Diary of a bridesmaid (aka N is a god)

Part 1: Hair and make-up
Arrive at hotel where wedding is being held. Immediately run into two other bridesmaids, my mom and stepfather, the bride's father, and the groom. The day has begun! Check into room. Leave N with parents while I find other bridesmaids. Go to room where four girls slept the night before. There's half a sheet cake in there. Woo, they had a good time!

Run around like crazy, getting ready in different rooms, using everyone else's hair products, find bride getting made up in the bridal suite. Hey, there's a huge sheet cake in here, too! Use five bridesmaids to get bride into dress. Forget to ask if she needs to pee before getting into that huge thing.

Part 2: Papparazzi
Watch the bride and groom take a zillion pictures. Eventually join in and take a jillion more. During photo breaks, some bridesmaids indulge at the bar. I pride myself on thinking ahead that that's not a good idea (foreshadowing, anyone?). Try to figure out what to do with purse. End up taking it back to hotel room and giving N things to hold. N's been drinking (with parents and on own)! Wooo, everyone's already having a good time!

Part 3: The waiting
The guests are arriving while the bride and groom are still taking pictures. The bride puts a stop to that and goes to await the rabbi and the signing of the ketubah (Jewish marriage contract). The rabbi is late. Very late. While we wait and wait, half the bridal party is in the bar. I still don't think that's a good idea before going to stand for a long time in front of a jillion people.

Part 4: The ceremony
Finally, finally, we get to start the long aisle walk. Ceremony, ceremony, ceremony, vows, vows, oops, one of the bridesmaids feels faint and has to sit down. Small panic among bridesmaids, but everyone ends up fine. Ceremony, ceremony, break the glass, mazel tov! Walk back down aisle to cocktail hour. I comment to the groomsman who's escorting me: Can we make a pitstop at the bar?

Part 5: The party
Woo!! It's time to party! The bar is open! There are hors d'oeuvres! Cheese! Drinks! Woo! Get in line for bar! Get a drink! Get handed another drink by stepfather! And another by boyfriend! Woo! Drinking!

Go into reception hall. Open bar has moved inside. N gets us drinks. Waiter pours wine and champagne. A little dancing. Make a toast with another bridesmaid. N gets us drinks. Drink champagne. Sample wine. N gets us drinks. Talk, talk, talk, laugh, laugh, laugh. Love everyone in the room! I'm the funniest girl here! This is so fun! Finish wine! Finish drinks! Get more drinks! What? The band is done playing? Let's go to hotel bar! Yeah! More drinks! Drink, drink, drink!

At hotel bar. One more drink. Others from the wedding party trickle in. Best night ever! So much fun! There's the bride and groom! Wooo! Drinks! Go to bathroom. On walk back to bar, stumble into wall. Realize I've had waaay too much to drink. Tell N I think I should go (though he says he made me go). Head outside for fresh air. Go up to hotel room.

Part 6: Oh. my. god! (aka, N is the greatest boyfriend ever)
The toilet bowl is my best friend. The toilet bowl is my best friend! Will not leave toilet bowl! N makes me leave toilet bowl. Hardly remember anything else, but N can tell all in great detail. I suck, he rocks. One of most intense drunks of my life. N is a god. I am forever in N's debt. Screw the toilet bowl, N is my best friend.

Woke up in morning. Bleh. Bleh! The toilet bowl is my best friend. Realize I'm still wearing all make-up, pearls and earrings, and not much else. Don't remember getting out of dress. Have to meet mom and stepfather for breakfast. Bleh, food! Mom is very concerned about hangover. Can't stop talking about it. I order coffee and nothing else. Can't drink coffee. People from wedding party stop by and say: How are YOU feeling today? Lots of people say it, but others are suffering from the night's antics, too.

N drives us home in my car. Take hotel laundry bag, just in case hurling needed. Get to apartment. Lie on couch for hours and hours. Feeling better now. Great party, guys!

Part 7: Vow to not drink like that again
Really, I do.

In which the vision of my bank account dwindling doesn't hurt (too much)

So, I'm watching a show (the name of which will remain anonymous to protect the innocent...the innocent being my cool reputation) about girls who have escaped from a polygamist cult. They'd been raised to believe that men are superior, that getting married off to an old man at age 14 is normal and expected, that sharing that old husband with 20 other women is the way to heaven, and among other things, that dinosaurs never existed.

Somehow, the girls on the show had the idea that they should get out of this lifestyle, and at the risk of losing everything they've ever known to be true, escaped. Now they're struggling with the idea that they might go to hell because they've left the lifestyle. Shown dinosaur bones at museum, they still weren't sure if they believed in their existence. It made me think, you know. I can't imagine being pulled out of this lifestyle and being told that everything I know is wrong. How do you start to believe that? But, I think that with these girls, they were finally beginning to see that they could control their own lives, they didn't have to do everything they were told, and they certainly didn't have to marry a man just because they were told it was time. They specifically said that they were happy just being able to make decisions for themselves.

