TV/book pairing


source: Netflix

“If someone loves you for what you can do then it’s flattering, but why do you love them? If someone loves you for who you are then they have to know you, which means you have to know them.”
― Ann PatchettBel Canto


Fear and Failure to Flourish

Everyone has their own ingrained system for dealing with emotions. We, while capable of reacting in a multitude of ways, form paths early in our lives that predict and dictate how our later/future selves will respond in times of trouble.

Unfortunately, those behaviors aren’t always the most sophisticated or the wisest choices in how to react. Remember: we learn these during our formative years when our brains and bodies are still coding experiences to save us time later.

The first time I wanted to kill myself, I was eleven.

I had learned about suicide the year before. There had been a death in my family. Decades later, I would learn that a minimum of two people in my family had attempted suicide. And those are just the family I know about. When I was a child, I was exposed to a negative, reoccurring event. It’s taken me several dozen years to get to a place where I can fully acknowledge how toxic that situation was. At the time, my brain and body assessed that I was incapable of dealing with the flood of fear that I was immersed in. In order to survive, my unconscious created a plan.

As an adult human functioning in the real world, this has fucked up my life and created a ripple effect that I’m only just beginning to grasp. But as a frightened child trying to survive, my brain said, “This is how. We’re going to live.”

Which means that when my mind encounters a stressful situation, it switches to auto-pilot and puts on a record that went platinum when I was little. Because it was a proven system to ensure survival.

Let’s use an example: if you have a parent who beats you, you strategize to decrease the likelihood of physical abuse. Maybe they hit you when you wear the color red. So you learn to *not* wear that color, because your life is much easier when you don’t. But ten years later, you see yourself avoiding shopping at Target and refuse to drive, because being exposed to that color is a trigger that sends you back to that fear and now you’re hyperventilating and you don’t know why. Or you know, but you can’t stop it.

The example is absurd, but that is what the brain does.

The past year has been a learning experience for me. I often have to pause and congratulate myself, because my mind adapted initially and the plan succeeded…for that situation at that time.

But now, when I find myself in stressful situations, I respond the same. Several years ago, a co-worker who has anger management problems confronted me (poorly) about something I did that she didn’t like. Within seconds, my heart pounded in my head, my breath hardened, and I felt my attention from her drift to the door. You could run, my fear said. Right now. This qualm is ridiculous and petty. You don’t have to work with someone like that, and you shouldn’t have to. Run out that door right now and never come back. 

Which meant, in addition to being afraid that I hadn’t heard a word of her complaint after she began, because all my energy kicked into the Kevin Space hostage negotiator from the amazing 90’s movie, The Negotiator: “You are at work. You only have a few hours until you can leave. Money is important to not living on the street, and running away from this will mean that this could be your reality.” I have a better understanding of the situation today, but I have a long way to go to undue years of trauma.

While I’m training my brain, I have to limit my exposure to triggers. Which is harder than it sounds. Almost two years ago, I had a rough week. My therapist at the time instructed me emphatically to rest the whole weekend. “Do NOT do any activity that stresses you out, even if it is an errand or chores.” This was a compromise. In return for doing this, she would agree not to hospitalize me. When I told my husband I was essentially on bed rest “against all stressors,” he chuckled and said, “But that’s everything except TV.” I proceeded to spend the entire weekend on the couch sobbing through a TV marathon. At one point, I invited a friend over, and partway through our time together, she had to call for a ride home because I was too upset to take her. And she’s one of my best friends but I could barely talk to her while she was here.

Two winters ago, one of our friends told us a mutual acquaintance had been “hospitalized due to her pregnancy.” It took several minutes for me to realize what was abundantly obvious to all others present during this discussion: she’d been hospitalized for morning sickness and loss of fluids, not as I had interpreted, for a mental breakdown.

So, when you see someone struggling to wade through the tide of everyday life and see their confused, poor reaction as an intelligence issue, consider the alternatives. One of which is that their brain is operating on an original format in an advanced, non-traumatic world.

Sometimes the struggle is a more intense reality than we’re willing to verbally admit.

