I've been wanting to write for so long but with so little to say it seems pointless just to write so I can hear the keys clacking... But there is so much comfort in that. Back when I used to journal (how old-fashioned) I derived the same comfort from my pen scratching across the page.

Since so few people stop by the blog anymore, sometimes I think about being full on honest about all the thoughts that go through my head. But then I think -- you never know and it's better just to keep it all in.

Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's Lori's fault. Maybe it's the fact that Scott and I are combining all of our crap and I haven't seen my floor in two weeks. Maybe it's the bossanova. Ha ha. I don't know. But I haven't been feeling like myself lately.

I feel boring. I feel naggy. I feel confused.

The naggy is particularly hard, but I know that I AM naggy and can't seem to turn it off. It's just that the things that drive me so crazy are realistically little things -- but would also be little things for him to change/fix/resolve/whatever. The laundry area is 2 FEET from his side of the bed but yet the clothes can't seem to make it there. I have to get up extra early in order to not have us on top of each other in the bathroom. And we're both irritated with one another WAY more often than seems right for newly married people.

And never at the same time.

I think that there's irritation in newlywed life, they just don't include it in those diamond ads.

And it's NOT that I'm unhappy by any stretch, but I am pretty irritated a fair amount of the time. I started smoking more to combat the feelings and to try to self-impose a time out to think about whether I want to go off on the things that bug me or just let them roll.

I still haven't mastered that.

Okay. Want to write more but have to dash for dinner with Mom and Pop.

More sooner than usual -- promise!!

H.
A

on relationships

I want everyone to know that there is a lot about being married that I really enjoy. I love my husband in a thousand different goofy ways. I know that he loves me for many different reasons too -- although he's not always great about showing it.

But what I want to talk about right now is my friendships with women. It really seems as though they are something that has slipped. It seems as though because I have gone into this relationship, this marriage that I am somehow now a different person who doesn't have friendships with women that are as deep and as bonded as they were when I was single.

There are a couple of different reasons for that. For one thing, for many single women "The Relationship" is the ultimate goal of life. I'm not going to lie, I have been (and may still be) one of those women who gets consumed by the relationship. It's very hard not to do this. The focus of many of your get-togethers when you're single is going out where single boys are and flirting with them and whatnot. Perhaps hoping that whatnot can lead to a little something more substantial -- knowing all the while that it never could. So, when you finally find yourself "accidentally in love", you tend to fall into the zone. Doing whatever your male half wants to do, making your plans around his whims and desires. Trying to do things that include both him and your single friends. Trying to create a scenario where your single friends who are also dating can "double" with you and your beloved. Never quite being able to shake the feeling that you are just setting up a "play date" between your boy and her boy.

But another reason is that your friend's also cross you off of a list of available friends. You're not available 24/7 and they don't want you to talk candidly about their failed lives in front of your beloved. They don't want HIM to know all about your warts and pimples. Even if they think he's great, they don't want him to know their flaws. It's not his business. They don't want to be fit in around your Relationship Events, so they make new single friends or put more emphasis on other single friends they have. They throw themselves into the dating scene as well and perhaps pull too hard towards a relationship that is not the right fit for them, just to have things in common with you again.

Then there's the relationship as a cult problem. Once you are in a relationship, some things are so sacred and private and easily misunderstood that you simply don't share them with the outside world for fear of judgment and ridicule. Some of the things are major, some of them are minor and some are just down-right silly. But the bottom line is -- there's some things you just don't share. Some things I don't share just because I have a hard time STOPPING the sharing once it starts and I don't want to give up too much. It's bad for the team which is ultimately bad for the relationship. It does sound cult-like, but there you go. Some things you have to keep in and believe that your beloved holds some of these same things sacred. You don't even talk about it with him.

You can't talk about the things you don't talk about with your friends because he would want to know WHY you would even want to talk about those things in the first place. That's a confusing run-on sentence, I know. But, it's the truth.

I find that my blogging slips as my relationship grows deeper. It used to be that I didn't write in my journal because I was blogging. Now, I'm not blogging because I jot little notes down on a notepad I keep ever-present with me. Little notes that are how I photograph moments for my mind.

I'm not sure how much more I even want or need to blog. But, it's kind of like the diary. I don't want to just flat give it up, but I just can't seem to get myself into a regular habit again. Just seems hard to believe there would be any time in my life in which extemporaneous writing wouldn't have SOME part. Especially since the only time that I never had that in my life I associate with some of the darkest times in my life...

Anyways -- rambled quite a bit.

Now, off to bed.

H.

Sad news on the homefront...  Jasper the kitty is doing pretty poorly and it appears as though we may have to...  you know.
 
So, I thought I would jot some thoughts about Jasper.  Honestly speaking, I have always been a bit jealous of him.  Scott has always completely adored him and has always told him 10,000 times a day how pretty he is and how much he loves him.  Wakes Jasper from a nap to snuggle with him, never leaves the room without telling him what a good boy he is.  Frankly, I'm overly needy in the verbal affection department, so all of this sounded pretty good to me.  I always said I wanted to come back to life as Jasper so I too could be worshipped in my lifetime.
 
But the thing is that Jasper loved Scott just as much and just as unequivocably as Scott loved him.  Came running when Scott called him, brought out his toys when he felt like playing and in general behaved much more like a dog than a cat.  We always told people he was in fact part dog.  And as jealous as I could get over their relationship, it always made me feel really good knowing that I had a man in my life that was capable of such love and devotion to such a small animal.  How can any man be bad that is reduced to babble when talking about his cat?? 
 
Jasper and I had an understanding.  I understood that with me -- he was a cat and with Scott, he was a cat/dog.  He might come when I called him, or he might take a message.  Sometimes he would let himself be seated in my lap and would even pretend to enjoy being petted.  He would act as though he didn't miss me when I was gone, but would secretly hang out with me from time to time.  I knew where I was in the pecking order and frankly, I was just glad to get in a little kitty time.
 
It's not the same without him around.  He had the most beautiful face of any cat you've ever seen -- very long and unusual.  And his meow was always like he was trying to use a stage whisper to get your attention.  Scott said when he was really upset that when he yelled it sounded like "daio" but I never heard him get upset.  He was too easy going.  In a lot of ways, he's like the cat version of Scott.  Loyal to a fault, loving and tender, and totally has your back if you need it.
 
Farewell to our Jasper -- if there's a Heaven, I hope we all can hang out again.

Domesticate THIS!

I have NO idea how housewives stay home all day and don't go crazy. I'm not talking about the ones with kids -- that's working. I'm talking about married women without jobs and without kids at home to look after. What is the appeal of this? This was my last day off and I spent the day trying to catch up on tasks and only managing to complete each of them half-assed.

Yes, this is my foray into domestic bliss and all I can say is that I am looking forward (can you imagine?) to going back to work tomorrow. I love my husband (hee hee) dearly, but am not all that crazy about his laundry. At least when I'm working I have a valid excuse for not getting it done!

I guess y'all are wondering what some of Heather's post-wedding thoughts are or how the wedding turned out if you weren't able to go. (Maybe you went and just wanted to know what *I* thought.) There's too much of that to post. I'll try to post some pictures when I can, but my life (and this blog) has been mired in all of that wedding stuff for SOOOO long that it's nice not thinking about it, talking about it or remembering that it even exists for a little while. It's also nice running into people and hearing them say such nice things about our wedding. Everything turned out very very well -- I couldn't be more pleased and am so happy that my life with my new husband got started in such a beautiful yet fun way. Hoorah!

Stay tuned for tales of newly married adjustments, back to the regular grind and back to school woes -- all in this blog!

H.

DRAMAPALOOZA 2004

With only 3 days to go to the wedding of the century, the drama never seems to slow down. Our rehearsal dinner was cancelled by my future mother in law and about a quarter of our guests have cancelled due to crazy web of lies that has been spread about why.

In order for me to fully explain all of the drama that has been our wedding, I would a LOT more time, a lot more available brain cells and a lot more space on the internet than just this blog will support.

All I can say is that I never could have gotten through all of this without the love and support of my fiance, my family and my friends.

Some of my girlfriends kidnapped me this past weekend and took me to the most amazing weekend in my life down in Savannah GA. Gorgeous little town, and we had a friggin' blast. Period. I hope to hold the memory of that weekend strongly in mind while I am dealing with the drama that is still marching onwards. It is one of the things that keeps me sane. That and Xanax -- lots and lots of Xanax! :-)

Wish I could write more -- wish I had the energy to share all of the quirky tales from this crazy week. For those of you who have been through it with us, I think we can all agree that no matter what Scott and I will never forget our wedding week! For those of you who have been involved in a lesser degree or not at all, your well wishes and offers of support have been appreciated.

MOVE FORWARD!

