Saturday, January 29, 2011

I Miss Handsome.

Handsome is out of town this weekend, and I'm all on my lonesome in Austin. Boo. I am so wonewy.

He's off on his bachelor party weekend, and while I am aware that this is usually bad news (Vegas,  strippers, missing teeth, and tigers in the bathroom), I'm finding it hard to worry. He and his buddies are out at a remote cabin in the deep woods of east Texas, and I saw the packing list. It read like this:

1. Ice cream
2. Meat
3. BB guns
4. Walkie-Talkies
5. Water balloons
6. Whiskey
7. Firecrackers


On second thought, if he comes back with all his limbs intact, I'll count it a minor miracle.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Wedding Bangs

Hello, my poppets! Tick, tock, tick, tock, guess what's getting closer? Zat's rrrright, ze vedding deluxe grandioso y excelente! In these blustery days of Texas winter, Handsome and I have been busy planning away all the extra special things. Music, decorations, readings, special decorative flourishes, and more, and all on budget! The invitations are out, the RSVPs are pouring in, the caterer is standing by, the DJ is booked, Han's suit is perfection, my dress is at the tailor's getting perfectly shortened, flowers are under control, and the cupcake lady awaits our signal to commence a'baking. Our rehearsal dinner might be the most fun party ever in the history of parties (Texas-themed costume party!) and basically, I feel like a magic fairy just twinkled down from the heavens and tapped me with a sparkling wand of awesome. Have I really planned this all? Is it really going this well?

There is only one smudge, one slightly dark blip, on the Wedding Horizon of Bliss: the Amazing Cheastypants Hair has seen better days. Don't freak out, this isn't anything like living in Nicaragua, when the Amazing Cheastypants Hair was declared a Natural Disaster Area. It's fine, totally awesome, in comparison with that nightmare. It's just that... how do I say this? I have bangs.

The other night I went to my French Salon of Glorious Hair, where I frequently offer my services as a Hair Model. Normally, this situation is nothing short of fantastic. I pay $15 for a haircut that in the real world would cost around $100, and in exchange, I get amazing haircuts. Well, usually they're amazing haircuts. You see, sometimes they tend towards the trendy, and even the experimental. For example, I steered clear of the salon a few years ago when a few of my friends emerged with Euro-mullets and PTSD. But that phase passed, and I returned.

I don't even pay attention to what the stylist is doing to my head anymore, that's how reliably good these haircuts are. So last Tuesday when the lady described what she was going to give me, I vaguely registered her words (though I'm pretty sure I would have perked up and paid attention had she actually use the b-word), and blithely read my magazine, letting her snip away. Twenty minutes later I looked up, and I had bangs.


In all my 33 years, I have never, not once, not even remotely had bangs. In all honesty, I'd sort of assumed I would live my entire life without bangs. But now, 70-odd days before I am to be wed, and (more to the point) photographed ad nauseum, I find myself with bangs. BANGS!

I'm still deciding how I feel about it. On good days, I think I look sort of 80's chic. A cuter, flippier version of Ali Sheedy in the Breakfast Club. On bad days, there are no words. It's the curly hair, you see. If I don't blow dry it straight, the bangs look like curly fries stuck off the front of my head.

Grow, hair, I command you.


Monday, January 10, 2011

OMG. Home Owner?

Yes, you read that correctly. I, Amazing Cheastypants, teller of tales, trotter of globes, avoider of entangling commitments, am not only about to get married - a feat that causes a younger version of myself to fall in a dead faint to the floor - but I am 3 nanoseconds away from being a real-live, totally official homeowner. It's a little run-down, it needs a lot of loving, but it's bright blue, in the best neighborhood in Austin, and I get to live in it with my ineffably gorgeous Love Muffin, Mr. Amazing Handsomepants. I die with delight.

Before I dance and laugh and squeal my way through the next few months of my life, however, I feel that right now I ought to pause for a brief moment of silence in remembrance of the girl I used to be. A woman who wondered if partnering up for life was really worth it. A woman who started to get itchy feet if she stayed in any one place longer than 6 months. Not that I'd trade in all the experiences those itchy feet got me into, but really, Younger Me. You were missing out.

To infinity, and beyooooooooonnnnnnnd!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Wedding Whack-A-Mole

I generally consider myself a competent person, a capable multi-tasker, an able manager of tasks. I am famously brilliant, unspeakably gorgeous, and ineffably glamorous. My wit dazzles, my cup of sparkles runneth over. My acres and acres of beautiful hair bounce and shine and flow about me wherever I go. One would think that with this constellation of blessings bestowed upon me, I might glide jauntily through life with nary a hiccup. And yet I am nearly defeated. This wedding-planning-hydra-headed nonsense might well kill me.

Now don't get me wrong - I am thrilled to be getting married. Beyond thrilled, actually. Transported. I am going to spend the rest of my life married to the best human being God ever put on the earth, and I occasionally pinch myself ferociously to make sure this isn't all just a lovely dream. So the wedding? Very much looking forward to that. The wedding planning, on the other hand... well.

Let's just say that now I understand why some people make this a full-time job. You take one question. As an example, let's take cake. Simple, no? No. Not simple at all, because for every question you answer, every conclusion you reach, 25 more pop up to take its place. You don't believe me? Watch.

Question 1: Do we want a wedding cake.
Answer 1: Yes.
Question 2: Or pie?
Question 3: What about cupcakes?

Question 4: How much does cake cost?
Answer: (75,000 phone calls and one dead faint later) Okay, so no cake.

Question 5: Now what?

[Insert four hours of internet research, 16 phone calls, 39 emails, 2 hours of recipe research, debilitating mental calculations, advanced maths, aimless puttering.]

Answer: Cupcakes. Genius!

Question 6: Who will make our cupcakes?
Question 7: What time can we meet the different bakers who want to make our cupcakes?
Question 8: What about this time? No.
Question 9: How about Tuesday? No.
Question 10: Something came up, can we reschedule?
Question 11: Are we still on for today?
Question 12: Have I answered all of the 47 emails in my inbox all asking about cupcakes?
Question 13: What flavor cupcakes do we want?
Question 14: Oh, some people feel really strongly about white cake? But I hate white cake. Now what.
Question 15: Oh, there are actually 92 different flavors of cupcake we could order?
Question 16: Which of the 92 flavors of cupcake do we really want to sample?
Question 17: Which of the 8 different flavors we sampled do we actually want to order?
Question 18: How do you feel about carrot cake? How do you feel about carrot cake?
Question 19: Buttercream or cream cheese icing?
Question 20: Do we still want to do a cake-cutting ceremony, because then we'd still need a cake.
Question 21: How much does a small cake for a cutting ceremony cost? (Gasp.)
Question 22: So I will make my own small cake?
Question 23: Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines, or The Joy of Cooking?
Question 24: How much time will I have to bake a cake the day before our wedding?
Question 25: Oh, you have a friend who wants to bake our cake for us?
Question 26: Do you want to call her or should I?
Question 27: Did she call you back yet? How about now? Now? Yes?
Question 28: What flavor do we want the cutting cake to be?
Question 29: Do we have cake stands on which to put the cupcakes?
Question 30: Rent or buy? (Borrow!)
Question 31: Honey, the cupcake lady wants to know what color cupcake liners we want to use.
Question 32: Options? White, black, brown, pink, silver....

It's like playing gee-dee whack-a-mole. If anybody has a serious thought about what color liner to use, please tell me. I respond well to authoritarian dictates.