHES I needed to in order to fit into the lovely black satin and tulle bridesmaid’s dress she’d purchased for me.

Finding that I still needed at least a half an inch less flesh to get the thing zipped, we drove down the street to Walmart (yes, Walmart) and bought two body-shaping corset things. But it turns out that they’re not like getting liposuction at all. Even the one that was so tight I had to bend over and hold on to the dining room table while Tracey attempted to snap it closed didn’t work. Tracey calmly told me that maybe we should’ve just had the dress altered back in December when I first found out I’d had her buy it way too small, but I appreciated the motivation, and hey, I did manage to lose at least four inches. So suck it, Tracey.

The next afternoon, after a trip to the fabric store, she drove me down to our hometown to visit our old neighbor, who happens to make wedding gowns for a living. Her scrapbook full of bridesmaid’s dresses from the 80s with puffy sleeves made out of what looked like floral-print carpet were a real treat, but the best part of the day was chasing her six pet chickens around the yard, where they freely roam:

SO COUNTRY!

That evening, I went over to visit my friends Katie and Nick, who are married and have a home and a baby and cook dinner and seem totally weird to me:

I’ve been friends with Katie since we were in the womb and met Nick in college while working at the science museum in Columbus where Tracey would have her wedding, and since I set them up, I take particular interest in their relationship and pretty much claim their kid as my own, because 10-month-old Baby Maria is sort of the cutest thing ever:

Even my dad agrees that a baby has never been cuter, and as my father, he’s not technically allowed to say that.

Visiting them makes me feel like living in our hometown wouldn’t be the worst idea possible, because they have things like a finished basement with a bar!:

Where they have things like creme de menthe on hand at all times!:

And where they teach their children to be lushes!:

Ohio is HEAVEN, I tell you! Listening to David Bowie on vinyl, drinking homemade cocktails, and tossing balls at a baby on a pool table:

The next morning, I went with my dad to get the tires changed on his truck, which turned out to be an hour of standing around, listening to men talk about how hard it must be for stock car racers in an economy like this with the cost of tires so high. My dad is an enviable small-talker, so I busied myself with Chubby, the garage dog who eats nuts, bolts, and scrap rubber:

You can’t tell, but Chubby is chewing on a hex wrench here.

But the best part of the garage were these words stenciled all over the floor, not that I’m elitist or judgemental:

So, who’s coming back with me next time?

Another Wedding in Ohio Yay!

plumpdumpling — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 14:01:11 +0000

I’m going to Ohio tonight, because Tracey and Dan are getting married on Saturday! Even though we both agree that societal conventions like marriage are ridiculous! And Tracey’s going to take his last name to boot! I’m using exclamation points sarcastically to voice my displeasure!

No, no, I kid. I mean, come on, look how cute they are together!:

Plus it means an excuse to see my dad!:

And my recently-married little sis!:

And my other friend for life, Katie, who no longer has a pregnant belly for me to gnaw on!:

But it’s really all about this one!:

Best friends montage!:

These are the times when living away from my friends-since-we-were-babies especially sucks. One of Tracey’s other bridesmaids had to plan her shower, and I just got to fly in back in January and enjoy it. And Tracey somehow feels like she has to make up for me having to buy a plane ticket in for the wedding, even though I’m the one who moved away. And when she and Dan should be enjoying their last moments of unwedded freedom, I’m going to be tagging along to their romantic dinners and forcing Dan to entertain himself otherwise while I play hours and hours of Scene It? with Tracey. Ahhhhh, the life I lead.

My sister is a Mrs.! (But her last name is hyphenated, and that makes it okay.)

plumpdumpling — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 15:58:57 +0000

This post is entirely for me and not at all for you, so just scroll through the pictures quietly and don’t even think of complaining about how long it is.

Okay, I’m just going to get it out of the way and say that my sister’s wedding was the best wedding ever. In history. And that there’s no reason for anyone else to get married, because all weddings will pale in comparison and will only serve to make every bride and groom from here on out reconsider whether marriage was the right choice for them what with all of their imperfections being brought to light before all of their family and friends. AND GOD.

So as I was leaving work at 12:30 last Tuesday for the airport, my best friend Tracey texted me to say that her fiancé would be picking me up due to the forthcoming snow and freezing rain. I called her immediately and was like, “Bitch, no. You are a whining asshole baby, and you WILL be at the airport at 5:30.” And she was.

