I knew you were crazy, just not THAT crazy.

You know those families where everyone's out of their mind but they're your family so you love them? Mine's not like that. - The Wedding Date

Okay, so I do still love my family. I think they're totally great and couldn't adore each and every one of them more if I tried. But (and there's always a but, isn't there?), about 50% of them are THAT kind of crazy.

A history of mental illness that, if written out, would be taller than I am floods both sides of my family. Ranging from alcoholism and drug addiction to schizophrenia and dementia back down to just plain white-trash, beating the crap out of your significant other while wearing a tight white t-shirt a la Street Car and drinking Natural Light.

Yeah, I'm abusive, but look how cute I am!

CG finally got a real peak inside the honest to God crazy in the family this weekend. I'm sure it was eye opening. I kept warning him, trying to tell stories, to lessen the blow that was sure to come, but I don't think he really believed until this weekend.

I won't go fully into it because, well, yet again these aren't really my stories to tell but it involved an AK-47, a video camera, a hoarder, an abusive spouse, a serial cheater, and a control freak. No one was harmed or had the potential to be harmed but uncomfortable silence was had by all.

This is what I would call a good weekend, a fun weekend. I had an absolute blast. It was, after all, my 25th birthday and I got an extra $20 out of participating in the crazy with a positive attitude.

If you pay me enough I'll pretend your shit don't stink, your kind of crazy is perfectly normal, and that I am totally okay with whatever screwed up thing you're participating in. I'm basically an emotional whore, I'll react however you want, for a price. It's a system that works well in my family.

Honestly, money isn't the currency I'm usually paid in to go along with familial delusion. What I get out of it is peace and a relatively detached emotional state that keeps my mental health in good standing.

Crazy is much more fun when viewed from the outside.

Now to add a disclaimer: While everything said here is absolutely true, it's all said with a smile and love. For all of the crazy in my family it's also filled with more than it's fair share of love, understanding, good will and most importantly growth. They are (with one or two exceptions) good people with amazing life stories, harrowing experiences, and hope for the future and themselves.

My grandmother is a perfect example of this. My mother's mother is an absolutely amazing woman. She used to race stock cars and motorcycles, drives a Mustang and just a year ago had a stroke while riding bitch on the back of a Harley. She tapped her husband around the middle, got him to pull over, laid on the grass, had the stroke, got back on the bike and had him drive to the hospital. She's a total bad ass and while things in her life are far from perfect she handles herself with grace and humor and never takes anything too seriously, even death.

She told me on Saturday that while she was lying on the side of the highway during the stroke, sure that she was facing death she thought to herself, "Jeanie, calm down, you were doing something you loved, something that you enjoyed, it's a beautiful day and you're going on a day that was good." "Then, of course, I didn't die, I was ready and nothing happened!"

So even though I'm sure to descend into crazy as I get older I'll have fun doing it.

Ac-cen-tuate the Positive

The last month has been pretty nasty for me. Lots of gross, sad things happening and it was all too easy for me to get lost in them and forget about the great things, the amazing things. Well my trip home this past weekend got me past a lot of that.

I'm not going to go into why I'm re-prioritizing because it's not my story to tell, but suffice it to say that the things that seemed so huge and scary just days ago have been made ludicrous. My problems are laughable and I've had a very good time the last two days doing just that.

So I've got some amazing, fantastic, unbelievably awesome news (at least for me). I mentioned earlier my possible trip across the pond to the U.K., it's now a total go. My middle sister, Meg, is already in Swansea doing a study abroad program at University. My youngest sister and I will be going over to see her on (or around) May 15.

This was all brought about by two fabulous ladies that have done more for us girls than anyone should, especially considering how terrible we are at keeping in contact with them. Our Fairy Godmothers have given us their hard won frequent flier miles.

Excuse me, I'm not sure if you heard me . . . WE'RE GOING TO FLY TO AND FROM LONDON FO' FREEZIE.

I'm going International bitches! It's Callie - the World Tour. I'm spending a week in England and Ireland with my fabulous sisters, doing fabulous things, seeing castles, going to the sea-side, and pretending to be posh.