I believe that when two people decide to get married that the people in their lives should have to sign some sort of no-drama waiver. Agreeing that there will be NO drama until the wedding is over and if they create drama, then they should have to pay some sort of fine. Not necessarily to the couple, because perhaps the couple is drama oriented themselves... Perhaps the fund should go to some sort of state sponsored wedding fund -- something to help the less fortunate have a nicer wedding than they might have been able to have on their own. Or to the Democratic National Party. Or to the United Way. Something.

Yes, you want to know why I think this. But, you know. And you know I can't say -- here on the internet. That's right, even I still think some things are too private.

Too sad, because all I really wanted to write about tonight was the dialogue I've been having of late with my work buddy The List Master. She could have sparked a really interesting blog topic. She is the only person that I know who would write a list about the lists she needs to make. I mean, that's serious stuff -- she could give my mother a run for her list making money and that is saying A LOT. But, I adore the girl. (And I don't even say this b/c I gave her my blog address and told her to pop in -- she won't be able to tear herself away from cleaning toilets and making lists long enough to bother with me!)

Can't write about her now though, too much drama. Too sad.

All I know is that we must really love each other to pieces if we still want to be married after all this. Seriously. I'm so stressed, I have begun to lose my appetite and when does that EVER happen?

If that keeps up, I'm in serious danger of losing weight. I mean, will the madness ever end?? Next thing I'll be wanting to exercise.

I gotta go lay down until THAT feeling passes. ;-)

xoxo,
H

Quote of the Day

If we were to wake up some morning and find that everyone was the same
race, creed and color, we would find some other cause for prejudice by
noon. -George D. Aiken, US senator (1892-1984)


Raise your hand if you're foolish enough to believe THIS isn't true!

Winding down into the last days of the Madness of Bridezilla. Will report when I can!

-H

Poker... I hardly know her!

Have been thinking about poker a lot lately, especially since we played hold 'em last week. I've always loved poker -- because I really like to play cards and then there's the added thrill of maybe winning a little bit of money to boot. Secretly, I'm kind of competitive.

But, Hold 'em was so much different than "regular" poker and it really played into one of my favorite things in life -- psychoanalyzing people. Hold 'em is the greatest bluff of all time. And you never ever know if the person is bluffing you unless you stay til the end to find out. But, that means bluffing that much yourself. And it's a huge gamble. Because, the person really could have something and then you've blown it. Or they could have nothing and you blew it by NOT staying in. But, if no one stays -- then you'll never know.

It's really fascinating. I could think about it for hours -- I'm THAT shallow. I could really see myself turning celebrity poker into my new must-see tv on Thursday nights. I'm THAT fascinated by watching people for the tell. Because it's all about the tell.

I don't think I have one because I'm too gutless to stay in when I don't really have anything. I've been burned that way before.

Frankly, I could easily flip this into a conversation about relationships -- but when can't I do that? It's my second greatest passion -- dissecting relationships... But, that could lead me down a whole other tangent about how Scott thinks I am unhappy because I enjoy picking apart our relationship so much. He says that I should just LIVE in the moment. But, that's not me -- is it? I'm an "old soul" -- a theme which has been reiterated to me again this week -- and no matter how happy I am, I'm always going to pick it apart and analyze it because that is what drives me. Figuring out the connections between people and what keeps us with them and they with us...

Which leads me back to the game of poker. What keeps people holding on to certain cards and having such certainty in their strength that they will lie to their friends and lovers about it and take their money without remorse?? It's crazy, isn't it? The gamble.

And yet, we gamble this way with our own lives every day, don't we? Every choice we make with absolute certainty always has the opportunity to backfire without our having planned for it at all...

Hard to believe all those guys with their green visors and wife beater (shudder) tank tops are really life's philosophers in disguise, isn't it?

-H

This edition of Bridezilla News brought to you by Dr. Bling

I recently read an article about bridal jewelry. The author was disparaging the bride's choice of accessories, saying that they were obviously cheap rhinestoney things. I am not that sure where I read this article but I really wish I could find the person who wrote it so I could poke a stick in his/her eye.

A really sharp one.

I was ready to give in to the cheap blingy accessories, but every time I almost do I can hear these words in my head. Which is very frustrating, because the non-cheap looking accessory that will perfectly complement my dress does not freaking exist.

I have searched high, I have searched not high and I'm telling you -- it AIN'T like Ragu, it AIN'T in there.

It's the nightmare of the invitations all over again. Looking at the same stuff over and over again that's almost right, but not quite. It's very important that I find something that doesn't make my dress look tacky because otherwise what was the point of spending all that money on the friggin' dress, right?? And the thing is that what I am visualizing in my head is not some crazy thing -- it's somewhat simple, somewhat sparkly and as close to elegant as I will ever get. I even had something almost exactly like it, but the pearls were the wrong color. Sigh.

Tonight, I thought my search was over. I should have known better when I realized I was in a store that had necklaces hanging OUTSIDE the case that were priced at $116. I mean, if that's what's hanging outside for anyone to take what could possibly be the prices of the one I was so enamored of INSIDE the case??

Two hundred and eighty five dollars.

American.

I mean, come on. It's rhinestones and silver, let's get serious here. At Claire's it would have been 2.85.

It was embarrassing to not even have her pull it out when I found out the prices, but there was no way that I was going to let that thing get near my neck and risk loving it. I may be crazy but I am NOT stupid.

So, the search continues... I'll have to go again -- the viruses are taking over my computer again. It's kind of like working with dynamite, you just never know how long you're going to get...

I was talking to my godmother today and finally came up with an accurate analogy of what it is to be Inside Bridezilla's Head... It's kind of like no matter what I'm doing, no matter what's going on, I constantly have ticker running along the bottom of my brain screen of all the things left to do or figure out or whatever about the wedding. ALL the time. Like CNN. Tickety tickety tickety.

This means that I can be sitting and having a completely normal conversation with someone (on those rare occasions when that still occurs) but the whole time the ticker is running... Do I need to go buy those bubbles or did my mother? Where have I not looked for jewelry yet? What should I get the bridesmaids for gifts? What time should we meet for our hair stuff? When are we going to get the marriage license? Wonder if I still have time to find a reading for the ceremony? Signing plate, have to remember to get the signing plate...

Constantly. I really wonder how long it will take for my brain to return to a normal state of affairs after all this is over??

Scott has a friend whose wife STILL talks about her wedding -- and they have been married for like 10 years. The only time I ever met her she was asking if Scott still had some of the pictures from that day, since he was in the wedding. Which I am sure that he would still have if he were a girl or gay. Which, I can vouch, he is NEITHER.

I do have a fear that this could happen to me.

All I know is that when the day is come and gone I just hope that it's just like most other stressful things I have gone through in my life -- it just gets flushed away like it never even happened.

Except for the good stuff. Like the words we are saying to each other and the meaning behind them. Y'all, there will not be a dry eye in the house. I'm thinking of having my face shellacked in order to maintain some level of dignity. Either that or having cups temporarily installed below my eyes in order to prevent myself from drowning. Frankly, standing up with Scott and getting to say all those things in front of all my friends and family is the only reason that I am looking forward to this thing.

Bridezilla goes corny... and to bed! I only get about 7 minutes at a time on this computer anyways before the evil pop-up comes in and locks up my computer and the time is just about

Sugar and Spice

Over the past few weeks, I have had an interesting dialogue with Katrina about the nature of good and evil... No, not in the Universe -- in me. You see, I have been trying to convince her that I am basically a mean girl. I say mean things, I think mean things, and it's because I am mean. I don't say this because I think it's great that I'm mean, but I admit that there are times that I do get a kick out of it.

She thinks I am full of shit.

She may be right. (Mark this day on your calendar, Katrina.)

Well, more right than not at least. I am pretty mean, but there's a lot of niceness in there too. And truthfully, I get a really big kick of doing nice things for people and saying nice things to them. (Scott would likely heartily disagree with this -- but HE'S full of shit on that score.) I even get the warm fuzzies. But, it doesn't have the same sense of fun to it that being mean does.

It's kind of like the difference between eating milk and cookies versus doing tequila shots. There's a certain satisfaction derived from both of them, but there's something about doing a shot of tequila that makes you feel a little dirty and raunchy for doing it. Fun, but dirrrrty.

I have a few friends whom I frequently try to empower to better themselves and their lives. To make them realize that THEY have the power within them to be happy and to get what they want. A ruby red slipper bit of a kick in the ass. This is the happy medium of being nice and being mean -- you're telling people that they are good people and showing them all of the potential that they have while simultaneously giving them a kick in the ass to force them to boost themselves up to this potential. Scott says it's all part of my plan to take over the world. "The same thing we try to do every day -- take over the world..."

But, is that so bad?? That my "evil plan" is to try to make people realize their potential?

Guess I'm guilty then.

Bridezille signing off... Soon to be Wifezilla in just 23 more days now. ;-)

It was a dark and stormy night... Well, it was raining -- I don't know if I would say storming... But I've always wanted to use that corny line to start a story. Anyways, I was sitting on the front porch smoking and I was really enjoying listening to the sounds of the traffic and the rain around me. It reminded me of the ocean, the combination of the two. Just down below me were the headlights of the car, dancing in the raindrops. (For Scott et al -- and just in the distance, I could hear pollen fires crackling.) I suddenly had a longing for the home of my youth, the quiet ease of surbubia.