So were about 42 inches of snow, along with ice that coated all the trees, cars, and cats in sight:

We braved the weather long enough to pick up my dark red strapless bridesmaid’s dress at David’s Bridal–that’s right! mere days before the wedding, having not tried it on since November!–and then settled in for the evening at her apartment, where we ended up being snowbound for the next two days.

The drive from Ohio to Kentucky with my parents was three hours of blurry, icy trees

which led to four hours of nonstop fun at the rehearsal at the groom’s parents’ church. It was the most perfect setting for a wedding, with a huge cross cut out in glass at the front, giant ceilings, pews that were interestingly bright blue, and a glass door in the back for the bride and groom to walk through:

The afternoon started out joyous enough

but after an hour of making decisions about when the boys were walking in, when the girls were walking in, and which candelabra was getting lit when, Joanie the Bride was ready to get it all over with:

Luckily, there were her five stunning bridesmaids

From left: her incredible sister Katie, her friends Miranda and Kayla,
the bride herself, her best friend Jessica, and her friend Cindy

posing for dirty pictures on the piano

and her future husband staring at her boobs

to cheer her up. And so the rehearsal started:

My favourite part is when the minister asks who’s giving the bride away
and our dad answers, “Her mother and I,” before realizing that hey,
her mother’s dead, and maybe she doesn’t want our stepmom being called
her mother, but no, we love our stepmom and consider her the best
stand-in possible, and a good laugh is shared by all later.

Joanie’s friends are so much fun that we couldn’t stop laughing all night, and despite mean looks from both the minister and Joanie every time we made a scene, we knew the bride was secretly on our team. She made it not-so-secret when the minister practiced presenting her and Josh to the audience for the first time as Mr. and Mrs., “Everlasting Love” played over the church speakers, and Joanie couldn’t help but dance down the aisle. Every single time they did it. I couldn’t have been happier that my sister had chosen such a non-traditional ceremony.

Dinner was in the kitchen of the church and was perfectly wonderful until Joanie decided to pass out our bridesmaid jewelry and Kayla caught her tissue paper on fire. Unsure of how to handle it, she exclaimed to Josh the Groom, “You’re a man! Do something!” And so Caffeine Free Diet Coke was poured onto the table, leaving quite an unsightly aftermath:

Joanie and Josh had decided against a DJ and had instead rented a DJ-in-a-Box, which lets you program your own playlists but can also basically be used as a jukebox where guests can search for a song they want to hear. So instead of, say, resting on the night before her wedding, Joanie stayed up late with our cousin Bethany, our friend Michelle, and me, doing karaoke and teaching us the Cupid Shuffle for use at her reception:

The next morning, Bethany, Michelle, and I went over early to the reception hall with Josh to decorate

and admire the cakes, one of which was classy with pearls and ribbon

and one of which was meant for BOYS (and Bethany):

We went back to Josh and Joanie’s house to shower, and then Joanie drove me to the church, where we met her photographer and her bridesmaids to apply our makeup

and to flatten and hairspray my hair into what looked like a helmet. We sequestered ourselves in the church’s kitchen to dress ourselves, to each take a turn touching Joanie’s boobs

and to convince Joanie that snow boots weren’t proper footwear for a wedding day (even though I was obviously wearing Crocs):

However, it was later decided that strappy sandals weren’t exactly proper, either, when the photographer had us venture outside to take pictures in the snow. I didn’t bring my camera out with me stupidly, so you’ll just have to imagine how totally beautiful my little sister was standing in the middle of a field, surrounded by nothing but whiteness. Half of the time she was wearing her cream-colored pea coat, and half of the time we bridesmaids were all cuddling around her to keep her warm. And then the photographer posed her in the gazebo behind the church with icicles falling all over it. Miranda was wearing open-toed shoes, and Cindy actually had to take her heels off and walk barefoot in the snow to keep from slipping on the ice, but all of the hypothermia in the world would’ve been worth it for those shots.

We went back inside for more photos before the guests arrived, and of course I couldn’t allow any of them to turn out decently:

but I wasn’t the only one having a good time:

Look at her little socks!

I sorta want to get married just for the pictures.