Sugar Eye, Honey Munch


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Last month, my husband sent me a link to a CNN article “One-month Sugar Detox” with the following, single-sentence introduction: I’m game if you are. 

Let it be known that I’m neither a diet guru nor anyone’s nutritional role model. I can count on one hand the number of attempts I’ve made in my life. The best attempt I had at dieting was 8-9 years ago. My supervisor and gluten-free boss recommended it, and I tried it in the hopes that I would feel better. There wasn’t nearly the same kind of specialty food market that’s out there today, nor was I up to doing much research on the subject. Since I hate cooking/meal prepping and have what I can only describe as weak to zero self-control when it comes to food, I failed hard. I tried a different approach with an app for dieting a couple summers back which ended almost as soon as it started with the words, “Fuck it, I’m eating all the chocolate cake I want,” and I never looked back.

Back in February, I read about the sugar wars in The Atlantichow hard it is to quit the white stuff but how beneficial it can be. I’d mentioned to my husband how I wanted to read it and had stored it in the back of my mind with the billions of other books I’d like to read one day and more or less forgot about it. I’d heard a few people recommend it as a helper for the chronic illness that I have, but in the past it had seemed nearly impossible. I was not up for the task and had not entertained the possibility although when I read the aforementioned article, I was intrigued.

Upon reading my husband’s challenge link, I chuckled to myself. For the first few days, you completely cut yourself off from this substance. The side-effects are also supposed to be terrible. I’d been finding myself in the past year becoming more and more of a garbage mouth. I’d sub the worst food choices in lieu of good ones and not even enjoy them as I should (think Josh Hartnett’s character in 40 Days and Nights). I wanted to lose weight, mostly in my stomach, and I was concerned about getting diabetes.

When my husband arrived home, I agreed on the caveat that we have plenty of food in the house when we start. “I’ll do it with you. I’m not sure I can do it, and it might kill me, but I’ve got to do something. So sure. Why not?”

I’d read another article awhile back that said sugar was more addictive than cocaine or heroin. Eye roll. Yeah, okay.

The first three days, to put it mildly, were uncomfortable. I had an ongoing, throbbing headache, and when I ate all the things that weren’t sugar (meat, vegetables, nuts, and eggs), my body didn’t know what to do. I’d tended to eat more sugar in the afternoons and evenings, and I felt worse during those times. I was used to inhaling all the processed junk, so when I offered and partook of sustenance, I could feel my brain getting confused. “I, um, no. You know what I want. Don’t you have anything GOOD?”

I realized on day two, that it was silly to laugh at the article which spouted the saccharine nectar of the gods as more potent than hard drugs. After all, I’d never tried either of them. But I had tried sugar, and this was not easy. I made a mental note to not ever do those drugs even on the off chance that they were easier. Besides, I still had to get through the week. The same day, my husband turned down free work donuts, so I knew I had to resist while moving ever forward. The good news is that I’m ridiculously low motivation when it comes to hunting or rustling up grub besides what we already have in the house, and I know this about myself, so I decided that I’d continue if for no other reason than I was too weak from the lack of sugar to leave. But mostly it was my husband turning down donuts.

I’m currently in my third week of my diet. I have been cheating here and there, but overall, I’m still doing well. I took a college class and at one point the strictness and unforgiving nature of 12 step sobriety programs was questioned. I believe that by allowing leniency, one can benefit in the longrun, especially from an angle of self-care. Today, for example, I had a strawberry smoothie. However, I found myself recoiling at even its small size that old me would’ve devoured in 5 seconds flat. It’s now only half gone, resting in the fridge to be continued at a later time.