The homes in the circle, calling out their stories softly to one another. Almost like the hum of electricity. Then it hit me. That sound, that softness was all happening in the front of the houses... While we spent our nights behind the houses in the decks and rolling backyards. Which was tender and beautiful, but sheltered from the true heartbeat of the street... Where the real beauty lay.

I realize that I want to be in the front porch of that world. In an old time age, without the loss of innocence. But with a screened in porch -- just so I still have some shelter from all that beauty.

And from the skeeters! ;-)

The thing is... I have the picture a lot. Sitting on the screened front porch in the rosy twilight absorbing all the life in the world and feeling comfortably twingly... And Scott's always in it. And that's what it's really all about...

hp

Engaged! 

This picture was taken the night that Scott and I got engaged and happens to sit right next to my computer in a pile of my 10,000 things to do. THAT girl is HAPPY. She had the world at her feet, she finally got the big fish in the leaky boat, and life was good.

I have to look at the girl all the time now to remember why I'm going through all of this madness and turmoil and fighting fighting fighting. There are people in the world that when you ask them how their wedding planning is going, they will smile and just act like all is great with the world.

I want to know where they are getting their drugs? It's either drugs or money. That's the only way to survive this -- have enough money to throw on whatever curveball comes at you or have enough drugs to just not give a fuck.

But, that girl and I... We've been talking a lot lately. I ask her her secrets, ask her to remind me of that night (oh WHAT a night!), and to give me strength. I know that I will be that happy again and that silly but boy oh boy it has been a long time since I was quite as happy with him as I was that night.

Nor he with me. That's the thing. I know that I'm crazy and that I'm illogical and just MAD as a hatter, but the point is -- what can I do? It's not like there is a switch where I can just turn it on and off. Buy some earplugs buddy and call your one married friend. He'll tell you that it's like this. Maybe the one married friend can tell me how long it's going to take us to remember that we really do love each and we really had good intentions from the start.

And God bless Scott (and I do mean this) he has almost never used that dread phrase "I told you so" once I started getting this nutty. I don't know how he does it, because I DEFINITELY deserve to hear it -- but he does.

See, it's little things like that and having that girl and her cheesy horsey grin staring up at me that keep me going. I am NOT kidding.

love you mean it
H.

Bridezilla Reporting In

It's going to get much much worse before it gets better. I know this to be true. I accept it. And yet, I'm still not ready for the things when they come up and throw me for a loop.

Today, he says (emails) that he doesn't really see why we need to get a hotel room the night that we get married because we're not going to be there for but a few hours, it's going to be really hard on us time-wise AND added money and pretty much impractical. I respond that I take these points into advisement but that his remarks have hit me pretty hard and I'm being pretty emotional about most things at this point and will need to just talk about it after a little while. He responds back that the BOTTOM LINE is that it's a waste of money that we've already been hemorrhaging and it's not going to happen. That was not the way to go with me. I contend that I have been the one who has been involved in this emotionally, I refuse to be "bottom lined" when I have already said that I KNEW I was being emotional and... Whatever. It was ridiculous.

He then chooses to send me the vows that he has drafted for our wedding about 5 minutes after this. How is THIS fair?? So, I start feeling misty and really wanting to find a way to work it out. I say that we were going to have to buy a bigger bed anyways, how about buying it that week and then have our wedding night be the first night we sleep in it? I acknowledged that this might not be THE easiest thing to accomplish in the world but I was going to try to work it out. Again -- shot down. Basically implied that I was being completely illogical and irrational and that that was never ever going to work out.

You know what? Am I SO wrong for wanting our wedding night to be just slightly different than every other night of our lives before and after? Is that just some crazy pipe dream? I'm not saying that I don't acknowledge the impracticalities and expense of having things any different, but seriously. I cannot understand this complete lack of any sort of emotional anything to go with it. "What're we gonna do, build a shed in your backyard to put the old bed in?"

I don't know dummy -- what were we gonna do with it otherwise?? AUGH.

This is just one example of the stupid crap that people fight about while they are planning a wedding. The absolute worst part about this whole thing is that if I had imagined what my wedding day would be like "ever since I was a little girl" it would never have been like this. It would have been lots lots different. But, I didn't do this and didn't do that because I didn't want to spend any more money and listen to the bitching about it. And now. Here we are. It's just ridiculous. I admit that I do somehow still want to marry him (and yet, feel the strong urge to want to kill him at the same time) but I do not want to have a wedding anymore. Most of the time by the time I finally dredge up the energy to get excited about the event, inevitably SOMETHING will come up that I hadn't foreseen and burst my balloon all over again. Him or his mom or my mom or whatever. It's just ridiculous.

But, the thing that they never tell you is that planning to have a wedding so that you can marry the man you love will make him the man you love to hate. It's true. It is my full belief that women who marry men that don't make them want to kill them at some point during the planning process are probably marrying someone gay and should just get out. It is only the certain knowledge that I am supposed to be feeling this way that keeps me going forward.

Move forward or die.

Because men -- especially this one -- just do not get it. You pour your love and soul and heart and dreams and money money money into this thing and every tiny little responsibility you throw their way, you would think is just a Herculean task. And the constant bitching about how much there is to do? Are you friggin' kidding me?? Do you have any idea how much work went into just getting us to this point?? And you have the a godamned nerve to complain to me about how much work there is?? Seriously? All you have to do is just show up, look good, try not to get cake on my dress when you're rolling it in my face, and that's it. Because all the balls that have been dropped along the way have been picked up. I mean, I am over it. Over. it. Especially when I know that for all of the complaining that he has been doing, he will just be tickled to death to have his favorite cousins and his sisters and his dad and his out of town friends ALL here at the same time, in the same place JUST to see him and tell him how great they think he is and so forth.

And then he says that I just throw that in his face. Well. That's probably true, but you know what? I agonized over invitations for hours, handwrote them (and bullied people into helping me) for hours -- bullied his mom into accepting our choices -- not thrown a bitchy princess fit about the disco ball tux -- found ways to cut corners time and time again... And no. He didn't ask for it and he didn't want it, but I know that if I were a better kind of person -- a kind of person who DIDN'T throw the fact that he's practically had to do nothing to make this happen -- he would really be glad that it's going down. I know because he is a person who truly appreciates the community that he has had throughout his life of his friends and family and how much they have all done for him through the years. That's one of the reasons that I love him and am marrying him.

But, boy -- am I bitter right now. Women in the audience who have known me since God and have reminded me that I have said that I would NEVER get married again, I say that I may believe in getting married but I do not believe in having a wedding. Everyone tells you this from varying degrees of frustration, but I'm telling you this from the bottom of my heart. If I had to do it all over again, it wouldn't have been this. I'm not sure what it would have been, but it would have been easy. Simple. Drama free.

But, now it's too late. All I have to do is survive and make sure that we still want to be together after it is all over.

H.

And now for more of the exact same stuff

I think I should just post some more pictures, that's better than whining about wedding stuff any day.

However, I have recently come to the conclusion that the reason that I may be so obsessed with the whole wedding planning thing (and perhaps, why many brides are) is that it delays my fears about marriage. Which are plentiful. Not being married to Scott, per se, just being married in general...

[Sidenote: In order to "study", I've been reading a lot of chick lit recently that focuses on chicks getting married. Frankly, it's been a little upsetting. I have belatedly realized that I could have gotten a pretty nifty little book out this thing and that just never even occurred to me. I've been too busy putting things off til the last minute to write a book. That would have been one more thing I HAD to take care of, so it's just as well I never started.]

But, marriage is a big thing. Many think that it's not as big of a deal to me because I have been there, done that. I have tried to present this image. Frankly, that is just a front. (Yes, here on the internet in front of the WHOLE world -- all two of you reading -- I am admitting to "fronting".) Sure, been there, done that with the wrong person, wrong time, wrong STATE, etc etc. I'd like to take a Mulligan on that one, can I do that?? This is the real thing. I am a grown up person (they tell me) and this is a grown up decision. I could potentially have children of my own to boss around and screw up one day. That's the Big Show, man.

I don't want to screw it up. I'm prone to screwing things up. What if it doesn't work out? What if I age weird and he goes out for smokes and doesn't come back? What if he does? What if we get on each other's nerves? <--- This is what I'm really afraid of. He doesn't have nerves as good as mine and I'm good at getting on peoples nerves. What if my nerves aren't as good as I think they are? What if he never ever takes the trash out ever? Do I have to start cooking? Is there going to be a place for dusting in my life?

What if I become domesticated?

I have very negative feelings about this. I HAVE been there, done that and I didn't like it. I was unattractive and had bad curly hair and went to craft shows a lot. It's not a good look for me kids and I'm not making this stuff up. I associate domestication with the death of the fun side of my personality. And I'm fun, damn it. I know that I have fun when I'm with me. Well, I have fun when I'm with me and I have an audience. But what if he doesn't want to be an audience all the time?