I guess what I'm taking a long time getting to is that we should appreciate being able to make a decision, any decision, about our lives. We can do anything we want. Pick a career, any career! Go on vacation, any vacation! Empty the dishwasher tomorrow...or never! Get a dog, get a cat, get a plasma TV! Jump up on the couch to declare your love, however retarded you may look (I'm talking to you, Tom Cruise)! Eat ice cream for dinner! Pay your bills in pennies! The point is, if it makes you happy and won't land you in jail, don't question it! Do it! Rah, rah, rah! Up With People! (I really should look that up before I reference it, but I'm too lazy.)

OK, time for Rob and Amber to get married now. See ya!

Here a sith, there a sith

Star Wars overload! We saw Sith on Friday night, had friends over to play the Sith video game (and admire N's lightsaber), listened to the soundtrack whenever we were in the car, and watched the original on DVD. Every magazine in N's place has Darth Vader on the cover. Every other show in N's TiVo playlist is Star Wars related. Don't get me wrong, we had a fun weekend, but I think I'm ready for some good old John Hughes movies right about now! I'm eyeing my St. Elmo's Fire DVD as we speak (is that John Hughes? Hold on...It is not. Damn, I suck. I guess I have to give up my Teen of the '80s merit badge now.). However, I'm too tired to sit through a whole film. In fact, I have Envy playing in the background (recorded as a result of my Amy Poelher WishList), but it's not good, really. I'm about ready to crash. It's been too hot to sleep well and I've been nodding off all over the place for the past couple days (not that that's too unusual for me). Oh, how I long for central air. And a beach house, for that matter. Though, if I had the beach house I don't think I'd really need the central air. At this point I'd take one or the other.

My internet is intermittant these days, so I don't know how often I'll get to post this week. And that knowledge puts a lot pressure on me to come up with something good while the internet is working, so I'll tell you this fantastic story about the time I...

I like my fluffy teen shows with a sidecar of death

Well. That was interesting. Who'd've ever thought that The friggin O.C., of all shows, would end with one of its characters shot to death. Shot! to! Death! (I think death...I'm pretty sure death.) It's really not what I tune in to The O.C. for, really. And could it be any more graphic? Sheesh. They might've lost me for next season. The show has really gone downhill in the last months, so I might end my break from Survivor in the fall and ditch Marisa and Summer and Ryan and Seth (ooh, sorry, Seth, I still do love you...mostly because you're always doing N-esque things, and who wouldn't love that? I mean, playing the Revenge of the Sith video game and going to see the IMAX shark movie all in one episode? Really, they must have a camera in N's apartment).

(By the way, I catch anyone using "Sidecar of Death" for their band name, and I'm gonna demand royalties.)

Hey, anyone heard of this movie that's coming out this weekend? Something to do with a galaxy somewhere? Yeah, I think we might go see that.

You're older than you've ever been

...and now you're even older. Bleh. Shut up, They Might Be Giants!

Anyway, my internet is back...for now! Here's what you missed: L's bachelorette party went off without a hitch (at least that I know of). I drank a lot but was surprisingly in control the bulk of the time. Except that I participated in an activity that I usually shun: dancing. And it was fun, so I probably was drunk! At one point, five or so of us were dancing, and when I looked around I noticed that the crowd had stopped and were all facing in one direction. Turns out, there was a "fashion show" going on in the middle of the dance floor. The guys and girls were wearing little to nothing (several of the boys shed their shirts as they walked down the catwalk, and the girls were just barely covered...some with just a few strings and pasties), so we didn't even need to spring for a strip club! All in all, it was a good time. But, boy am I not the clubbing type these days. (And now I'm even older.)

Let's see, what else? Mother-effers around here (and everywhere) cannot drive! I swear, more and more idiots are on the road when I'm trying to get to work. Drive faster! Don't turn right when I have a left arrow! Get off my ass! Go through the yellow! Go through it!! Argh! Some mornings I can be the poster child for road rage, I'm sure. But dammit! Drive!! Oh, speaking of the freeway, should I buy fruit from the guys at the off-ramps? They have cherries! And I want some. But is there something shady about the whole thing? Who are these guys? Tell me!

Please forgive me for saying this, but surely there's a better way to spend my time than filling up and clearing off my TiVo, right? (I know, I don't know who I am anymore, either.) I have the urge to take that ceramics class I've always dreamed of (c'mon, you saw Ghost, right?). Or something. But not the gym. I just can't get back into it. Maybe I'll try. But seriously, I've been too lazy to even go in there to cancel my membership...you think I'm gonna make it in there to work out? Please.