I promise not to do a fake British accent, but I can't promise to stop being awesome.

I can feel the eye-rolls from you world travelers out there, but I'm pointedly ignoring you. I've never been farther than Canada and Mexico. I'm going to be taking a huge, international plane. I'm going to be jet-lagged. I'm going to see London, I'm going to meet the Queen (okay, maybe I'll just be a creep and tour her palace - OMG I'm going to be in a palace!!!), I'm going to make faces at the palace guard, I'm going to visit places where Jane Austin lived, I'm going to drink myself silly in an Irish pub, I'm going to get my picture taken on the bridge where The Quiet Man was filmed, I'm going to meet a handsome Irishman and have a torrid affair that will end after a drunken kiss when Meg pulls me off and reminds me about CG. I will then try to set up Meg with said Irishman because she needs to have little Irish-brogue-speaking babies.

Meanwhile, my youngest sister, Myme, will be singing Danny Boy with the best of them and will be asked to stay in Ireland to attend University there on a vocal scholarship and get her law degree in Dublin or some equally charming local.

Okay so the last bit, after the bridge from The Quiet Man will most likely not happen, but it's my dream sequence and I'll end it how I want.

So if any of you are "world travelers" yourself, hell, if you've ever looked through a book about England and thought, "well that would be neat to see" please feel free to give advice, or tell me about places of interest, things to do, foods to eat, beer to drink, or places to stay.

Thanks and YAY ME!!!!

Things I've Forgotten

My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"

I don't know.

I'm not sure where this entry is going.

I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.

I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.

I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.

I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.

I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.

There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.

I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.

The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.

The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.

It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.

So Weird

Sorry, there's no Fi here, or her crazy (apparently incest having) mother Mackenzie Phillips - too soon?!?

Seriously, that whole drama just terrifies and disgusts the crap out of me, poor Mac! So Weird was a completely epic television show though, I miss it.

/random blog-jack

Anyway, on to the original point of my post: Babies and the people who have them. A college friend just had her second. In fact a good portion of my friends and family have been popping them out left and right. I love babies, which probably comes as a shock to anyone who knew me in high school as I hated all children with a vengeance usually reserved for people who club baby seals.

As my cousins and friends start their families I do get that little tug from the center of my stomach, that want/need to make one of these myself. That "I need a baby" fever.

However, once that fog clears I just keep thinking that these people are my age or younger. How are they ready for kids? They're so young with so many other things that they could be experiencing sans all the kiddy crap they're now forced to tote around. I still feel so young, I know as a 17 year old I thought 24 was just about as old as you can get, but now, now I just feel like there's so much that I don't know.

I'm not in a place in my life where I'm even remotely ready for children, how can other women my age be? I see pictures of babies in incubators fresh from mommy's womb and wonder how they can be so ready.

I guess what I'm saying is that I love babies and one day I'd really like to have one of my own, but I don't understand how to be an adult, much less a parent. I still dance around my living room, build forts out of blankets, eat fudge-cicles, make snow angels, and I never make my bed. I think I'm way to childish to have a child of my own and I don't think I'll ever really grow up.

I still see the 12 year old with a tight ponytail, who reads smutty books under the covers late at night and locks herself in her room when she's angry. My mom had me when she was 23, did she still feel like a kid? Do I really have to grow up at some point and will I do it without even realizing it?

Happy New Year (2 Weeks Late)

So we leave Nashville and begin another 7 hour trip to our final destination, a cabin on the Smokey Mountains. CG continues to drive, I feel a little bad, but not bad enough to volunteer for the position. Meg plays more college rock, Myme and I play more Pokemon (I forgot how addictive that game is and I'm only a little ashamed of how much I enjoy it).

We get there and it's really just beautiful, the cabin is big and everything that could be made of wood was. There's a hot tub and a Foosball table, a lake and a gorgeous view. Honestly, I spend half of trip sick in bed, getting up occasionally to play pinochle or rummy or cuddle next to CG feeling sorry for myself. The other half was spent reading, playing more pinochle and rummy, and then going to a cave our last day there.