Here’s what I’ve gathered so far:

  • Quitting sugar is challenging
  • Sugar is in more than you think in higher volumes than you think (some websites or articles will even show the amount of processed sugar you consume when you have a beverage or food item)
  • People have unusual reactions when they hear that you’re on a diet
    Most were really supportive, but a couple of people felt very ill at ease. Some were inspired which made me feel good.
  • I lost much of my ability to taste sugar when I was eating so much of it
  • It’s easier to tell which foods/drinks my body straight up does NOT like
    Apparently my body tolerates homemade margaritas better than it does wine. Which honestly, I am okay with but still found surprising.
  • Usually when I cheat by eating/drinking something that’s not on the diet, it’s not always as rewarding I think it’s going to be
    This was especially shocking. I had ice cream the other day and found it TOO sweet! 
  • The number of edible goodies I reward myself with? LOTS! 
    I truly didn’t believe that I was treating myself as much as I was, but when I went on the diet, I realized that I pretty much just let my stomach run the show and my stomach makes really bad decisions when it’s in charge. I also feel much more in charge when I use my self-control on food in a productive way. It can be empowering which I didn’t expect.

I’d like to add that I wouldn’t have been able to get through this without my husband (who at one point made homemade ketchup!) and the fact that I go to acupuncture frequently. I hope to continue this route. Even if I do eventually quit it it’s been a new, interesting journey, and I feel I’ve learned more both about myself and the world.


Have you ever gone on a diet? Did it work out well? How did you motivate yourself to stay on track?


Cue the Guns’N’Roses song, what’s it called? “Patience”

Hello my fellow Weirdies!

I haven’t been the most faithful blogger in the past, but I feel like guilt is one of the top 3 emotions bloggers experience most often in terms of their work. It is certainly one of mine, so I’m taking this opportunity to explain and also offer a mini-Q&A/AMA.

In the past, I’ve taken breaks with increased frequency. My posts became fewer and far between when I moved back to the Pacific Northwest since the South really harnessed much of my thoughts and homesickness (because writers can be bad at making new friends due to introversion and expectations and aging and PRIORITIES) so I had less fuel to fan the flames since some of it was for far away friends and family. Therefore I also had less motivation when I moved back to make it part of my routine–although I did/do try to update it now and then.

There are other reasons as well. Sometimes I wanted to write but felt intimidated by my past posts or started posts but didn’t have the gumption to finish. Lots of times, my health and/or day job took priority or other duties took precedence. I hate saying that because this blog has from its early stages been very important to me, and it’s like saying I don’t have time for someone who used to be one of my closest friends.

However, I have been working on a writing project that means quite a bit to me. It’s something that has been in the works for awhile now and will CONTINUE to be in the works for the near future. That might be frustrating to hear…I find it frustrating, because those of you who know me well know that I am not good at patience. Consequently, it’s something that has also taken a good deal of my time away from blogging, and I feel that it’s time to let y’all know that even though I’m not here posting everyday, I’m still thinking of you and want to put something out there into the universe in the future that you’d want to read.

My below Q&A from some fans should answer a few of the burning questions you may have at this juncture. If it doesn’t answer your questions, please send me a comment! If I get enough comments or one particular one comes up several times (and/or is inspiring and I want to share it!), I will dedicate a post to it.

What is the writing project??
TBA! I say that, because I’m not 100% sure if it’s going to turn into more than one or what form it’s going to take. I imagine it will be a starship in the shape of a unicorn, but that’s more of a picture…and that’s just me saying random words. Also, that would be really hard to steer! But I promise you…you will know more when I do.

When can we read it?
Hopefully soon. The more I work on it, the sooner that time will be, and the more I will know!

Is it a book about the blog? 
No, although it’s something to keep in mind.

Is it another blog? 
No, but it could turn into that.

Do you need money to get it going? 
Great question! I might when the time comes, and if I do, I will update the blog and let you know!

Do you like saying no? 
Mostly no, although it depends on the circumstances.

How impatient are you? 
Very. Enough so that this is going to be my last question answered for now. Thanks all!

Apple surprise

I took my dog on a walk today. The weather has been great! I was trying to hurry out the door so I could come home and make food not long after, so swiped two baggies from kitchen and stuffed them in my walking purse as I was running out the door with the dog (anytime I refer to bag in this, I mean a plastic bag). Normally, I have more time to inspect them, but the weather has been really touch and go.

