Holy Matri(hic)mony

What I do remember for certain is that Mel was giving her toast, thanking her parents for raising her well and supporting her through this beautiful day, when my hiccup reverberated off the marble floors in a moment of emotional silence.
It bounced to the top of the vaulted rotunda and boomeranged around the hall. When the hiccup returned to me, I buried my face in a napkin and kept my mouth closed for the remainder of the evening.
Congrats, Mel and Nick. When you get the wedding video back, just keep in mind that at least I didn't fart during the ceremony like a certain flower girl. I'm just saying.

What Would [Baby] Jesus Do?

As we head out for the holidays, I'd like to leave you with something inspirational I heard yesterday during a mediation between two young women. It really illuminates the beauty of Christmas. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about it:
"I'll straight up tell people if I don't like them. I mean, people are gonna like their friends, but people aren't gonna like other people."
Now I'm in the holiday spirit.
Let's talk shit behind each other's backs.
And to you, your Wassail, too.

One Hundred Percent of Your Daily Carbon, Chromium, Cobalt, Copper, Manganese, Molybdenum, Nickel...

Our landlord still stops by to finish things up. Apparently the last tenants were there for five years and she's gotten lonely for maintenance work. When I came home yesterday she was scraping paint off the windows. Hey, thanks. 'Preciate it. Ok. Go home. She left her supplies on the kitchen counter.
In case you were wondering about those razor blades next to my multivitamins.

Parking-Lot Edification

"Did you just say 'phallus'?"
"What? No; 'falons'."
"Oh. What?"
"You know, those things an owl has on their hands."
"Talons?"
"Oh....yes. What's a phallus?"
"Uh..."

CrockPot: The Chronicles

A few notes to the Future Me about the Present Me, Newly Urban Dweller:

• Matt says I can't call it "That Damn Toilet" until I've lived there for at least three months. Apparently the running toilet and I haven't had time to properly annoy each other.
• I made chili yesterday. "Made." Put a bag of chili mix in a pot with browned meat (What an adult am I? I brown meat instead of eating it raw.) Added tomato paste and chili beans. Burnt in crock pot overnight.
  
• Bought a bed with a wheely frame. Chased it my wooden-floored bedroom trying to put on sheets.
• We don't have a couch or a DVD player or cable or internet access yet. So we don't go into the living room.

The Pictures in My Mind Are Worth a Thousand Words

I'm documenting it here because I don't want her to forget the school bus that took us from one empty bar to another in search of people who would play her music (a 10-track cd; each track the same song: "Ladies Night"). Or the way the bouncer dipped her at the Corner Bar before she gave the blonde girl a lapdance.
Mel didn't hit her head on the karaoke machine at 1029 Club and get retrograde amnesia. Phew.
But if she had, she might have thought:
How did I get here? What is that sash on my shoulder? What is that purplewhiteball in my field of vision and why can't I grab it? Why is everyone looking at me?
And the answers would have been:
Big yellow bus. Suck for a buck.* Camera flashbulb leftovers. I'm dancing to the smooth sounds of a DiVinyl's classic while my friends sing because I can't read the prompter right now...Wait, are there two prompters?

*Cringe. I freaking hate this game.

I Get Misty

And now for my last night on Naomi Drive, a toast to the two best parent/roommates a girl could have:
Here's to the people who let me overstay my post-college welcome by a year-and-a-half; who never called the cops when I forgot a key and had to break in; who never made me clean my room because theirs looked worse; who burn bacon every Sunday, but dammit-that-bacon-was-free-food-and-uh-ooh-
somebody-please-turn-on-the-fan!; who laugh when I call the house phone from my cellphone in bed because I need some advice on which pillow positioning will stop the coughing; who don't charge rent; who tape your shows.
Who teach you to fish.
Thanks, Homies. I love you. And seriously, Mom, I won't be far.

Things Take a Turn for the Violent

For the heartless Schadenfreude out there:
Student Council is torturing us with mmmBop until the toy drive is complete. They play it during passing time all day, every day. The worst part? They're not the first ones to think of it. You want aversive therapy? Come over here, Little Billy. I'm going to pelt you with rocks until you stop screaming. Time for a visual aid!

Take out a piece of paper. Draw a circle. On one side of the circle write "Screaming." On the opposite side, write "Rocks." Make little arrow tops along the circle, all facing the same direction to show motion in a clockwise fashion.
There you have The Vicious Cycle.

Live Auction

She was so sweet and sedate. Soft. Cute. I held her for a while.
If she hadn't cost so much, I probably would have taken her home.
In reality, I don't have space. And I haven't asked my new roommate about it at all. It would be an awkward phone call to make. Hi, Nicki. Yep, it'll be us, plus one, and Lucy can't pay rent. Just try to say no to this face. Nicki? Hello?
When it was time to leave, our hosts named us Lucy's Dog Godparents. Either they really respect us or they didn't want to pry my fingers from her polka dot collar in public.

Christians Gone Wild

First, I dressed as Santa. Then, I hugged the Priest.
Big ups to Father Greg who was surprisingly unawkward sitting on my lap.
Photo by Matt Blum