I know, I know, I was in the mountains I should have hiked, explored, seen the sites. You're right of course, but two things prevented that - 1. There were snow storms in the surrounding areas that closed pretty much everything and 2. I'm lazy and like to lay around doing nothing on my vacation. Don't judge me.

On the 30th some of Mom's friends from Alabama came over with REALLY good Mexican beer and nachos. I like Mom's friends a lot.

New Years Eve a few of us went out to dig up fireworks since FES is from Germany and they always do fireworks for the new year. They managed to find some and came home. That night Dad and Meg set them off, but they were nothing in comparison to our next door neighbors. These guys were drunk and had explosives the size that a small town would buy for the 4th of July. They were nicely drunk and still managed to get a few aimed right and when that happened the display was beautiful. However, I'd say at least 40% ended up hitting their deck, our deck, our house, other houses, or a person. The next day we found our vacation agreement with the people we rented the house from, it explicitly said no fireworks - woops.

So that last full day at the cabin CG, Dad, Grandpa, Meg, and I squeeze into a car, and head down the mountain to a cavern, one of the few things that remained open and snow free. I adore caves, seriously, I'll drive hours to walk around in one. First glance this thing looked shady and we weren't sure it would be worth it. We went anyway, and it was totally worth it.

The caverns were beautiful and our tour guide was epic. He was the most useless human being I've ever met in my life, he ruined the endings to 3 movies, talked about his girlfriend's 25 pound 16 month baby, showed us parts of the cave that looked like sexual organs (Grandpa was RIGHT THERE), and was just generally the negative southern stereo type that I know to be false for the bulk of the population. He provided wonderful conversation for the ride home until Dad was pulled over and given a speeding ticket by a county mounty. Then we talked about that.

Our trip home was much the same, CG driving, Meg and her music, Myme and I reading Dean Koontz and Laurel Hamilton respectively (don't judge us, it's vacation we can read trash if we want).

After Christmas Special

So the day after Christmas we left for our big trip to Tennesse and the beautiful Smokey Mountains. We took two cars down, with 8 people, we kind of had to. My parents, grandpa, FES, CG, and my sisters and I fill up a car pretty fast, and that's without suitcases.

CG managed to get stuck with driving my car. Since the man is 6'6 on a short day and shaped like a capital T, it was really an act of mercy, he would have been very unhappy in the back with his chin on his knees and his shoulders shoved into the person next to him. Meg got the passenger seat as she's a very vomit-y type of girl. Me and Myme took the back. That left Dad to drive the other car, with FES riding shotgun since she gets sick on car trips as well, and Mom and Granddad in the back.

We definitely had the cool car, our 7 hour trip consisted mostly of Meg playing angry college music and Myme and I playing Pokemon on my Gameboy Color (with Pikachu emblazoned on the front screen) and SP respectively - shout out to the old school homies.

We headed to Nashville first to stay at the Opry Hotel, which is super-duper fabulous. It's an indoor botanical garden of awesome. We had good pizza, got a little grumpy, and went back to our rooms where I watched a show about some very cute beavers (get your mind out of the gutter, these were for-real beavers) and wanted to watch a show about an exploding wale in Japan but couldn't because my sisters wanted to sleep (jerks).

Mea Culpa

So, I went back to the family farm for Christmas like I do every year. It was super fantastic, no fights, very little yelling, and lots of great watery smiles. We went to my Dad's family Christmas on Christmas Eve where we got to see my aunt's new boobs for the first time. They were very nice looking, although I couldn't look at them straight on, staring at a family member's boobs is like looking at an eclipse, they should never be viewed full on.

A fabby time was had by all, although I have to admit I was a little sad that we didn't make it to the Christmas light display in the city this year. We did, however, find a ridiculously decorated house a few blocks from church after Christmas Eve services.

To derail wildly from the original topic: I'm not a huge fan of my parents church, just a lot of personal issues: the new pastor is kind of an ass. He decided that the church needed one of those swinging incense thingies that Catholics have (my family is Missouri-Synod Lutheran). The first time he used it he accidentally smoked the entire congregation - none of them were very forgiving and when he overloaded it a bit the next service you could feel the eye rolling going on. A guy I've spoken to maybe twice since he started coming tapped me on the shoulder and told me loudly during the sermon how ridiculous it was. Lutherans DO NOT talk or make noise during service (which is why I was always a terrible member).