See. This is how the crazy gets on me and it's like lint on a black shirt under a black light -- bad bad stuff! So, in order not to think about that stuff, I just start concentrating on things like flowers and jewelry and gifts for attendants and hotel reservations. Details are what calm me...

Some of my friends who are not as close to me don't always return my calls right away or ever. I think it's because I say it's Bridezilla calling. I'm just trying to keep it real. The only thing worse than being Bridezilla is being one and not even knowing it.

Anyways, I have to go scour ebay for tiaras now -- the details are calling me. And yes, I said tiaras. When the fuck else am I going to have a legitimate reason to wear a tiara and not have people think it's weird??

-H

Quote of the Day

Television's perfect. You turn a few knobs, a few of those mechanical
adjustments at which the higher apes are so proficient, and lean back
and drain your mind of all thought. And there you are watching the bubbles
in the primeval ooze. You don't have to concentrate. You don't have to
react. You don't have to remember. You don't miss your brain because you don't
need it. Your heart and liver and lungs continue to function normally.
Apart from that, all is peace and quiet. You are in the man's nirvana.
And if some poor nasty minded person comes along and says you look like a
fly on a can of garbage, pay him no mind. He probably hasn't got the price
of a television set. -Raymond Thornton Chandler, writer (1888-1959)


Every time I watch too much tv (ie -- most of my life), I have this exact feeling. "Watching the bubbles in the primeval ooze." Sad, isn't it?

What IS that ticking noise?

Let me reiterate this fact for those of you not in in the know -- I really don't have a big desire to have children. This is not terribly surprising, because it comes up frequently. Like when I'm out shopping and there is a kid in the store that lets loose one of those ear-wrenching, spine-gripping, blood-curdling screams that causes ALL of the hair on your entire body to stand on end -- even at places you didn't know you HAD hair. Yeah. Like that. I call those screams "birth control." Every time I hear that I just know that I'm never going to have kids.

Or when someone shares a particularly gruesome aspect of pregnancy or giving birth, that makes me realize they're not the only ones about to be suffering from morning sickness.

Or when I think about the awesome amount of responsibility and then look at myself and realize that I'm not even capable of washing the dishes that are in the sink on a daily basis.

I'm not ready, I have no strong desires, the list goes on.

However. I have a couple of friends who have little kids, two with little girls, and they will occasionally forward pictures to me of the girls doing something incredibly adorable and looking at their moms and dads with those big round adoring eyes and that's when I think -- uh oh. THOSE images are so strong that all of my attempts to quelch them are often rebuked. I'll try to think about all of the other stuff and it's just not happening.

So, I'll have to do something DIRTY. I won't go into the gory details, but that will erase the images from my mind completely. No more baby dolls for YOU, Heather because you have been a bad bad girl!

I guess that's the funny side of it -- in order for me to get down and dirty, don't show me porn just make me have images of motherhood dance in my head and I'll get seriously dirty to get rid of them.

Even though I just recently turned 31, I didn't really realize I was starting to get old and settled until tonight.

Plan was for me to hang out with HP2, and while we were hanging out Scott called and asked us to meet him out. I was interested, because let's face it I love to hang out with the man, but she wasn't really feeling going "out out." But, then when I got in the car to drive her home, she had a change of heart. So, we drove out to little place where he and his friends were doing karaoke and picked him up and then drove to another place...

The thing is that I'm just not that interested in the bar scene anymore. I have more fun laughing and joking in the car on the way to the bar than I ever seem to at the bar itself. There's just a whole lot of people having a whole lot to drink and trying to get laid. Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that -- been there, done that, have the t-shirt to prove it. But, I don't miss it. There's never a time when I am sitting around on a Friday or Saturday nigth with Scott wishing I could be hanging out with a bar, doing the meet market flirtation dance. Ick. I enjoy going out once in a while, but the thought of that being a regular part of my routine again doesn't interest me at all.

Not sure why either, because I like to drink. And when I've got my mind to it, I'm pretty good at it, too. Maybe it's because I don't have big drinking social circle anymore or maybe because I'd just rather have quiet time at home with my baby or maybe it's both. I mean, I don't get my hackles up and fight against it if someone suggest going out -- I'm more than willing to roll. But, it's nothing like the times in my life when I felt like a social pariah if I didn't have plans for BOTH nights of the weekend and something to fill in Sunday too.

And now it's 2am and I'm still awake and that's just ridiculous!

Scout won't let me post any of her wedding pictures. I was going to add badly stick-drawn figures to replace the picture I posted, but I couldn't figure out how to do that.

Sigh. Think I'll go pout and whine about never getting my way...

Well, at least the man has a tux. That's ONE less thing to whine about! :-)

This is me and my darling hairdresser/friend/role model Lori. It is a testament to how much I adore her that I will post a picture of me looking THIS bad because she looks so good. 

Here's the thing... I don't think Ken and Colleen's wedding could have been more gorgeous or more perfect. It was just fabulous and sparkly and beautiful. I wrote an entire blog (in my little black book) about the whole wedding "drama" based on THEIR wedding. It was good stuff. Anyways, I was pretty jealous for a while afterwards because our wedding is not going to be this pretty. But, it will be fun (how can you go wrong with 2 margarita machines??) and at the end of the day, pretty or kookie or whatever -- we will still be married. And I still get to wear a big white dress. This is all that matters. :-) 

Such as Scott and Heather, practicing their enraptured gift-opening procedure. I liked the hats, but mainly because I was having SUPER weird hair night... 

It wasn't for DAYS after the party that Tony Kahlua even knew that other people were at this party. 

More from the Diary of Bridezilla

Copyright pending?

So, here's the deal. I have to make about 1000 decisions concerning the wedding and the minute details. I have varying degrees of input from all of my "sources." Some helpful (ie -- agree with me)and some not (ie -- don't agree with me). It's enough to make you lose your mind over the craziest stuff. Every time I think I tackle an issue, something else pops up to replace it... Isn't there some mythological creature who has several heads and one grows back to replace it when you cut it off?

And no, I'm not thinking about starfish.

It's very very frustrating. Particularly when it's over the simplest thing and I'm agonizing over it for days. You can't even begin to relate to the HOURS I spent pouring over invitations, agonizing over which ones I wanted -- only to feel all of the wind depleted from my sails when my parents pronounced them "weird." My mother wouldn't even help me fold them. I mean, that's messed up, right?

And now, it's table decorations. Frankly, I'm tired of thinking about them. I have MUCH more important things that need to be addressed, like I don't know -- the wedding ceremony hasn't been planned. But no, I've got to spend more hours agonizing over pillar candles versus floating candles versus tealights on sticks. I mean, is this really that serious? Did Princess Grace have to think about this stuff?

No, of course not -- she had "people" and she wasn't on a budget. Friggin' budget is the problem here. Every time I spend money I have to mentally run the numbers again. If you really want to help, throw some money on it and help it to go away.

And the worst part is that I really do want to let people help, but I don't want to give up control. If I gave up control, I'd be wearing a $800 wedding dress with a train and a sequined veil and be getting married at the officer's club -- and I'm not even marrying an officer.

It's just crazy. I have a whole stand-up routine worked out that I'm planning on performing in my wedding dress, so I can try to recoup some of the money.

Meanwhile, the Groom is coasting on his high horse because he went to get his tuxedo today so I can "get off of his back." That sure is a nice thing to say to someone who has about 1000 more things to take care of then just getting a tux, for the love of God. But, that always devolves back to "but I didn't want this thing, you did."

Which is true. How do you argue with that??

No, seriously -- how DO you argue with that, because I sure could use a comeback! :)

Off to drink -- the only thing that can save me from the craziness.

H.

The thing is that I really hate to shower. Especially on the weekends. It's not even that I'm a "dirty girl" in any sense of the world. (Well, maybe in one sense but that was in a former life..) It's because I'm a girly girl that I hate it. All of the rites and rituals and so forth that go along with taking a shower, I really hate it. I know that once I step in the shower, it's going to be a minimum of 30 minutes before I'm going to be available to the public again. Probably closer to 45.

Because once I get in the shower, I've got to wash and buff everything and usually shave a bunch of it too. It's ridiculous. Then when I'm out of the shower, I've got to moisturize and volumize and dry off. Got to do the drying part because otherwise my hair dries FUN-KEEE. Then, I've got to put a coat of war paint on so I can stand to look at myself in the mirror (otherwise I just feel like my pores are staring back and mocking me) and THEN I'm ready. That's just almost an hour of my life that I can't get back. Added up over a year, at 365 days in a year, that works out to be a little over 15 days!! That's two weeks of my life in my shower/post-shower ritual.

Sad. I'd love to write more about it, but I've got to go you know...

If I could save Blond in a bottle...