Dad was incredibly happy before the ceremony

but then pretty much cried nonstop from the moment he stepped into the church, and for good reason. Joanie chose the music of “Edelweiss” for her walk down the aisle with Dad, for God’s sake. And Josh’s dad sang “Can’t Help Falling in Love“. And they took all of the crappy misogynist Bible stuff out of the minister’s monologues and just left the pretty Bible stuff. And Joanie and Josh just looked so happy that for half a second, I thought, Marriage is so wonderful! I want to get married! But then I realized that no, weddings are wonderful, and marriage still sucks.

I smiled literally throughout the entire ceremony, though. Especially when our parents sang “It’s Your Love“, which made my eyes well up from my dad’s first yeeeeeeeah-aaaaah-aaaaah-aah. But I wouldn’t let myself cry, because I was wearing a hell of a lot of eyeliner, and let’s not kid ourselves about my priorities.

I was impressed with how well Josh held up during his vows, but Joanie only made it about two words in before her voice cracked, and the rest of her vows were adorably barely audible. Co-maid-of-honor Jessica later told me that when Joanie reached back to hand her bouquet over so she could hold Josh’s hands and exchange their rings, the tissue she had been holding was completely soaked from sweat. So charming!

After Joanie re-did her makeup on the one eye that she’d wiped too much during the ceremony and we took pictures with various family members who would’ve disowned us had we not included them, I rode with Joanie and Josh to the reception hall. Cousin Bethany was waiting by the DJ-in-a-Box to press the button that played “Sandstorm” and announced to the crowd that the bride and groom had arrived. It was totally cheesy and totally awesome.

What I loved about their reception is that it was completely informal. There were no seating assignments, no one releasing the tables to the buffet at specific intervals, no ridiculous groom pulling the garter off the bride’s leg with his teeth. Josh’s family made all of the food, so it was exactly what they wanted, and they basically just sat back at the head table and let people shower money on them.

After all of the cured meats and mini cheesecakes had been devoured, Josh pushed a button on the DJ-in-a-Box and grabbed Joanie for their first dance, which was to Ben Folds’ “The Luckiest“:

Then it was time to cut the classy cake, which didn’t involve smearing icing all over anyone’s face, much to my chagrin:

Hours later, most of our family had gone back to their hotel for a cannonball contest in the pool, and most of our friends had gone back to their homes in Kentucky or Ohio, but Dad wanted to get his line dance on, so we headed back to Joanie’s house to change into our best country and western duds and then went to have a few drinks at a barn/bar full of college kids. Which led to Cousin Bethany thinking she could bull ride:

So that’s it, a wedding so good it made me almost rethink marriage. And in closing, I offer you this, the picture that pretty much sums up my relationship with my sister perfectly:

I’m saying, “Yay! Whee! I love you!”, and she’s like, “Hold on, bitch. I’m fixing my hair.”

White Wedding (Literally)

plumpdumpling — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 14:46:49 +0000

This pretty much sums up my trip home to Ohio and then on to Kentucky to see my only sister get married:

Snow.

Ice.

Super fun happy sister time! (with gum)

A seriously excited, seriously lovely bride.

A lengthy rundown complete with 10,000 photos to follow.

Don’t Do Something We’ll Both Regret

plumpdumpling — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 15:30:29 +0000

Today at noon, I leave for three days in Ohio and then two days in Kentucky to see my baby sister GET MARRIED. Seeing as how we agreed long ago to never, ever wed, I obviously feel very betrayed by this. She and her fiancé have been together for more than three years and already own a house together, so this marriage is totally unnecessary and clearly just a way of hurting me.

However, I’m going to look awesome in my dark red bridesmaid’s dress that she picked out, so I forgive her.

But just in case this wedding is only a means of making it more socially acceptable when Joanie and Josh start having millions of babies (in Kentucky, no less), I just want to remind her of this picture of her holding our cousin’s son during Thanksgiving dinner:

Take the feeling you felt here and multiply it by ten thousand, Joanie.
And then imagine feeling it every moment of every day.
This is what it’s like to have a baby.

(Thank you and goodnight to all of my baby-owning friends out there.)