When I went to pick up my dog’s poop, I saw that one of the bags had a massive hole in it. I had my apple core in the alternative bag that was in my purse to avoid littering. I could still use it as a cover to pick up the poop and place it in the bag with the core. However, on the off chance that the plastic bag with the core had a slight hole I had missed (the bags are pretty thin which is why I use two just in case), I didn’t want to avoid littering little poos on the sidewalk, and obviously I wasn’t going to stuff both into my walking purse which is made of material. So I put the plastic cover containing poop in the apple-core plastic bag and looked for a garbage can. I was right next to one! How perfect!

The second I placed it in the garbage and closed the lid, I heard, “Really?” The owner of the house with the garbage can was glaring at me with her hands on her hips. Note that she wasn’t close (maybe 7 yards or so), but she did look red with anger.

I didn’t know what to say. I mean, now I was scared of her and didn’t want to explain the situation. So I said the first thing that came to me.

“Do you want me to take it back?”

I looked back at the garbage can and began to open it. I was sure she was going to say yes. If you’re one of the people who’s angry enough to yell at someone for picking up the poop from your yard to throw it away either in your garbage can or elsewhere, then you’re probably capable of all kinds of things.

“Ewwwwwwwww,” I heard her say. “It was in your PURSE! Ewwww.” Then she went back in the house.

Did she think my apple core was poop in the other bag? Or that I’d somehow picked up dog poop with my bare hands (I hadn’t, there was a clear plastic cover to keep me poop-free)? Or maybe she was just disgusted that I was willing to take it back? Lady, it’s trash. Trash is gross. It doesn’t matter if it’s yours or mine. Trash is indefinitely gross. It seemed like she was angry past the point of conversation, and I really didn’t want to stick around long enough to begin a discourse town hall weigh in on feces with the person who was shame yelling at me earlier. I realize that I probably should’ve put it in the one bag with the apple core, but if you’ve ever been walking a dog and realized that the poo is falling out of your bag, well, it’s just a much cleaner situation to get rid of the very thin bag right there. And it was one of those moments where I didn’t want to drop the poop by examining the apple core bag which I’d pulled out of the purse while all the time still holding the leashed dog. It seemed like a lot of things to drop, and I made a snap decision.

Besides, would you rather the dog walker just leave the poop in your yard? It seems much ruder to me, and if I’d been able to explain myself better, maybe she would’ve agreed with me. In fact if I had seen her standing there, I would’ve just carried the poop in the plastic bag OR asked her for a second bag to put the first bag in. Anyway, I guess I’ll never know now. But if you see someone pick up poop and throw the poop IN A BAG away in your garbage can, I suggest you let them. Next time, they’ll leave the poop, or maybe worse, throw it at you. Either way, this is one of the best outcomes you can expect.

Are you going to eat that?


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Hypothetical situation: You are a family member that lives with me, and it’s dinnertime at our house. You do chores around the house and contribute to it maybe more or less than other family members. Maybe you pitch in for food, maybe you can’t for whatever reason, but I’ve been feeding you for years and tonight is a different meal plan. Which of the following is acceptable?
A. Not feeding you, because you have food allergies/sensitivities and it’s more expensive to feed you something from a limited diet. I let you know that your food is too expensive for me so I didn’t even look at the supermarket to accommodate you, but you’re happy to buy it yourself while you’re at my house from now on (age is no excuse).
B. Letting you starve, because it’s too expensive to feed you period even though I could afford it.
C. Feeding you, but only the most disgusting mash filled with bi-products and fillers, and oh yeah, you have to buy that from me at an outrageous cost.
D. None of the above
Keep in mind in your choice that regardless of what I’m feeding you, I’ll be eating the finest cuisine that you’ll be paying for ME to eat. It doesn’t matter if you’re an elderly relative or a child. I’m feeding you food that I wouldn’t eat myself. In fact, I’d NEVER eat that.
Does this situation seem fair? If you were my child in real life, the state would remove you from my custody. If you were a family member over the age of 18, outsiders would call you selfish and cruel and try to intervene on your behalf. I could have made adjustments to our current meals by having a discussion with you and working out a better plan, but instead I’ve been complaining for months and just decided to just revoke the current mealtime plan in its entirety.
Why does it make sense that the government whose officials are elected on our behalf, who are supposed to look out for the well-being of citizens, put their needs before ours and make decisions that the majority of us disagree with?