Many people have often said to me that they will always think of me as a blonde. This is usually said in a complimentary way, which seems odd to me. Not that I mind the ditziness often associated with blondeness, as frankly it really applies, but I just feel so boxed in. What about being a brunette? I bet I could be cute in that too.

I went through a period of some Goth red stuff and I got a lot of interesting reactions out of that. Usually -- wow, now there's a color you don't often find outside of Crayola. I have a friend who calls me Red to this day, which many people who have met me in my post auburn days really don't get.

But, still. If people think of me as a blonde, then I'm all about pleasing the people. But the problem is that it gets pretty expensive to keep funding the blonde and really keeping it blonde. I'm considering starting a campaign to collect money to Keep Heather Blonde or Save the Roots or something. (I'm not terribly creative when it comes to titles, note the title of the blog for pity's sake.) Would people contribute?

You say you've always thought of me as a blonde and in fact, prefer it that way?? Hmmm... Well, I accept cash, checks and money orders and am currently working out a deal with Visa. ("If you want to Keep Heather Blonde, the only card accepted is Visa.") But, perhaps Mastercard would be a good option thought. ("Visit to hair salon for highlights and a haircut: $100. Keeping Heather Blonde? Priceless.)

Just some thoughts out of my dizzy blonde head...

H.

Three guesses who was drunk and trying to look sober in this one... 

This is me and HP2 at my birthday. I think your head is perfectly normal sized, silly girl 

Houston, we have picture capability.

? 

Oh my Jesus God, Blogger just SO fucking cool. There's photo blogging now for F*ING FREE! IT IS SO ON!

Little Black Book

Many of you know about my little black book, and I may have even referenced it here. Who knows? I write so infrequently now that I don't even remember what's in here. It's a funny thing about my writing. In my life, it has always come in jumps and starts. I will go for periods of time where I just write all the time, get the fever to hear the pen scratching across the paper or have my fingers racing across the keyboard. And ideas and thoughts [sidebar: it feels like there is a difference between ideas and thoughts -- is there??] will just pour out of me. Can't seem to stop writing and it feels like interesting stuff. Frankly, as long as it's interesting to me, I have no further cares.

What was I talking about? Oh yes. My little black book. Since I'm not a guy in the 70's with lots of chest and gold chains, what I'm referring to is a miniature composition notebook that I carry around in my purse that I use whenever I need to jot down any kind of thought or idea. That's were I collected notes from the cruise, ostensibly so I could then transfer the information to this blog to pass on.

Only it just doesn't work like that for me. I'm not very good at multi-tasking and if I'm writing somewhere, then I'm not writing anywhere else. Which means my personal journal (which I have kept off and on since I was 8) hasn't had much added to it in quite some time. QUITE some time. And apparently, these little things that I'm adding to my little black book (lbb) are now keeping me from blogging.

Which is sad, because those entries are quite often just a stoned attempt to seem deep. Sometimes it is a little deep (for me, anyways) but mostly it's things I have to do, things I don't want to forget, phone numbers, etc.

The last lbb entry was this: meteors used to crash into the Earth ALL the time. They wiped out an entire species -- so why doesn't that happen anymore? Is there a scientific explanation or are just lucky?

I mean, what I know about science, meteors, and the extinction of dinosaurs you could fit on the head of pin and have room to put all the information I know about fixing cars AND computers. Scott had to explain to me that things do still crash into the Earth, just not as large and the universe was in more chaos than it is now and I really don't need to worry about meteors crashing into Earth. I'm still not sure if he really thinks I was worried about this or if he was just giving me a hard time. I believe my exact phrase was "aren't we DUE?" He went into this big explanation about time and how it relates in space and I didn't really hear much after that other than blah blah blah.

Anyways, that's one of the more noteworthy ones. An older one that really delved into the bizarre was this one.... "Time schism... Maybe when Scott and I broke up (in 2000), we really did break up and yet he still loved me so he re-created himself just to fuck with me...." I explain this to him and further expound that my other theory is "maybe he's just an actor hired to fuck with me". He asked "who would love you so much that they would pay someone to fuck with you?" I told him that was the funny thing -- I think it's him."

They don't call it Inside Heather's Head for nothing, folks. There is some crazy stuff in here!

These are actual thoughts from Heather's head, created by a professional lunatic. Do not attempt to re-create these same thoughts in your own head as the author is not responsible for what may happen to your head.

sleepy...

Wow, they changed the way things look behind the scenes again. I really have got to check this stuff out more option. Hmmm... Perhaps if I were writing more?

FYI

I am a golden god. Got an A in my Philosophy class.

Yay me!!

No further news -- it's Cinco de Mayo and I hit some margaritas! Yay!

Out from the funk


I just bet you greedy little vicarious bottom feeders really want to hear all about my vacation. And I would love to tell you about it. But it is late and I don't have the energy.

So, I may tell you about it or I may not. Suffice it to say -- I had a VERY relaxing time all in all (what DOES that mean?) and really hate the thought of going back to my daily life again. But, you gotta work so you can pay for the times you're not working and enjoy them more.

Or something.

So. Just gonna write about this little epiphany I had while indulging in one of my favorite bad habits (no, not that one -- not that one either) -- watching reality tv shows in MTV. In this case, The Real World. Couldn't tell you which one because the only one I ever really followed was Las Vegas. But I digress.

So, there's this girl with multiple piercings and tattooes and she's dating a guy that is MAD CRAZY about who looks like a male version of her, only in even more need of a sandwich. One of the other girls on the show does her little confession booth thing about how the only reason that the chick is even with this guy is because he makes her feel like she is the center of his universe, etc. I'm just wondering -- how is it a bad thing if someone you love makes you feel important??

And if anyone is left to comment please don't come blazing in here talking about how it CAN be a bad thing if the person puts too much emphasis on you and blah blah blah -- let's leave the melodrama to Scott's mom where it belongs!

Then I realized. No matter who you are with, no matter who you are there is always going to be someone, somewhere ("with a big nose, who knows") who will not like the person you are with. No matter who that person is and how happy you are with them. And if/when your relationship doesn't work out, those are the people that you will turn to because they are the ones who will make you feel justified that the relationship didn't work out. And if/when your relationship DOES work, well it is typically those people who get cut out. Look around you, can you think of a couple that you know that either you don't think should be together or that someone you know thinks shouldn't be together? Maybe you even thought it at one point but changed your mind or learned to accept the inevitable or whatever. But regardless, we all have them. I know I have plenty and I know that there are plenty of people who don't understand why I am with Scott. I told him this, gently, as I was explaining this theory and his response is "fuck 'em."

Truth is, you've got to agree with him. Once you choose to walk down that relationship path with someone, you've got to decide for yourself what and who is right for you. YOU are the only one who knows why you are there and why he is there and so on. There's always going to be someone who doesn't "approve", who doesn't get it. Who doesn't feel as enthusiastically as you do. It's just that simple. But, what're you gonna do? Poll the audience first before deciding who to date? Most likely, the audience is not going to pick someone who does it for you.

The other thing is that the level of disapproval does seem to be in line with how far away from a cookie cutter the party in question is. But, it doesn't really matter. The guy could be Superman, the woman could be Wonder Woman -- there is someone in your circle of friends right now who doesn't think it's right. "Why do they always have to be fighting crime? What about the criminals -- they need to work too. And they're always messing up our reservations because they have to fly off to save the world. What -- the world is more important than happy hour?"

Seriously. I know this because I've been on both sides of it. Not that I've ever dated Superman (just someone that thinks he is) , but you know what I mean. I think that's when you know you've taken the leap of faith -- you throw the audience's opinion out the window and decide to just trust your own. Truth is, I've done it before and had it go horribly awry, so I am not advocating that taking the leap means it's the right leap. But, you gotta keep trusting because otherwise -- what is the point?

kisses to all -- will try to share some Bermuda stories next time... We're pretty much writing without Scott in the background these days too. Turns out the 2/16/04 blog This is Dedicated to the one I love is the one where I "jumped the shark." He was never going to enjoy it as much after that, so he has stopped reading.

Let's talk shit about him! ;-)

-HP

The Truth Behind Why this Shit isn't Funny anymore

While in real life I am still mildly amusing, the truth is that the person behind the Heather curtain has been in a bit of an existentialist funk lately. That's right -- you KNOW things are fucked up bad when Heather uses the word existentialist in a sentence.

Here's why. I cannot for the life of me seem to figure out what is the point. Can you? And if so, can you tell me? Because whenever I really really sit and think about it, no matter how hard I try or what angle I approach it from -- I just don't get it. I wake up every day and I go to my job and I spin in that little circle and then I go take my classes and spin in those little circles and in between I have relationships with Scott and my friends and my parents and so forth. What is the point??

I met Scott and my friends and I love all of them and think they are wonderful and they think I'm wonderful and we laugh and we cry and we talk and we don't talk and we argue and we don't. But I could have lived two blocks over and I may not have met ANY of these people, it may have been an ENTIRELY different set of people and I would have a similarly happy or unhappy life as the case may be. And let's just say that there IS some driving reason behind WHY I met this particular set of people and why they met me -- so what? In the end, does it really matter? In the end, we're just going to die anyways and then whatever happens to us -- happens.