You Can Take My Childhood, but You’ll Never Take My FREEDOM

plumpdumpling — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 20:22:56 +0000

This morning, one of the blog writers I just started to follow wrote the following:

I’d love to write about parties and dates and where I went to eat. Impress you with the cutting-edge emo playlists on my iPod and casually mention that I caught such-and-such eyeliner-and-irony-clad band at a hole in the wall bar the other night.

At this point in my life, those stories would include a lot of Hot Wheels, mad dashes to the early movie, and tales of Ruby Tuesdays. My iPod playlists are full of songs to keep toddlers quiet while I’m on conference calls in the car.

Sweet, right? Snore.

And I was like, “OMG, please never let me grow up.” I get that women’s feelings apparently change hardcore after they have children, and I’m told that even I may devolve into something nurturing and selfless was I ever to give birth, but not being encumbered by adult stuff feels so good. As Dr. Boyfriend said after spending time with his married/babied friends over the holiday break, “I really appreciate the little life we’ve made for ourselves.” That little life being one that involves never eating dinner at home, dancing on Friday nights, and non-stop caring only for ourselves.

So in celebration of my perpetual youth, I offer you:

My (unexpected) teenage celebrity crush, which is not really a crush but an example
of how I’d like to conduct myself if I was to become famous. Look how cool his wave is.

My overly-emo song of the moment.

My really amazing birthday dessert sampler at Max Brenner that included
POP ROCKS covered in liquid chocolate.

And my best friend and me, looking soooooo badass
on New Year’s Eve at our friends’ house party. (No?)

Sure, most of that party was spent taking pictures of their baby eating the husband’s nose

but I was wearing my homemade Bulletproof necklace while photographing, so they cancel each other out and leave nothing but my natural hardcoreness and me.

My Last Trip to Ohio in Ten Words and Eighty Pictures

plumpdumpling — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 17:30:47 +0000

I’m leaving for a week in my home state of Ohio tomorrow night at 7:45 p.m. To give you an idea of how that might look, here’s some photographic evidence from my last weekend trip back in April:

I went dancing at Skully’s Music-Diner with some of my best old friends from back.in.the.day, including my best best friend, Tracey:

It was totally raining, but we still managed to look TOTALLY BADASS, no?:

Tracey and I attempted boob-touching photos, but people kept trying to cover the camera at the last moment to keep our sin hidden from the world. Still, we’d say we prevailed:

Then I watched my grandmother–who is like the exact opposite of me when it comes to being able to tan, right?–get married in my old hometown church:

and spent some quality time with my family, including my dad–who is a farmer and has an excuse for being creepily tan–:

and my little sister, who let me take lame engagementy photos of her and her fiancee:

Then Tracey and I went to our friend-since-we-were-born Katie’s baby shower and made a mockery of the whole thing by pretending the baby shower was actually for me:

and by possibly making out with her husband:

This time, I have more dancing, my cousin’s wedding, pin-curling my hair with my old college roommate, visiting Katie’s baby, going to as many superstores as I can with Tracey to make up for half a year of shopping in tiny bodegas, and generally thinking about how much more time I’d have to be creative if I lived in Ohio.

I’m only mad that she’s not marrying ME.

plumpdumpling — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 15:34:10 +0000

Saturday night while I was bowling, my best friend Tracey texted me to say, “I’ll be up late if you want to call me when you’re done!” When what she really meant was, “OMG OMG CALL ME NOW YOU STUPID WHORE BECAUSE I’M DYING TO TELL YOU THAT I JUST GOT ENGAGED !!!!!”

So after weeks of badmouthing her boyfriend for spending money on DVDs and flatscreen monitors when he needed to be saving up for a ring, it turned out that he already had the perfect white gold princess cut number and had been saving it for the right moment. That moment was oddly when Tracey was at work in the science museum and no one was around to videotape any of it for best friends and future generations, but we’ll forgive Dan for that based solely on his clever use of a Nintendo DS in his proposal. Because we are nerds.

So please join me in congratulating the smartest, funniest, most generous girl I know and her geekily romantic sweetheart on their engagement.

Why, yes, that is an Applebee’s box that Dan changed to say Applebutts.

And please remind them that all plans should be based on my availability and that I can’t afford to come home for a fifth wedding this year.

Unapologetically Mundane » everyone’s married but katie

Love is Patient. Love is Kind. Love Does Not Steal Your Robot Cookie.

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