This is probably not amusing to anyone else, but I giggle a bit every time I think of that 20 something pompous wind-bag choking on his own incense. I'm obviously a terrible person.

Okay, back on track: Christmas day was great, lots of good fun that is funny and all that. I got Dad an MP3 player already loaded with songs, however, once it was plugged into my sisters laptop to play on speakers it automatically downloaded her songs and deleted mine. So now Dad has the Spice Girls and other pop music phenoms from the 90's. He's a little less than thrilled about that.

Our big gift was the trip to the mountains that we left for the following day.

Family Christmas Parties

Let's discuss Family Christmas first.

If you have a small family, a Family Christmas (yes both words MUST be capitalized) may not terrify you the way it does me. If you are one of the lucky few with 10 or less people in your family in three generations . . . well, I hate you, I guess.

For the rest of us here's what we have to look forward to:

- As many as 4 or 5 Family Christmas
- Travel on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day
- Fights
- Double booking parties
- Fights about double bookings
- Awkward gift exchanges
- Sharing
- Aunts who smell and want hugs
- Lipstick prints from aforementioned aunts
- Offensive jokes from uncles
- Cousins you hate
- Fights
- Christmas Mass with the entire family

Here are the unspoken rules for the many family gatherings you'll have during Christmas:

1. DO NOT under any circumstances mention any of the following:

your uncle's recent trip to the Betty,

your great aunts funeral and who did and did not show up

your younger cousin's possible mental illness and/or serial killer in-the-making tendencies

the recent release of your grandfather from prison and the "new friends" he made while there

the current living arrangements for half of your family

the money that your older brother owes you from that drug deal that went south on him two years ago

your mother's latest and greatest nervous breakdown

2. DO NOT comment on a new photo, painting, statuary unless you are prepared to listen to a story that goes on for 30 minutes and provides nothing of value or interest.

3. Just give in and play Carrom, Super Smash Bros, Slap Jack, or Catch Phrase with your younger cousins. You know you'll have to at some point, just remember to protect your knuckles in Carrom, shield your face if you win at Smash, wear gloves during Slap Jack, and keep it clean in Catch Phrase

4. Have some pie, even if you don't like it, you have to have at least one piece unless you want your Great Aunt Mona to cry, do you want her to cry, why do you hate her pie, WHY DO YOU HATE HER?????

5. Fall asleep early and often on the nearest couch. Yes people will make jokes about it the rest of the year, however, you get out of talking to people, cleaning up, don't have to give up your seat, AND you get rest and relaxation. If you find you can't fall asleep surrounded by 30 people, just pretend, start writing your next novel in your head or something. Get creative.

6. If you are relegated to the cold floor out of respect or fear of your elders make sure your placement is no where near someone over the age of 60. This is not ageism, it is merely self-preservation. These people have just finished a very large, very gaseous meal, they are old, they aren't able to hold in their emissions, even if they could they wouldn't. They're old, they'll do what they want. Stay up wind.

7. Enjoy the kiddie table. Yes you're sitting in the coldest room in the house, at the smallest table, in the worst chairs, with the messiest eaters, so what. Treasure this time, because if you ever do move up to the adult table you'll just have awkward conversations, be forced to look at pictures of children and grandchildren who "couldn't make it but wished they were here", and pretending you can't smell the caster oil and hemorrhoid creme seeping from the red hat lady sitting beside you.

8. Be vicious during the gift exchange. It's called Rob Your Neighbor for a a reason. Don't be afraid to do it, it's the only revenge you're allowed to take for the trauma you're enduring. Take that silly putty from the 7 year old, steal that antique ironing board from your newly married and moved cousin, but stay away from anything in a bag if you pick from the pile, wrapping paper is your only smart choice. Unless it feels like books, the books are ALWAYS bad.

9. If you're already the favorite of a certain relative make sure to hang out as much as possible with that person. It never hurts to reinforce how awesome you are. Sure it may not result in any physical gain, but you can lord it over all the other family members your age. If you aren't anyone's favorite find the meanest most senile one and take turns tossing zingers at each other. It's fun for you and them, plus if you say something too mean they'll forget later.