And does anything happen? Or is it just that we are so friggin' arrogant that we can't fathom the concept that we are no more eternal than the dust we supposedly came from?

I'm frankly not sure if this is PMS or fears about the future or what, but I just can't shake these thoughts. And it's not even like I'm depressed about it, though I daresay someone would argue with that. I don't feel depressed -- and I've been depressed before, I have some idea what it's like. I'm just in a funk.

Maybe it's all this philosophy crap. Perhaps learning about the nature of knowledge is not exactly uplifting. Frankly, I miss being flaky and not thinking about stuff. I remember when I used to be around people when they were talking about these grand epistemological views and someone would inevitably excitedly blurt "OH, I think about that ALL the time." and I would think that not only had I NEVER thought about whatever it was, it never would have even occurred to me to think about it.

How do you know that you don't know indeed.

I'm off to self-medicate with more chocolate covered pretzels.

How did Thursday get here?


I can only vaguely recall a time when I could blog daily. Or even think about blogging daily. Wow.

Do you ever get the sneaking suspicion that you are really just a hamster running around in God's wheel? I do.

That for me is about as close as I get to religion.

Seriously though, sometimes I just run and run and run and nothing ever seems to get accomplished.

Throw some cheese in here, man.

You ever beat yourself up for procrastinating and get so used to beating yourself up that you start to enjoy the sick feeling you get from hating yourself for something that is SO preventable??

Yeah, me neither.

But, if I did... Just supposing. This would definitely be high time. I think I need to have parents on full-time duty again. For example, when the wedding invitations came, they gave me a ration of shit that I would NEVER get them sent out on time because I always procrastinate on everything and there's just no way I could handle all that in the correct time frame.

Yeah? Fuck you fucker. They'll be done with time to spare just to prove to them that they can be!

That's what I need. Someone telling me matter-of-factly that I can't do something. It wasn't so much that they were rude or anything, they were just so certain that I couldn't do it that it has been my driiving goal to prove them wrong. I sure wish that they would matter-of-factly tell me that there is no way I can ever get even a C in this Communication class so I could make sure I worked hard enough to prove them wrong.

Why can't I just do things? Why do I need these BIZARRE head games to get them done?? Who can I blame for THAT?

Man, I think Scott is right -- I DO make things too hard. Sometimes.

Easter

I'm not what anyone would call a Christian and so Easter is an odd time of year for me. It's very specific to the Christians, unlike Christmas which has been bastardized into being everyone's holiday. People wish me a happy Easter and I accept and wish it back, like it means anything to me at all.

Sometimes I think I agree with George on Seinfeld -- we need Festivus. A holiday for the rest of us.

I think the closest thing non-religious people get is their own birthdays and frankly, that just seems so self-serving even to me.

In other news, I went on a shopping binge yesterday while my fiance was on a drinking binge. I got the expected drunk call and wound up going to pick him up from his location after midnight.

It always fills me with mixed emotions when he has one of these drinking with the boys days. For one thing, it's VERY rare that it happens anymore and he looks upon it with an excitement I can only compare to little kids at Christmas time. As the week leads up to the event, the palpitations about the amount of alcohol that he will consume fills the room. One of the emotions that I go through is jealousy. I wish I had someone to go and spend the day just drinking and acting stupid with. I wish I had the stamina to drink and be stupid all day. I had a few days like that in my past and I've always looked at them fondly. But, now the thought of it just has visions of toilet bowls dancing in my head.

Also, I'm a drunk that needs a lot of validation and support. I will get too drunk or too sloppy or too needy or whathaveyou and need babysitting that will range from quite a lot to mild supervision. This is not Scott's strong suit. Not to say he's not willing to help me out when I'm at that level, but he definitely doesn't enjoy it. I wouldn't say that I enjoy the caretaking side of it either, but it's different. When he's drunk, his defenses are way down and he will usually allow me to take care of him in ways that he normally throws up walls about. I like that part of it a lot. I guess it's nice to be openly needed once in a while.

Which is interesting, because one of the reasons that he really doesn't enjoy the "caretaking" side of being the sober one in that situation is because he's had bad experiences with past drunk girlfriends. Tell ME about that -- I was married to someone who was drunk a fair amount of time and hence, another of the mixed emotions in the works. I try not to hold that against Scott, but I know that it comes out in passive-aggressive ways when I least expect it. It's not his fault that just the mere idea of being around a man that is that drunk harkens back truly dark times in my life and I try to not tie in the two. After all, for Scott a day drinking with the boys is an occasion to be lauded because of its rareness, but that guy I was married to -- it was just another Tuesday night. (Or Wednesday or Sunday.)

Skew tangent... Actually it has taken me a fair amount of time to come to terms that not all men who drink will treat me badly. One of the first men I dated after my separation couldn't come to terms with how uncomfortable I was just being around Jaegermeister -- but once you associate something with having a belt wrapped around your throat and someone choking you, well... That's just a little difficult to shake. Which is what I told him, to which I was informed that if I was dumb enough to marry the guy AFTER that happened, then shame on me and I should just get over my hang-ups.

Indeed.

Needless to say, not only would Scott never say or do anything like that to me -- he's probably at his absolute nicest to me when he has been drinking too much. All the barriers are down, all the defenses. Just soft and yet strong.

Just human. And that's what I love. Men try so hard to be Superman for us and run around and leap buildings and save us from the unknown. We don't want that. We've been doing that on our forever. We really just want Clark Kent -- someone human, someone there for us, someone who needs to be appreciated and appreciates us in return.

Anyways. Some things to think about.

HP

I miss blogging. I do. I wish I had the guilt free conscience to just sit and type nonsensical crap for hours ad nauseum as I used to. I actually used to get a little chirrup of a thrill at the thought of something to blog about. I would jot notes on napkins of topics I had come up with and couldn't wait to come and post them. And wait for what my readers had to say.

And wait.

And wait some more.

The thrill is gone. And it's not even so much because I don't get the responses. For a long time it really ceased to be about that at all and became about me and just writing about whatever (almost) I wanted to.

But, now -- when the fuck do I have time for that?

Not because I'm actually doing all of the productive things I am supposed to be doing, but at the very least I think about them damned hard. A lot.

Whatever. Some things I think about though are vain things like how much I wish I could be friends with me. Not necessarily because I think that I am all that but because a lot of people seem to think I am all that and I would like to know what that is about. Am I all that? Am I really as funny as the people at work think I am?? Or have they really not met anyone like me at all?

Scott has this thing about butterflies. Like some people are just so unusual and unique and create such an impression on you that it's akin to a butterfly coming and landing on your nose. Not something that happens every day. And that's why there are people in our lives who think that they are so much closer to us than they really are. Very very few people know me as I really am, beneath the Heather P* show. They think that is me and I LIKE it like that. If you think I am 24/7 sarcastic and balls to the wall out there and crass and straight up no bullshit blunt, then you may be less inclined to waste my time with your melodrama. And that's pretty much the crux of my existence -- avoiding my own and others' melodrama like the plague that it is.

I'm not talking about real life issues in people's lives. I'm talking melodrama. If you don't know the difference, my guess is that you are probably suffering from it.

But, I digress. A LOT. Because there are people that I meet in my daily life who seem constantly amazed at the things that I say. Often, they will repeat them back to me at later times and I don't even remember saying what I said. Which is really sad because then I am laughing at my own jokes not even knowing they are mine.

I just want to be around me as an observer for one day to really know what it's like on the OUTSIDE of Heathers Head.

You know, being in a relationship is such a weird thing. Your life is connected by all these spidery threads to this other person and you have all this STUFF riding on how it's going to pan out and sometimes it is amazing and sometimes it is awful but it is seldom ever dull. (By the way, STUFF is also known as "investments" according to my Communications class.)

And the thing that never ceases to amaze me is the tiny little things that can make the ride INFINITELY better and make the big bad things seem not so bad.

Like, it turns out I'm a bit of a nag. Frankly, if you met the gene pool that I swam out of, this would come as no huge surprise. This causes some friction in our relationship. And I don't like seeing that side of myself and it just puts everything in a dim light. So, there was some clashing last weekend that caused us to need to separate geographically for a little while.

But, the night passed and the week goes by and we laugh together over the dumbest things and talk about everything and it is a wonderful thing. I know he hasn't forgotten that I am a nag and I know that I have not forgotten that he makes me feel like a nag but it just doesn't matter.

Because even after all this time and all the ups and downs, there are still times that I get the butterflies in my stomach knowing I'm going to see him soon or talk to him again or whatever. And that to me is just the coolest part of it. When I am driving in to work in the morning and I think about something that happened between us and it just makes me smile and sometimes even laugh out loud, to me -- that's what it is all about.

