These past few days have been weird. I mean, really not all that weird, but they’ve had their moments. And by weird I really mean I have a few random stories to bore you with from my weekend and the beginning of the work week.
Yeah, it’s really nothing interesting at all now that I think about it. I’m just a little bored, so I thought I’d share.
Ok, so on Friday, Clayton and I drove home again, which is really starting to cost me an arm and a leg. (I don’t know where that expression came from, because if it has any truth to it, I don’t know who would be in the market for used arms and legs?) Gas is expensive, and so is wedding planning. And I guess so are weddings. Well, we didn’t do anything on Friday evening. I think we watched some Everybody Loves Raymond with my parents and Clayton fell asleep on the chair in the fetal position. The chair couldn’t be comfortable for anybody, you know what I mean if you’ve seen it, so I’ve determined he has minor narcolepsy.
Saturday morning I took the girls (meaning Allie, Stephanie, and my mom) to go try on bridesmaids dresses (meaning walk through the mall and make fun of Macy’s formal sales rack). I think we tried on two in all at one bridal shop. The problem is I’ve known since I was negative 3 months old exactly what I want my wedding to look like. You think that’s not a problem, that that’s a good thing? Well, I think so too, except some people think that takes all of the fun out of shopping and planning, namely my mom. Sorry mom, I think I thought it was fun at negative 3 months and now I’m all used up. Just kidding, I could never be all used up for wedding shopping, or any kind of shopping really. I’m just a girl who knows what she wants, now ain’t that right Mr. Clayton Messinger??
We laid out on Saturday. Nothing like spraying on a little tanning oil and praying that I will only receive the good, healthy sun rays and that God would thwart the carcinogenic ones from my path. What can I say, lying motionless by my pool with my favorite girls while we drip with sweat and fry our skin is one of the most deep and sacred forms of fellowship. And it makes my skin glow and temporarily hides the cellulite.
Clayton and I had a hot date on Saturday night. Anamia’s on the parentals= yummy table-side guacamole. Mmm. Then I forced sweetly asked Clayton to take me to Southlake Town Square so I could tearfully pour over Anthropologie for a half hour as he gives my hand spankings when I touch items over $50. Which is no fun, because that’s everything. I can’t touch. This is true love- both the hand spankings and the fact that he takes me to my own form of self-torture. One day we will be filthy rich, right sweetie? I can just see us now- jumping on a mattress tossing (hundred) dollar bills in the air in a room filled with gold and money stacks , laughing giddily. I have a very strange imagination on what it must be like to be rich.
We got to see Emily on Saturday night- what a sweet surprise! It has been almost a lifetime since I’ve last seen her. She is doing well, in case you were wondering. And she is as pretty as ever.
I went to Gateway World with Clayton and Mama and Sister Messinger on Sunday morning. ‘Twas my first time in the new sanctuary, and it was really spectacular, both the building and the worship and message. I only got lost 5 times. No, I didn’t, Clayton made me hold his hand the whole way and said I couldn’t have a lollipop until after lunch or I’d spoil my appetite. (I don’t know why I keep wanting you to imagine him as my father- that’s very weird).
Drove back to College Station= my most depressing moment each week in the summer. Do you know how hard it is to leave your mother and sister to lay by the pool every day to get tanner than you, getting to do interpretive dancing and watch birds and document their weekly nail colors by camera and be waited on by the neighborhood cabana boy? (I swear, I only made up the cabana boy that time.) It’s hard, my friends, very hard. Watching the Mavs lose with only Monday morning ahead- well, that’s just adding insult to injury.
Well, Monday morning came whether I liked it or not. (I didn’t, just for the record.) It was hard, I had to spend my whole lunch break at the post office to order my passport. My stomach was rumbling, that was the hardest part of all. That, or when the post office man asked me where I was going. I said, “On my honeymoon, in January.” He said, “That’s nice- but where?” I just looked at him. I don’t know yet. And then I said, “Oooh, Jamaica sounds nice, doesn’t it?” *insert little Jamaica jig that I did* Then it was his turn to look at me. “Is that actually where you’re going?” “It is now!” So my passport now reads: Countries Visited: Jamaica.
Ok, this is where things got weird (not really, I just wanted to say that). It started to get all dark and rain cloud-y outside, and when I got home from the gym, my power was out. I think lightning hit something. On Bachelorette night, that can only mean one thing- Thor hates me. That, or Hestia (Greek god of food, Wiki that mother) loves me. Because Ozona’s Chicken Sandwich and sweet potato fries were calling my name, and Clayton couldn’t make me stay at home and eat free food because his power was out, too, so there, I win. (Again, with the dad thing…)
Well, the new-age Tivo gods were certainly doing their part, because all but 20 minutes of the Bachelorette got recorded. WIN! Paige came over and we watched the ridiculousness unfold. Bentley is a total tool, nope he’s the whole shed. And he’s also a paid actor by ABC. If you don’t believe that, you are probably naïve because drama is good for the business.
I found out this morning that my wedding dress came in. Which means two things- one, it’s going to be a happy weekend picking up the dress I’m going to walk down the aisle in to have and to hold in my sweet little hands; and two, the sales rep is a total liar. She said it would come in October at the earliest. I don’t know how you mess up 6 months and 3 weeks, but ok yeah, I can see that, you probably could. No way was she just trying to use scare tactics to get me to buy that dress on the spot. But all crazy antics aside, I’m not mad because I’m the one that gets to wear a Vera Wang Lite on my wedding day. I’m sure Hymenaeus (god of weddings) will take care of her wedding day.
Book club is tomorrow and I am only about 2/3 done with my book. If it took me a month to get this far, I really worry for these next 24 hours. I just didn’t get into the story. I’ve learned a lot, but that’s not usually why I read, so that stinks. Plus, the Mavs have a crucial must-win Game 4, and odds are that’s going to come first. Goodness, my parents really made me a cultured woman. I prefer professional sports over historical documentaries 999 out of 1,000 times. Sorry Book Club ladies, I promise I’ll try.
I need to shop. Right now. But my passport cost almost as much as our honeymoon will (no it didn’t) and there’s other more important things like food and shelter to think about (I’m really not that poor) and I’m retroactively paying off my education that was useless (I guess that one’s still debatable). No, that’s just me being dramatic. I really can shop, I just don’t have any good stores here in College Station and Clayton even slaps my hand when I try to purchase Anthro online and I’m scared.
I’m sorry, I keep lying about that, he’s never slapped my hand when shopping anywhere. Maybe I just need him to. Or I could just leave that to Argos (Greek god of shopping- except that was made up, admittedly, by Google, nonetheless).
No comments:
Post a Comment