10. Finally, enjoy everything about it. Sure, you're family isn't all sunshine and roses, but no one's is. This family is yours though and that makes it better. If you get frustrated, bored, insulted, or hurt just take a step back and look at it from an outsiders perspective. It's fucking funny, don't even pretend it isn't.

Ahh Family.

More Christmas Past

My Senior year of high school was the first time I was ever able to afford to buy gifts for others.

Honestly that's what changed my whole Christmas experience. All the fun came back. I was finally able to treasure the gifts I got because I realized how much thought, time, and care went in to picking them out, because I had spent months doing the same for them. Every gift was precious because it was from them, because all they wanted to do was make me happy. Put that smile on my face, you know the one, the one that comes along when someone finds you that perfect gift. That gift that you didn't even know you wanted. That something that proved that they knew you so perfectly and cared about you so much.

That's my goal with Christmas every year, finding something that gives them that smile. I don't manage it every year, but I see it enough to keep me going.

So that's my Christmas Secret. Why I love Christmas so much, why I start listening to Christmas music on December 1st and keep listening until it goes off the air. Why I want to spend every spare moment with the ones I love. Why I love wrapping presents with expensive and beautiful wrapping paper. Why I write Christmas cards every year. Why it's hard to frown in December.

It's just around the corner. Spread the Christmas Love.

Christmas

I know, I know, it's still to early to do a Christmas post. I'm going to do one any way.


I used to be a real Grinch during the Christmas season. I remember in Middle School how much I hated what I considered a pale imitation of a pagan festival put on by Hallmark. Still, as Christmas got closer I'd get a childlike joy that I worked hard to squash into a tiny, bitter, little ball by Christmas Eve. I'd sit through Christmas services at church with a smirk on my face, attend my Great-Aunts Christmas Eve Party with an eye roll and a plead for my parents to let us leave in an hour. After the party we would always drive around looking at Christmas lights, I would pretend I was asleep in the car. We'd get home and Mom would make us change into the most horrific matching Christmas pajamas in the world. My sisters and I would dutifully put them on and go to bed.

The next morning we would all wait for our Grandparents to arrive, open our presents and after everything was open a terrible, awful, hateful thought would run through my mind: Is this it? Even as a preteen monster I felt awful for feeling that way. I couldn't figure out what I was missing, why Christmas stopped being fun, why I wasn't happy or excited for it any more.

It wasn't even about not getting what I wanted for Christmas, my parents always pulled out all the stops and I'll be the first to admit that my sisters and I were incredibly blessed and even spoiled by them during Christmas. It was something that I couldn't understand. Why was Christmas always such a huge build up and then such a huge letdown?

I felt that way until my Senior year of High School.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

Thanksgiving is upon us woot, yay, huzzah and all that. While I desperately love any holiday that allows me to have two pieces of pie without a dirty look, I'm not super excited about it. What I am SUPER excited about is after Thanksgiving. CG and his family are coming down on Friday and will be spending the weekend with us. FES's (I think I've talked about FES on here before, maybe, anyway our Foreign Exchange Student from Germany) uncle and brother will be coming in as well. Our house will be absolutely packed, which means that my sisters and I get to stay at Grandpa's house.

I haven't spent the night at Grandpa's house since Memaw died, at first because it was too painful to even go inside the house where I spent most of my childhood, then later because it was too painful watching Grandpa making the house into a shrine to her. Over the last year things have gotten better for him, which we are all very grateful for. The house, while still featuring an alter of sorts on the kitchen island devoted to Memaw, has changed, it's easier to go inside and spend time there, finally.

So all of us girls will be spending our nights at Grandpa's again, on that big white feather comforter, in the middle of the floor of the living room, in front of the old console tv, maybe we'll even watch old cartoons, just like we used to when Memaw was around. I think we're all looking forward to it, things like this bring back so many good memories and when we can create new memories from the old, knowing that Grandpa is sleeping alone in his bed doesn't feel so terrible.

