OH MY GOD RAIN

Remember my mean post a while back to all of you that sent me floods and floods of emails about how I should blog about my wedding plans 24hrs a day and then I basically told you all to shut up and go to hell and that I would NEVER EVER blog about wedding plans well yeah...whatever.

When I happen to mention to those that ask that E and I are considering getting married in the park it doesn't matter who it is nor how cool they are but everyone says the same damn thing....WHAT IF IT RAINS????!!!!

OH MY GOD! RAIN! RAIN IS SO SCARY! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
IT'S RAINING! OH MY GOD! MUD! AND RAIN! AND WET GRASS!
WHAT THEN????? OH MY GOD!!!! RAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's not like we are planning a four hour affair here complete with hymnals and a lighting of the unity candle. We are talking a nice modest 20 minutes at most. Have you ever stood in the rain with an umbrella for twenty minutes? Were you ok?

Now that I think about it perhaps we should plan the whole thing around rain. Something involving me in a bikini coming down the aisle which is actually in the form of a bright yellow Slip N' Slide.

BIZARRE CONFESSION

When approaching a revolving door for some reason I feel the need to take a running start and triple my steps and inevitably dive into the revolving door in a very dramatic manner. I also am guilty of doing this when boarding an escalator.

BANNED: CANDY BAR COFFEE

What’s the deal with all you fake coffee drinkers? You know who you are. The kind of people that order those disgusting coffees with like…butterscotch sauce and maraschino cherries and crushed walnuts on top. You are not drinking coffee when you order something like that you do realize that don’t you?

Every morning when I get to work I stand on the coffee line in a daze. I often tune out conversations around me and try desperately to wake up as I recount the except steps of how I got from my bed to this very office lobby. This morning was different. I couldn’t help but overhear the following conversation:

(Note-this is a regular coffee stand-not a Starbucks)

Coffee Guy: Hi, what can I get for you?
Customer Girl: Yes, I’d like a small, skim iced Snickers please.
Coffee Guy: Ok. Coming right up.

Coffee Guy: Hi, how about you. What would you like?
Customer Guy: Ah…you know what. I’ll take a large iced Snickers please.
Coffee Guy: No problem. Coming right up.

At this point I start to look around. Snickers coffee? I know I wasn't quite awake yet but what is going on here? Sure enough there on the blackboard as coffee of the day was written SNICKERS.

I mean really. What next people? The Kit Kat cappuccino?

FASHION BUG

I don’t really appreciate nor understand fashion to the degree most people do. It’s sort of the way I hear people talk about modern art and “not getting it”. Not in a bad way-just that I am often left puzzled and wondering why the hell I am supposed to spend $800 on a pair of shoes I will no doubt ruin in about twenty minutes.

My sister is a fashion diva. She LOVES clothes and knows clothes and has so many god damn clothes…it’s amazing. Unfortunately, her passion for fashion negates my theory that I am fashion retarded because of the mere fact I grew up on Long Island. After all while my cool ‘city’ friends were combing the racks of Benetton I was forced to shop at clothing stores bearing such names as “Fashion Bug”, “Dress Corral” and “Shirt Shack”.

One time my father took me into the city and we went to Antique Boutique –the old, cool one with mannequins hanging from the ceiling and silver spray painted walls and mirrored ramps. Pops bought me a $99 pink denim cropped jean jacket with like…10,000 pockets. For the time it was amazing. And don’t think I didn’t bust it out to the tune of Welcome to the Jungle at my next small town carnival.

Last night I have to confess to watching the final episode of fashion reality show “Project Runway”. I actually enjoyed it despite not having followed along all season. I think it was helpful to see the ‘behind the scenes’ of how a show is put a together. It flashed me back to the one and only fashion show that I attended and actually was in. At the time I was an intern for PAPER Magazine and one of their contacts-a skateboard/snowboard designer was launching a wacky fashion line. They needed ‘normal’ models to wear the clothes in an upcoming fashion show. Thanks to the lack of digital cameras in the day, I think it’s safe to say there is not a single digital photo of me in a plastic see-through blazer with a pink fur collar and a short-short leather mini-anywhere on the Internet. Then again…look what happened to Paris.

WHY YOU STICK TOGETHER

This weekend E and I decided to test our relationship endurance and explore the outlet mall near my hometown on Long Island. Nothing to really get the blood flowing like a few hundred stores full of pokey Americans stuffing their faces with Taco Bell and weeding through a bunch of discounted crap.

E wanted some pants and I wanted some underwear. Normally, this is a type of errand we’d handle individually without one another tagging along. In the entire history of our dating I can’t recall a single time we said, “Hey let’s go shopping! Together!” We were surrounded everywhere by couples that were shopping for hours together. And smiling. I felt like a foreigner in a strange land.

We started out strong we really did. A quick scan of the store, a nod yes or no if we thought it was worth going in and then off we would go to the next. This was a great method and worked for the first 75 stores however by store 475 both of us were tired, hungry and decided that ‘splitting up’ to save time might be a great idea. This was not a good idea. Without E’s support I was on my way to a fast downward spiral of shopping delusion. Take for example where he left me before splitting off-rummaging through the racks of the teenage clothing store Delia’s of all godforsaken places.

When E parted he uttered a phrase I hope to never hear cross his lips again, “I’ll be in Coach if you need me.” What happened to us? We were turning into scary, suburban mall shoppers. The moment he left I had a major What am I doing here??? reality check and quickly tossed down my pile of XXXXL sized “I heart the O.C.” T-shirts to go find him.

Unfortunately, almost simultaneously, E had a similar- What am I doing here??? moment and quickly threw down the leather Coach wallet in his hands and dashed back to Delia’s to find me. Two mall shopping cargo ships passing in the night.

After finally reuniting, we embraced and agreed it was time to go. E volunteered to go get the car while I waited outside Old Navy tapping my foot to “You Can Call Me Al” blasting from the mall stereo system.

E spun around the corner in my mother’s car and I got in:

K: You’re like my knight in a shining white suburban jeep.
E: I sure am.
K: Now let’s get the fuck out of here.