Bad things are going to happen. Maybe even really bad things, who knows? I hope not, everyone does. But I know that as long as we are in it together then we just can't lose.

Dumb things I enjoy... We both are addicted to the Apprentice and normally get together to watch it but circumstances this week haven't allowed that. So, during the first big commercial break, I went to call him to talk to him about something on it and his phone was busy. I thought to myself that man is so tired of talking to me that he took his friggin' phone off the hook! The nerve of him! And so on. Not two seconds later, the message indicator comes on my phone. I checked my voicemail and it was him -- bawling me out melodramatically about screening his calls and what have we come to, etc. When I called him back, I was laughing so hard I almost fell off the couch. We were trying to call each other at the EXACT same time. It's kismet. But, it's fun.

That's the thing. We just have fun. And yet, I can talk to him about the not as fun stuff too and just feel completely comfortable in every way. I think in a week when I have seen JUST how opposite the spectrum can go because of a friend's really unfortunate situation, I am more than a little appreciative of what I really do have.

I know -- gag, right? But at least my voice doesn't change octaves when I'm talking to him and that has just got to count for something!!

HP

BRIDEZILLA FOREVER!

You know, I have thrown that phrase around a time or two in my day but I gotta tell you -- I'm starting to gain a lot of sympathy for these creatures.

I would have to say that to date planning a wedding has been one of the most stressful experiences of my life.

And I have been divorced, changed jobs, and moved -- once all within a month. AND had major surgery on a grapefruit sized tumor. And none of that compares to this stress level.

In case you didn't know, I am normally a fairly confident, self-assured, assertive person. I don't have problems making decisions at all. I once whimsically decided it might be nice to have a new car and 48 hours later I was driving one. When I decided I wanted to move back to Virginia, I divested myself of most of my worldly possessions (as well as all of my ex's left overs), packed what was left, arranged for movers and drove cross-country in a car held together by a couple of bolts and a dream within 30 days.

What I am saying is that I never thought that I would be the kind of person who would stare at invitations for hours and agonize over the color and type of font. And yet, I have. The simplest decisions seems to weigh three-fold. They don't seem so simple anymore. Because you know that at least half of the people you invite are ultimately judging you by your invitation. Judging you by your invitation!

I know this, because I have done it. Good Lord, she didn't even send a response card? And there aren't even directios to the reception site, for pity's sake.

And then there's all of the other decisions. Who to invite, who not to invite. What to say to the people who aren't invited should they ask. How to make the most diverse group of people you have ever assembled universally happy.

After all, as the saying goes -- the only place unlike social types can really get along is in Heaven. And half the people coming, including myself, only have a 50/50 chance of ever even being able to verify if that is even true or not!

And I'm the kind of person who likes other people to be happy. And comfortable and at ease. Apparently, at the sacrifice of my own comfort and ease. Why do I need to be happy?? It's not like this has anything to do with me!

It's crazy. I know why I want the wedding, both the good reasons and the really awful ones, but I think if I had known I was going to get THIS stressed out about it -- I might have been more willing to discuss eloping.

Because the other thing they don't tell you is that while you are going completely out of your mind planning the event of the year, you start to have really negative feelings towards the person who is the reason you are planning all of this.

And he towards you because all you ever seem to be able to talk about is this damned wedding.

And believe me, I make a conscious effort to talk about other things or even not to talk when we are together, but the gears are always in motion, anticipating the next major hurdle and that makes it hard to keep that promise. But, I do try and he's trying to pretend like it matters.

But we both just want it to be over with and hope that we still want to be married after the event.

People tell me that we will.

Perhaps the answer is separate honeymoons, ha ha.

But, the Bridezilla thing? It's cruel even if it is true. The next time you are tempted to use this moniker, I want you to think about what it would be like to plan a party for 150 people who wouldn't ever normally be even in the same STATE at the same time, much less in the same room -- while working full-time, going to school part-time and dealing with a major management shift at your job.

Yeah. That's what it's like.

Anyways. I have homework I should be doing and television that I WILL be watching! Later!

HP

Look, I need y'all to be patient with me. I'm gonna stop in and post from time to time as I've been doing all along. But, I'm getting married and planning that and taking classes and working full time and we're going to be moving in together in a few months. I got a lot going on. And I'm only one woman.

But I can GUARANTEE you that being married is going to provide a crap-ton of material for this here blog and all of your waiting and watching will not be in vain.

So, keep checking in. I'm gonna keep posting, just not at my previous prolific levels. Doesn't mean I don't want you in on the inner workings of my head, it just means I simply don't have a lot of time!

love you though!

Having a vagina ain't for pussies

You know, I get a little torqued when men throw out that "time of the month, eh?" thing. Because, yeah -- it's true, but they have ABSOLUTELY no idea what that means.

Or even what it means to have a vagina in general.

I mean, if they had to deal with the bleeding, cramping, headaches, bizarre tie-in to your bowels, mood swing thing every single month of their lives they'd be a little fucking crabby, too.

Not to mention the occasional inexplicable discharges, yeast infections, bladder infections.

And then there's the hair issue. Seems to always need some level of grooming. Too much or not enough, and I don't see them hankering into bizarre positions with sharp instruments poised above THEIR private areas too regularly.

Then you got to dress it up the right way. Gotta let it breathe but not too much because then there's that odor.

God help you if you have a vagina that smells. Never mind trying to tell them what THEY smell like down yonder, they think it smells like roses and tastes like chocolate.

White chocolate, that is.

I'm just saying -- suffer a couple of headaches and a life-altering level of mood swings regularly and then come to me with your "that time of the month, eh?"

Gotta go philosophize...

HP

OHMUHGOD,OHMUHGOD!

Well, hasn't this just been the 5 days to beat the band? I found my wedding dress! Yay! I found bridesmaid dresses! Yay! The Big Move passed and even though it sucks, at least it's over. (The work Big Move, the personal one -- nowhere near time for yet.)

AND ADAM RETURNS IN AVERAGE JOE'S REVENGE!

Okay, okay. That's not what it is called. But, it should be.

Frankly, this is the thing that can EASILY crack my wedding obsession. That and the daunting task of ever catching up on my communications homework. Uh, SCARY!

Okay, but back to Adam. He is just as adorable as before, but he has got some scary ones to weed out of this crop before we can get down to the normal girls. Especially that Jen L girl. She is SUPER scary! She looks and acts like a Saturday Night Live caricature of what someone on that show would act like.

I'm not sure if I can get as obsessed with this show as I did with the first one. Watching a bunch of girls fighting over one guy? Snore, that's just an average night a Bar Norfolk. Women ganging up and getting catty over one guy is just kind of silly. When men have to do it, it's fun to watch. And having that beautiful girl in the position of having to pick from regular guys, I liked that too. But, Adam's just a guy who finally gets a chance to have a room full of women saying how great he is. The fact is that he seems like a pretty great guy to begin with, so it's kind of a shame that it took NBC to make a bunch of women realize that.

So, we'll see. Maybe I'll get into it, maybe I won't.

One of the things that he said that I really liked was when he was talking about how all of his friends say that when you meet the right person, you just know it and that's who you want to be with for the rest of your life. He said something about how it wasn't like you never LOOKED at anyone else, but not in that same way. That's how it is for me with Scott. It's not like I don't ever look at other guys and think -- mmm hmmmm... But, the fact is that I can't imagine myself with anyone else. I really do feel like for better, for worse -- we're in it together. So, that's why even when things are not going well, I don't dog him out to my friends and everyone on the planet (well, unless I'm sleep deprived and there were toilets overflowing involved) -- he's my partner. It makes me feel disloyal to say be disrespectful. Frankly, it's not always easy to keep things to myself because he does some pret-ty frustrating things. But, what're you gonna do?

Today, I said this was the Monday-est of Mondays and now it's over.

THANK GOD!

love you mean it,
HP

Things that Bamboozle me

I don't know how to put my hair into one of those super-sleek and smooth ponytails. [Sidenote: am I the only one who thinks that smooth should have an e on the end of it?] Actually, up-do's in general are the bane of my existence, but particularly ponytails. Every time I see one of those when it's done like grown-ups it just makes me want to do that. But, mine are either too high or too low and NEVER that smooth without a lot of really obvious product. Maybe it's because I color or have lots of cowlicks, not to mention that I don't even like my face enough to have it that exposed so I'm not sure why I want it that much.

Also, why isn't there some kind of fool-proof way to figure out how you would look with bangs without having to commit to them?

Moving on... Why can't I just accept that I am a plus-size girl and move on with my life? I am tired of beating myself up about it and yet still not doing anything about it. I just need to get on ONE plan and be done with it. Seriously. Right now, it's a clothing issue more than anything else. It's next to impossible to find clothes in my actual size. There are plenty of things that are supposed to be designed for my size, but they're always either too big or too small or too... not right! And I am in the wrong zone -- I'm in a size that too big to be able to find a lot of clothes in a regular person's store and too small to have a decent collection in a big girl's store. Which is REALLY frustrating. I truly am a freak -- too big to be skinny but too skinny to be big. I want a store that's designed JUST for people like me -- the in-between market.