So this Thanksgiving I'm grateful for the ability to move on. Terrible, tragic things happen, things that we're sure we'll never be able to move on from, to get over. But we do, that's what's so amazing about the human race: our ability to hope, grow, learn, get better.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, safe travels, and be well.

Hate

I've been thinking about hate a lot recently. When I was young my sisters and I used to scream our hatred of each other for everyone to hear when we got mad. Just the word hate would send mom careening down the hallway towards us like a bullet. She'd lean down, look into our faces and say, "we don't hate in this house, we don't say that word, you DO NOT hate. You may not like someone, but you never hate."

I don't think any of us girls got it back then. I "hated" everything, my sisters, boys, math, science, that bitch who betrayed me in theatre, red lights, and getting my picture taken.

The hate of a teenager is a massive and fluid thing. That's the type of hate that isn't hate at all. It's testing boundaries, trying to control your hormones and wondering just what the fuck happened to make you such a basket case.

As I get older mom's words make more and more sense. I've never really hated anyone or anything. Not in a lasting way. There's only one time in my life that I think I experienced hate as a real emotion and with a few years and a lot of growing it's disappeared.

Lasting hate, irrational hate, the hate that leads to violence I've never felt nor understood. I'm glad. I can't imagine carrying that around with me.

Mom's a wise woman.

We don't hate in this house.

You may not like someone, but you never hate.

After getting that lecture from Mom my sisters and I would look at each other, stick out our tongues and say, "I really, really dislike you."

We were so sweet.

The End of an Era?

I went to a wedding over the weekend and it was just wonderful. As a general rule I'm not a fan of other people's weddings. I usually find them boring and pointless. The only exception to this rule is close family.

With close family I have no problem acting like a moron out on the dance floor, am usually very familiar with the venue because I've spent the entire day setting up, I've got tons of people I can talk to, and I can get the bride and groom whatever gift I want because I'm family god-damn it and I don't have to look at their registry if I don't want to.

This one was good, besides all of the aforementioned perks my cousin's band played and my cousin-in-laws father was the DJ. I also learned the Cupid Shuffle, got alcohol spit on me on the dance floor, colored a Strawberry Shortcake picture, kept the fondue table going, and had some of my aunts famous pickles (they were delicious as usual).

I got some other amazing wedding news yesterday. A very close, very good friend of mine from college is getting married on Friday. It's very small, very quiet, and at the courthouse. She doesn't want any presents, any cards, or any hoopla. She's honestly the last girl I expected to get married, just because she's always said that she wouldn't.

I'm glad that she's getting married the way that she is. I figured she and her SO would marry at some point and if they did I figured it would be very small and quiet. I also have to admit that I wondered from time to time if they weren't married already and just not telling anyone. It just makes sense from a financial and health coverage perspective.

So yay for them as well! There are weddings everywhere. That means only 1 college girlfriend, 3 high school girlfriends, and no family members (for the next few years at least), left unmarried.

They're closing ranks people. Fight the power! Or give in . . . you know, whichever you prefer.

Bachelorette Adventures Pt. 3

The final installment.

So we get back from the work out, eat some pizza, the bride-to-be opens her severely risque gifts, we drink some more and decide to go to a bar.

We start looking for a bar that is near the club we're going to later. We park and start walking down the street. At this point a scary old man comes out of a smoke filled bar and starts following us shouting, "You're whores, you're whores." At first we though he was saying, "You're home, you're home." But after he followed us into the bar still yelling "whores" at us we figured it out. He continued to hang around as we did shots, picked out music on the jukebox and generally ignored him.

At one point he cornered the bride-to-be and started talking to her about romantic songs and how soon she was getting married. I went over and not so subtly turned my back on him, cutting off his view of her and the conversation.

We hung out there for a while, played some pool, took some dares which involved me doing a short version of our lap dance in the middle of the bar, my sister asking for a random guys number, the future SIL asking a guy for change for the condom machine and another guys sock. We also danced around to a Hairspray song. I'm sure the regulars at the bar just loved us. *insert eyeroll here*

From there we went to the club, most of the party got lost on the way there so SIL and I headed in and hung out until they showed up. It was another hour until the guys joined us and we all proceeded to drink, dance, sing along, and have a generally awesome time.