Alright, I think I've used up enough TiVo lead time to start in on Britney & Kevin: Chaotic. What? Tell me you're not gonna watch the first one! That's what I thought.

Mere minutes later: My lord is that show terrible! Ugh! I'm only continuing to watch because she's in England. It's this bad and Kevin hasn't even shown up yet. I'm gonna need a shower after this.

Adelphia can bite my big balls

Anyway, just a quick update...I'd love to post my ass off from home, but Adelphia's (hah, spell check wanted to change "Adelphia" to "Adolph"!) intermittent internet service over the past few days is making it impossible. Jerks! You're on my list!

I'm not feeling right about posting at work. More later. I leave you with my drink list from L's bachelorette party Saturday:

1 appletini
2 glasses champagne
1 lemondrop shot
4 rum & diet Cokes
1 blowjob shot

(Pretty good, eh?)

Alright, where are the cameras?

Here's something I bet you don't know about me: I have a numb thumb tip! Yep, it went numb a couple years ago when I was crippled (crippled!!) by a herniated disk in my neck. Apparently, the nerve can be so pinched, it cuts off feeling to the extremities. And guess what? Though the neck's fine now, that thumb never came back! Weird, eh?

Observation: Are they handing out those white "I'm blind so watch out" canes to everyone now? I swear, I've seen more people using those in the last two weeks than I've seen in my entire life! Last week I was almost smacked in the ankles with one. I felt sort of awkward because I assumed the woman knew I was there and it was kind of puddle-y where we were and she seemed to not be sure of where she was going, so I asked if she was alright or needed any help (it sounds very unlike me to offer help, I know, but sometimes I find myself living my life as if there were 20/20 cameras set up around me just waiting till I pass up an opportunity to perform a civic duty. I once encountered a baby stroller alone at the mall...with a baby in it. I literally stopped and looked for the cameras. I feared that if I didn't do anything, Barbara Walters would pop out from behind the Cinnabon and say, "How could you just walk right by a helpless baby clearly left alone?" So I headed into the nearest store and said, "Uh, anyone leave a baby out there?" Turned out the mother also had a toddler she'd decided to chase after without the burden of the stroller. Sheesh.). Anyway, the blind woman I was talking about ages ago didn't want my stinkin' help, thanks! (Okay, she didn't say those words, but that's what they sounded like to me!)

Gripe: I love Grey's Anatomy, don't get me wrong, but are we really supposed to suspend enough disbelief to accept that a couple who just finds out that their 2-year-old has a brain disorder that requires surgery to remove half her brain will agree to said surgery that very afternoon? And that the surgeon is available to perform said surgery within the hour? I mean, really, come on!

Oooh, something I can't believe I forgot to mention on the day of: Did you guys celebrate 05/05/05?? I love when that happens! Except next year, when I'm vowing to stay in bed under the covers on 06/06/06. Am I wrong to assume at least one person will take that day as a sign to do something evil? Oh, shit, I shouldn't be giving you ideas! On 07/07/07, though, I'm going to Vegas. There couldn't be a luckier day, right? And no, I haven't planned anything for 08/08/08 yet. I'm not THAT anal. Shut up, I heard that.

It is not a comfort noise

How's this for lame? There are two shows at the Hollywood Bowl that N. and I want to go to in September (that's not the lame part). We heard that the Bowl box office was opening at 10 a.m. on Saturday, so we set the alarm and got our asses to the Bowl at exactly 10 a.m. Now, I really don't know what we were thinking would happen (well, I do: I pictured us pulling up into the lot, parking right in front of the box office, jumping out, getting our tickets, not paying the Ticketmaster fee, and driving away in time for a 10:30 breakfast) but it was utter chaos there. The minute we had the Bowl parking lot in sight, we knew we were in trouble. After we figured out where to park, we hauled ass up the hill and lo and behold, all of middle-aged Los Angeles was there, along with a crafts fair! There was an enormous line for wristbands, which you'd get and then wait for your number to be called. Meanwhile, I heard an old woman sitting in her own personal lounge chair say she'd been there since 6 a.m. and had number 60-something, but hadn't yet been called to buy her tickets. N. and I waited and got our wristbands: 567 & 568. A worker told us it might be four hours before they called our number. Uh, how was this supposed to be any fun? To make a long story short, we ended up going back home and ordering both concerts on Ticketmaster, the bastards. But, we got the seats we wanted and it took all of 5 minutes. Sheesh.