House Sweet House

I’m truly negligent in my blogging abilities, but it feels inadequate to blame it all on low self-esteem as if by doing so I’ll overcome this obstacle and naturally sail from start to finish through all blog entries–or excuse myself from the process of doing so in the first place. I currently have half as many drafts as I do published posts, and WordPress would be wise to make a delete-all button for my drafts so I don’t have to cringe while reading all the words I failed to publish. Maybe this exists and I’m just too tired to look harder for it.

This weekend, I took a time-out from getting our house in order. I feel like King Ralph in his castle, and whenever I meander from room to room, I’m in some Twilight Zone episode of my life where I moved into a hotel yet brought all my own possessions with me. We bought our first house last week, and it still hasn’t fully sunk in.

I was going to write a pre-move-in post about how growing up is odd, terrifying, and occasionally exhilarating, but using the phrase “adulting” makes me shudder, and it seemed unavoidable. Also, surprise! Talking about being anxious breeds more anxiety. Now you get this post instead, which is probably better all around.

There’s a bit of a post-house buying malaise happening to my husband and I right now, which sounds like such a bourgeois predicament, but a similar thing happened during my first year of marriage (although it could have been the whole living in the South on the sun’s surface estranged from close family and friends for the first time ever), so it seems to be the result of closing a stressful chapter in one’s life while trying to determine what comes next. The whole “What do we do now?” shuffling of hands and feet and gazing around as if an answer will drop into our laps. We’re both reticent to start something equally or bigger scale at this juncture. I hope I learned my lesson from that time I got married and moved halfway across the USA at the same time, and since I no longer take Xanax, I’d say I have.

My husband pointed out yesterday that since much of our stuff is still cocooned in cardboard, it makes our daily normal activities irksome. Home ownership was a change we’d planned on making for a long time even if I had more or less given up on it happening during the last few years to save myself the agitation and depression that came with said hope. But we’ve moved 6 times in 7 years. It’s time to stay stationary for awhile.

There’s an overwhelming sense of urgency to complete all chores and home projects, and on Friday I collapsed while my body screeched that I needed to stop and stay in one spot for the remainder of the weekend. I’m not particularly a “do all the things” kind of person since my body balks on a daily basis, so taking time to practice mindfulness and re-familiarize myself with self-care practices seems wise, but I still have to look at all these cardboard boxes. The other component is that there’s only so much money to take on all these projects at a time.

The good news is that we need fewer junk drawer paraphernalia while the house only requires a few more pieces of furniture (and a full-functioning, non-leaking dishwasher which will be delivered later this week).

As we embark on this journey, I find myself turning inward more than to others. I’ve been on a rather isolated path the last year outside of Parker’s company, and to my surprise, it’s less lonely than I imagined it would be. It turns out people and interacting with them brings me less joy and is more taxing than I perceived it was in the past. Part of this is the regular visits to therapy, and the other is the introversion of growing older while living in the same body that experiences chronic illness and pain.

But overall, I’m pleased with this progress we’ve made and am trying my best to take things one step at a time and not get ahead of myself.

What am I doing today? Reading, taking a bath, and folding laundry while catching up on all the TV I’ve missed over the past few weeks while more pressing matters took the lead.

Happy Sunday, all!

Post-Election Playlist

For almost 2 years, I’ve been in therapy. The process is slow but fulfilling. Still, the last few months have increased in difficulty for me, and since I have been doing well (but not quite good enough) I finally agreed to my therapist’s suggestion to try antidepressants.

I was on them in high school, but my hormones were also going insane as were several other chronic components of my life. It’s been 14 years. Time to try again.

This past week they’ve been a godsend. My other godsend, besides the usual amazing suspects, has been music.