Towards the end of the night the DJ put on Birthday Sex and SIL and the bride-to-be did a lap dance for some random guy and the groom. I took lots of pictures and was very grateful that CG was around as a convenient excuse for me to not shake my ass and hump a chair in front of about 200 people.

My youngest sister, a fresh faced 18 year old came very close to accidentally dirty dancing with a drunk 40 year old. How can you accidentally dirty dance you ask? I'll tell you how, some creepy as hell, drunk ass comes up behind you gyrating and taking his shirt off. I have to admit here that I was more than a little tipsy. I got up of the bar stool crossed the dance floor gave the creep my most hateful look and drug my sister up to the front and away from Creepy McPedophile.

We left soon after. It was totally awesome and on the way home there was much slurred singing and chest thrusting.

Sometimes (most times) being female is the greatest thing ever.

Bachelorette Adventures Pt. 2

So we get down to business and strippercise our little black hearts out. It's completely hilarious and a lot less uncomfortable and weird than you'd think. I mean it's cousins, aunts, mothers, in there together, giving lap dances to empty chairs and hanging from poles.

Our first 45 minutes was the lap dance. We did it to this song:



(Birthday Sex by Jeremiah)

If you listen to the song you can totally tell where the butt shaking/boob gyrating/humping sections happen. I was actually grateful to be in the front row because that meant that I didn't have to watch everyone else. Every time I picture my mother vibrating on top of a chair to "it's your birthday and I know you want to riiii-iii-iii-ide" I get a little queasy.

Then came the pole dancing lessons. Most everyone failed epically at this, which made me feel much better about not being able to hold onto the pole for more than a few seconds. It became glaringly obvious to me that I would never be a professional pole dancer. Those girls have some serious upper body strength and I salute them for their dedication to sexiness.

We all took away some valuable dance skills that we used for the rest of the night. There's the chest push-hand cover, the floor hump, the crazy leg (not to be confused with the stanky leg, which is apparently also a dance move), and of course the body roll.

On the trip home the bride-to-be decided that we should all do the lap dance at the club we were going to later. All of the younger girls were really excited about it.

I was less than thrilled.

Bachelorette Adventures

So I had a complete and total blast this past weekend. I can't remember a weekend that's been so amazing.

It started with the boys getting ready for their paintball extravaganza. They were all completely dorky and adorable. CG even wore a do-rag. AH-MAY-ZING. My father was dressed from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes in camo, the groom was wearing shorts, fuzzy wool socks pulled up to his knees and tennis shoes, my cousins looked normal, and my uncle was wearing a bright orange camo floppy hat. They looked fabulous. They apparently had a fabulous time with lots of shooting, falling, John Wayne moments, and bluff calling. Most of them ended up with some serious bruising.

Us girls went to my aunts house to start our adventure. Before we got there I tied one on for the road. If I'm going to drink I do the damn thing right. We get to my Aunts and start drinking some more, listen to music and plan for the epic-ness that will be strippercise.

We load up and head out. I'm already a teeny bit tipsy. We're all in high heels and sweat pants walking through downtown. We run across a quickly changing crosswalk. One of my hooker heels gets caught in between the bricks in the crosswalk. I start to fall, I continue to fall as I take 4 more steps. I face plant in the middle of the crosswalk, downtown, at 2 in the afternoon. It's amazing and was apparently very graceful.

We finally get to the center and head inside. It's then that I realize I'm bleeding on both knees. It hurts, like a lot, and I'll be spending the next hour or so on them. I'm very grateful for the pre-sexay dance drinks and brace myself for what's to come.

To Be Continued

Busy is just an excuse.

But seriously, I have been crazy busy at work and at home. Hopefully next week I'll have some good stories about it all.

This weekend I'll be going to my cousin's bachelorette party. We're going to strippercise. All of the females in my family. Sexy Dancing. Awesome.


While I was typing this the CEO of our company came in, looked me in the eye, took my Rubix cube off my desk, and walked away. WTH?!?


Seriously people I can't make this shit up.