Then, in another bit of Saturday annoyance, we left a full two hours early for the Elton John concert we had tickets for that night at the Arrowhead Pond. We decided we'd eat something along the way or at the show. The freeway ride was okay, but once we got off at the appropriate exit, it took at least an hour to pull into a parking spot and start walking to the arena. By the time we got there, it was 8:15, 15 minutes after the start time on the tickets. Do you know that that bastard Sir Elton had started his show exactly on time?? Who does that? So it took a good 1/2 hour to shed the drive and parking frustration and to get into the groove of the show. Also because it took at least 1/2 hour into the show for him to play anything remotely recognizable to us. But when he did, it evolved into a pretty good show. It gets a "pretty good" but not "great" because he didn't do much other than play the songs on his piano, with little variation to the originals, except for Rocket Man, which, well, rocked. And there were more middle-aged women in one place than N. says he's ever seen. Plus, by the time it was around 9 p.m., we were both so starving, we were completely distracted. N. leaned over to me at one point to tell me of his "plan" for getting food after the show, which consisted of walking across the street to a restaurant we spied on the way in. Every college kid in Anaheim with a fake ID was in the place, a couple of them getting down and dirty with a make-out session right in N.'s eyeline. I eventually had to turn around and check it out myself. Yikes!

Meanwhile, I didn't want to forget the sentence that my English-limited apartment manager said, so I made it the title of the blog. He was referring to the sound my door was making everytime I closed it lately. Something about wood expanding in the weather and a screw rubbing the bottom of the door the wrong way. He noticed this when I slammed the thing in his presence one night after a particularly bad day and came to fix it for me, unrequested. I guess the noise was discomforting him.

How was your weekend?

Random pumpkins

Need. More. Lost! It's just not enough! And only three more!! Damn. I sure hope they don't make us wait till October for it to come back! Hey, don't forget to set the TiVo for 20/20's Lost show on Friday.

Random tidbit: N. told me that Oprah had a doctor on who described what your poo should sound like when it comes out (N. claims he knows this because he saw a clip on Jimmy Kimmel). I can't wait to watch it myself (yes, I get all the Oprahs on TiVo. Shut up.) because I just know I'm doing it all wrong. I won't go into it, but those of you who've known me long, know me well enough to not need me to go into it! One day I'll tell you about all the countries in which I've broken toilets.

Other random tidbit: I recently changed up my password, and damn if it isn't the most confusing bits of letters and numbers! I guess that's the point, but I stumble over that sucker every time. Once at an old job of mine, everyone was assigned a new password when the systems were reconfigured. Mine was "pumpkin." I can't even tell you how difficult that was for me. Try it: pumpkin. I bet you anything an "l" will show up there somewhere. Pumpkin plumkin pumplkin plkuknin. Seriously, that's me trying it. Pumplikn. Am I dyslexic?? Anyway, my new password is definitely not "pumpkin." (Got it right the first time there!)

Am I the only one who pictures authors typing the names they've chosen for their characters? Sometimes when I'm particularly enamored with a character name, I'll just picture the author typing it over and over as he/she wrote the book. Yeah, that's enough about that.

Speaking of remembering things, here's my public service announcement: If you're going to a wedding this month, take your suit into the cleaners soon. Just saying.

Take one down, pass it around

Ah, 4 a.m. There's nothing like stretching your Saturday to all hours of the morning to shorten your Sunday! Thanks to the ever-amusing party given by Eclektra and "KF," N. and I didn't roll out of bed till well after 1 p.m. this morning. Well, afternoon, really. Then we rolled ourselves into In & Out. Ah, burger breakfasts. Then we had to take a ride to N.'s house, where my car had spent the night even though we didn't. Talk about poor planning. I think we should realize by now that we don't take to long drives at 4 a.m. after much "celebrating."

I'm totally braindead now, though that bottle of wine is still sort of looking good to me! I might have a problem. Speaking of wine, it makes a great accompaniment to Star Wars Episode I. I actually stayed awake for the entire thing and didn't hate it!

Hey, did I mention that I'm tired? I keep writing things and erasing them, writing things and erasing them. Hangovers are not conducive to blog-writing. But, a good time was had by all and I consumed an ungodly amount of cheese. I was dipping cheese into other cheese at one point. According to my scale this morning, I ate two pounds of the stuff! I'm hoping that was just a result of drunken dehydration. It could also have something to do with the huge vats of ice cream I've been buying lately. Sugar-free or no, I guess consuming 14 servings in three sittings is a bad thing. I'm taking a break from the ice cream this week, you'll be happy to know (or not really care, but I'm telling you anyway).

Anyway, I wish I could regale you with some highlights of last night's sparkling conversations, but I'm afraid that much was lost in fuzzy hangover haze (not that I didn't have a fantastic time talking to you, if I talked to you. I think you know who you are.).