However, according to most manufacturers there apparently aren't many of us out there -- because the stores only seem to ever have but a scant few 14's, but hundreds of 10's. HUNDREDS. Where are these girls hiding out? There are clothes for them EVERYWHERE. In fact, if I could afford liposuction, all I would really want is to get sucked down to a size 10 and medium shirts. I would be set for life. Seriously. And the stuff would be cheap as shit too. Because they have so much of it, they're usually giving it away. Whereas I almost never buy anything on sale, because if I wait for the sale it will be gone gone gone.

Another confounding fact of life is men and the princess thing. Was indulging in some Newlyweds tonight and Nick used the word camaraderie and Jessica didn't know what it meant. Seriously, are you friggin' kidding me? I mean, it's a known fact that she's not a genius and that she is DEFINITELY a princess. Scott jokingly (I hope) compares me to her frequently, especially when I'm acting rather princess-like. But the fact is that Nick loves that girl more than anyone ever could and it's the same with Scott and me. So, do they want the princess but just like to bitch about it? Do they like it BECAUSE they get to bitch about it?? I don't get it.


Anyways, had my first team meeting today with my new team and my new boss. I'll just leave it that it's going to be really interesting. I may have LOTS more material in the coming weeks... We'll all be together officially this Monday.

That's about all I've got tonight. Heading out of town to bond with the B-maids this weekend and find them some dresses and stuff.

If only I could find a dress for ME that I really liked! :)

HP

Telling it like it is since 1973

The fact of the matter is that I DO tell it like it is. Or at least, as I see it. This is probably where Scott and I are the MOST alike, which is the hardest part of being in a relationship. Because if you do not want to know what I think, then don't ask. And I'm much more extreme about it, because frankly I'm pretty bad about telling you what I think even if you don't ask -- though I have tried to temper that as I get older.

But, many people ask me for advice throughout the day and the week and my life and I give it. And I don't sugarcoat it. Ever. If you wanted candy coating, you would have been eating M&M's, not talking to me. And it's just that simple.

But I'm thinking I'm going to start revamping my balls to wall advice and I'm going to shorten it to this: Choose to be happy, no matter what.

The fact is that choosing to do things that will make you happy in the LONG run is seldom easy in the SHORT run. But, really -- which would you rather have? I'm saying if you have tried everything to make something work, then draw the line somewhere and stick to it. It's the lines in the sand that will get you every time.

Scott complains to me about his mom and she complains to me about him. I implore them both to try to talk to each other and work things out and they don't/can't/won't. Frankly, I can't make things better for you if you don't want to work it out. I have tried to explain to both of them what I think the problems are and it's like I'm talking to the wall. My work neighbor complains about her husband and her kids and issues them ultimatums that she doesn't follow through with. It's never going to change because they know that it doesn't have to!

I am NOT naive -- I know that things and situations and people don't change overnight and sometimes not at all. But the fact is that if you work on it hard enough you CAN change how you react to the situation. You can. Because you do not have to choose to put y ourself in a position to be affected adversely by people that make you unhappy. Or you can choose to explain to people that make you unhappy WHY they make you so unhappy -- so what if it's awkward? It's not like it was so great before. People can and will surprise you every friggin day by doing things that you didn't expect them to do.

Raise the bar! Expect more! If you're disappointed, so what? Is THAT the worst thing that's ever happened to you??

Well, good for you then. Good for you. Because if being disappointed is the worst thing you've ever had to suffer then you have had a very good life indeed.

HP

Where the FUCK did my life go??

It's like, I'm sitting here one minute and it's Christmas and then 20 seconds later it's March 8. March friggin' 8th. I am getting married in 4 months and becoming Mrs. Ohtheresplentyoftimeforthat.

Ri-ight.

So, I keep buying into that, until folks keep asking me if I've done this or that or thought of this or that and I just stare at them blankly until they get the point. Sometimes they do not get the point, so I will try to cry or scream or whatever it takes to make them run away in fear.

Sometimes those people are my future mother in law or even my own mother, so the above is not an option. That's when I just sputter through my answers and ask them what their thoughts are. Sometimes this work.

Sometimes I use their thoughts as a firm idea of what I definitely do NOT want. This seems to work well, sometimes.

And then the planning took a complicated turn this weekend because we spent a lot of time with Scott's extended step-family, I guess you could call them. They're not related by blood but he's been close to them for years so they may as well be. These people were friggin' awesome. They love to party and they like to get together and talk trash. The problem is that there is like 100 of them or more. I can't afford to throw a wedding for 250 people, I just can't. But, the grumbling was starting because almost none of the cousins are going to be invited -- and this was a very sore subject.

Which I can and can't understand. I mean, I get that they're family and they want to be included but they have to understand that weddings are not free, right? I would love to have them all there -- I thought they were great. Frankly, a hell of a lot more exciting than my own family to be sure -- and possibly even more interesting than many of my friends. But, still they are my family and my friends and you just have to draw the line somewhere.

It really is the guest list that pushes you over the edge. It's the cutting it down and catering it to whom you think will actually come and whether or not they will even fit in with your other crew and so on and on. It's ridiculous. It becomes a hierarchy of anyone you have ever known and how important they really are to you. It's probably the number one thing that is related to the wedding that Scott and I disagree on. If he had it his way, there would be practically no one there. He says it should be about the people who are involved in our lives. I say that there are plenty of people that I'm not involved with on a daily basis who mean or have meant a lot to me through the years. I want to share this day with all the people who have brought me to where I am today. Almost everyone that you meet in life has some influence on your life, even if that influence is no greater than "phew, sure am glad THAT'S not my life."

Anyways, I did want to write about the weekend with Scott's family -- but there's too much that's not really fit for public consumption, so I guess you'll just have to ask me about it if you want to know. ;-)

rsvp now you hear?

HP

Ode to my Hairdresser -- sorta

So, my hairdresser rocks. The Goth Girl is always hooking me up with ideas and good hair kharma and stuff. She did a real number on my hair a couple of years ago and when people hear the story and then hear that I'm still with her, they always scratch their heads and make a confused face.

Can't help it. There's not many people who can turn you into a human shag carpet and then make you come back for more. I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment that way.

The thing is though -- I realized that my Gothgirl is like Scott in some ways. She's a teaser. From the minute I get in the shop until the time I walk out, she's usually teasing me about something. Granted, I bring much of this on myself by making ditzy comments like, "I wanna be blonde because I associate blondeness with brideness." (Yes, this is an actual Heather original comment.)

But the thing that I realized is that she teases me because, in her own way, she loves me. Not like some of my long-time close friends, but in more than just your average hairdresser-client kind of way. Because underneath the teasing, there's always something there will always be a remark that's usually very kind and considerate. And, like Scott and his delivery of these lines, these comments and their true sincerity will often take me completely off-guard. When I was in this past Saturday, getting back in touch with my blondeness, she was directing me towards the dryers and started carting all my stuff over for me. I got a little huffy and told her not to treat me like, you know, a princess. She told that she was going to treat me like I was a princess because I AM a princess and I deserve only the best and therefore deserve to be treated as such. Or something of that ilk -- something that said, hey -- you are special and you just need to recognize that.

It's nice to have that. Especially in the midst of bridal anxiety and getting overwhelmed by the minutiae. Don't get me started because the truth is I'm freaking out. I don't think there's much chance of me turning into Bridezilla and driving everyone crazy over getting every last detail exactly right because I'm still not sure what the friggin' details are!

I get to a point where I narrow down the things that I think are left to be considered and checked off. The music, the invitations, the cake. And then I will casually mention one thing to someone and that turns into a whirlwind of what color is this and where will this person stay/stand/sit/crap/whatever. Well, shit -- I hadn't even thought about what color that would be and I didn't even remember that THAT person was supposed to be coming. Oy vey. And then I'm back to ostrich mode. Which is not really solving things.

Anyways, so back to the Gothgirl. She's helping me out a little on one of my minutiae issues -- the invitations. And she keeps it real for me by reminding me, "This is NOT your wedding." That's the reality of it, folks and that really does help ground me. She even has her own hand in the NOT my wedding part. I told her that I was hoping that she was going to help me with my makeup in addition to my hair that day and she told me that I never would have had a choice in that because she "does my makeup better than I do."

Damn, well that's true. Frankly, if I ever get rich I'm gonna get her to be my on-call hair ho. Kinda like Christina Aguilera does. For those of you with lives outside of the E! channel, that's an interesting fyi -- Christina has her own hair person who comes out whenever she feels like "playing with her hair" -- even if it's like 3am. All that freak stuff, on call. I bet my Goth girl would get a kick out of making hair for me and stuff. I wouldn't even make her get up before noon.

Cuz I'm a cool rich girl like that, in my fantasy rich girl life. :)

Gonna go layer up for bed -- at the rate I'm going, guess I'll catch y'all next week!

HP