Yesterday, I decided that my car was celebrating Bob Dylan 2016. This year, I found I’m old enough to appreciate him. In the past, I wasn’t a Dylan fan. For a young spunky person, his music was too slow and warbly. I’d written him off as a product of my parents’ generation. That’s the great thing about aging. You change.

My husband decided on our recent coastal road trip that we’d be listening to the works of Bob Dylan for part of it since he’d been the first musician awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. I went along with it, because I am agreeable and my husband has always shared my taste for music. Perhaps I would learn something.

Rolling down the highway, staring at new hills and fields that pass while Dylan sings, and plays the harmonica, is soothing. Also, the movie Don’t Think Twice came out, and this song is my life right now. Sidenote: I’ve been fighting a nasty cold this weekend, so I’m a little number than usual, but I’m trying to lean hard into the discombobulation.

“Don’t Think Twice”~Bob Dylan*
This song is personified by the grey skies and rain hitting the window. It wraps you into a little car bubble and reminds you not to overthink a situation.
“Call Off Your Dogs”~Lake Street Dive
Upbeat and friendly, but persistent.

“Call off your dogs

Give someone a call
I know there’s something wrong with the limits
We got turned around, but we could spin it
Call off your dogs
What’s with the wall?
If we’re strong, we can win it
One word can begin it

Every Time it Rains“~Charlotte Martin

“Everyday Robots”~Damon Albarn

“In the Meantime”~Spacehog

“Get off This”~Cracker

“Eve of Destruction”~Barry McGuire

“Hold Me”and “Eyes of the World”~Fleetwood Mac

Gotta admit, Spotify finally figured out that I like 90’s, and today I learned that lots of fantastic music happened during the Reagan/Bush years. I shouldn’t actively hold out hope, but maybe beauty will reveal itself melodically.

*(I also really like the Bree Sharp version)


And on the note of weddings…


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My friend posted an article called “Getting Married is Not an Accomplishment,” and I both do/don’t agree with this article. Please read the article before reading my comments if you feel like including your input. 

Here’s why I can’t fully agree.

For me, getting married signified that I had improved my mental health enough for me to have the potential to sustain a long-lasting relationship. The wedding was a small accomplishment in what would be an ongoing project of lifetime effort (this is sort of addressed at the end but not really). Almost everyone in my family is divorced and suffers from crazy depression/substance abuse, so working on making my mental/physical health and relationships the best they can be are high priority. Why? Because hating your life and doing nothing about it is annoying as shit. These are areas I’m able to make progress in, and that feels good even if it’s doing one self-care thing a day to make me less miserable for myself and those around me.

However, I agree with this article that it’s not a greater accomplishment than the alternatives (although it kind of backpedals on the accomplishments thing at the end, which left me confused). I’m wickedly jealous and proud when I hear my friends have finished grad school and are building their careers. Because of my health, I can’t build a career in the same way healthy people can, and it’s stupid that people’s accomplishments in all areas of their lives aren’t valued in the same way marriages and babies are. Society can’t make money off one’s career like it can a wedding or a new child, and we’re still stuck in that traditional hierarchy of one’s life choices being valued over someone else’s. Which isn’t okay.

I also I feel like I try to value other parts of people’s lives (hobbies, interests, future goals) as much as their careers, because when we’re defined solely by our work, relationships, and baby-making abilities we get uncomfortable. Everybody’s got a point of their life in that list that they’re sensitive about that they’d prefer not to discuss (usually).

The article argues that there’s no brain power or skill to getting married, and that’s technically true if you are one of the following: blessed with good relationship skills (which you probably had to work on which is a skill), a natural ability to charm, generally good mental health (which everyone isn’t). The alternative is you have to find someone who you either hide all your mental health problems from or is mildly crazy themselves. Which means that in the second two scenarios, this is an initial accomplishment that will likely end in disaster. But I do agree that finding someone to be in a good relationship with is luck, because there are a lot of shitty/incompatible people in the world. So in that way, this article is correct.

Wedding Countdown


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My husband is in a wedding party, and not only is he in a wedding party, but he’s the best man. Which means he’s responsible for speech writing as part of his Best Man duties. Now, my husband is not like me. He doesn’t take joy in writing, he finds it tiresome and nerve-wracking. The few times he had to sit down and type something up, it took him much longer than I expected. It’s like 15 minutes per sentence, I think. Maybe I’m being dramatic, because it’s been awhile since he’s written anything. However, when he does write things, they turn out well.


The Wedding Singer via

However, it’s minus a week to until the wedding, and he hasn’t written anything yet. I feel comfortable saying that, because 1, it’s a tv trope which always seems to work out, 2, I think his best man had an idea of what he was going to say and spoke off the cuff at our wedding, 3, I’m fairly certain the groom is too busy with wedding stuff to read this, and 4, if the groom does read this for some reason, he’s too chill to worry (and 5, the bride doesn’t read this). It makes me a little nervous though, so I may write up some ideas. I mean, there will be a moment where we all get to share our stories, and I have one for me. I actually wrote a speech late one night like the first month we found out our friends had gotten engaged. I don’t know where that speech is, but re-writing it should be pretty smooth. I’ll also just jot down a couple of memories that my husband has shared with me over the years about himself and the groom. He mentioned a couple of them when we were chatting a couple weeks ago, so it should be pretty easy to just put down a couple talking points.


What my speech will probably sound like (via


Will Parker read from these notes? Probably not. But it’ll make me as a wife feel better.

I am not in the wedding, but that’s not shocking or unusual. The bride and I are friends, and she was really awesome about letting me and one of our other friends know she still loved us. There was a moment for a couple weeks where I panicked, because Til, the groom, invited us BOTH to the dress rehearsal, and I had to say, “Wait a second, I just have a title right? That’s what Jen said right? I’m not getting a dress and shoes and need to take the day off for photos right?” and he was like, “No, but we love you, and so you’re invited to come to dinner the night before. The only one who has to do shit is Parker.” And then I sighed THE BIGGEST sigh of relief. Because sometimes I think I understand something and then new information comes along, and I’m all, “Did I hear that right? HAVE I BEEN WRONG THIS WHOLE TIME?” and sometimes, I am.

Although I always initially hope that I’m in a bridal party, when it comes time for actual duties and activities, I’m not very good at those. I was sick for about 3 weeks and missed the bachelorette party, and I was really bummed about that. Fortunately, someone took pictures of everyone having a good time and the bachelorette cake penis.

The first time I thought I was going to be a bridesmaid was the worst and the hardest (so far). When one of my closest friends in college told me I was going to be one of her bridesmaids when she and her boyfriend eventually would get married, and then over the next few years we grew apart to an alarming degree (and to be fair, she and her boyfriend were together a considerable time before they got engaged, so that’s really on them). When she announced her engagement I figured she would stick to her word. That’s what people do when they make a promise, right? Instead of taking me aside personally and being like “You get that you didn’t make it, right?” she announced her bridesmaids on Myspace, and I’m not sure if that rates lower than your friends telling you they made the cut and you didn’t or not. But I was still invited to her wedding, and I watched one of my best friends who I introduced her to walk down the aisle instead of me in a color that I would’ve looked amazing in. But I did get to bring a date, and we did shred up the dance floor with my best friend and her boyfriend at the time who now just a giant tool of an ex-boyfriend. Also why I resent Myspace and am glad that it was left behind for Facebook. It was a lesson I learned from and one I tried not to repeat when my husband and I got engaged.

I also had a dream that the wedding party was at some historical site (maybe for the wedding? dreams are weird), and I tore off all my clothes and ran buck naked through the site yelling, “EVERYBODY’S STREAKING!” and then a guard ran me down so I escaped by jumping into a pool of toxic chemicals where my muscles started being destroyed by burning. But that is my dreamworld paying omage to my party persona Frank the Tank from Old School. And as I mentioned, dreams are weird.


Besides, streaking would mean less time to wear a bomb ass dress and look hot. Also it wouldn’t be very helpful.

And I want my dance moves to speak for themselves.