08.27.12

Monday Dare: Cake time, fuckers

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Act like a lady

You know that look you get when you ask the stranger waiting for her Cheddar Broccoli soup at Corner Bakery to hold your baby for thirty-seven seconds because you really need to pee, but you’re by yourself and you forget to bring the stroller, and it’s really hard to do your business with a baby in your arms? You knew it was a bad idea to leave the house in the first place, but goddammit, the house was starting to smell like rancid baby formula and you just needed to be around people who didn’t shit in their pants? And you know better than to leave the baby with a total stranger, but the thought of getting some alone time in a toilet stall really worked you over?

Well, that’s the look I get when I see a wedding invitation: a mixture of fear and “What the fuck is this bitch talking about?”

Weddings make me nervous. I don’t like them because there are all sorts of rules to follow. I can’t wear white because that’s reserved for the bride. I’m not allowed to swear. I can’t answer phone calls during the ceremony. I’m not allowed to open any of the presents because “they’re not for you, Elizabeth.”

I followed every rule during my brother’s wedding last Saturday, and I STILL got in trouble. Marshall and his bride had a beautiful ceremony followed by a buffet reception at a local church. Since my only ladylike dress is white, I donned the next best thing: a colorful number I wore during my BlogHer Voices of the Year speech a few weeks ago (The video is posted below). Yes, it may have been a little low-cut for a church wedding, but where in the rules does it say anything about low-cut? EXACTLY.

It was clear that my mother was not happy with my attire when I walked into the church, and she forcefully gripped by arm to take me aside. “I’m seeing an awful lots of boobs. This is a House of God.”

“Well, Ma, God made boobies,” I said. It’s hard to argue against that shit, no? I could tell she agreed because she refused to make eye contact with me for the rest of the day.

For five hours, I acted like a lady. I don’t want to brag or anything, but I was really good at it.

My brother and his wife had a photo booth during the reception. Each strip printed twice, one to keep and one to put into an album for the happy couple. After seeing my strip, my brother looked unhappy. “Did you just throw up a gang sign at my wedding?” (Gang sign picture posted on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page)

“Sheesh, Marshall, you didn’t say anything about signs. Just swearing.” It’s so fucking hard to win with this family. I just give and give and they take and take and take and take and take. Why are people so ungrateful?

One of my best friends is getting married this Saturday. On my 32nd birthday. I am a bridesmaid. This is probably where I should mention that I’ve never been a bridesmaid before. But, with the recent wedding practice I’ve had, I’m sure it’ll be smooth-sailing.

Funny wedding stories? Horror stories?
I haven’t gotten a gift for my homegirl yet. What’s the best wedding gift you’ve given or received?

(You can also access the video directly here. It doesn’t play on mobile devices. I’m too stupid to figure it out. Please love me anyway.)

P.S. Let’s get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. I’ll be posting real-time updates during the five-day wedding extravaganza weekend. Mostly though, I just need to be connected to y’all in case I find myself in a rough spot and need bail money.

image via blueq.com

August 27, 2012
08.06.12

Monday Dare: This is why we can’t have nice things

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn about its origin.

This week: Stop losing shit

Back in the day, when I only owned a bunch of cheap shit, I never lost anything. It was a point of pride for me. I wouldn’t shove my specialness in other people’s faces when they complained about losing another pair of sunglasses or their kid. I might say something like, “Oh man, that really blows. I don’t know what you’re going through because I’ve never lost anything before in my life, but I still really want to be friends with you because I choose to focus on the positives in people and not their faults.” I’m pretty good at building people up. It’s another one of my qualities.

Then, I started buying nicer things. Yes, it would be nice to scoop up a paisley print tote at the dollar store for a total investment of $1.09, but sometimes, I just need to be fucking reckless with my life. “Go ahead and buy a similar-looking tote at Target for $19.99. You DESERVE it,” I would tell myself.

And I insisted on a real diamond wedding band. I don’t know if you’ve ever checked out the impressive selection of moissanite rings at Kohl’s, but they really do have a diamond-like presence for a fraction of the cost. I gave this option some consideration, but then I remembered that diamonds are a thug’s best friend. I’m all about staying true to the game. It’s also another one of my qualities. I hope I’m not starting to sound too brag-y.

Harv insisted on insuring the diamond ring. He’s all about the “just in case.” It’s also why we have health insurance and not one, but THREE boxes of band-aids stashed around the house. You’re probably thinking that he wastes a lot of money. I happen to agree.

Maybe the Universe thought my specialness was really starting to bring other people down and devised a plan to level things out. And what better way to stick it to me than by losing my wedding ring in a Vegas nightclub. While sober. Did it fling off when I put my hands in the air and danced like I just don’t care? Did it fall to the floor as I was doing the Dougie? I have some pretty impressive dance moves, which is another one of my qualities, but let’s not focus on that right now. We’re trying to solve a mystery.

I searched in vain, crawling through a sea of hooker heels and Drakkar Noir. No luck. I finally admitted defeat and stepped outside to call Harv. After explaining the situation, I asked if it might still be okay to come home. I was prepared to start looking for a new place of residence. And because Harv’s best qualities are patience and forgiveness, he focused first on calming me down and then reminded me that the ring was insured.

I promised never to lose anything else again. He showed his faith by giving me a beautiful gold bracelet soon afterwards.

Which I lost this past weekend in New York.

I’m terrified of walking out of the house with anything of value now. I suppose I could staple shit to my body, but I’m afraid of pain. Does that make me a selfish person?

Do you lose things? What are some things you’ve lost?

P.S. I’ve received so many emails since I started blogging about my blog designer, Lindsay Nicole. She designed this blog from scratch and I’m so thrilled by her aesthetics, fair prices, and attention to detail. I love her dearly for being so goddamn patient with me. She’s back in the blog design game full-time. If you need a blog re-design or something totally new and fresh, Lindsay is big pimpin.’

P.P.S. You. Me. Facebook. Let’s make it happen. I post original content on Facebook throughout the week. “Like” the page to see pictures + posts in your news feed.
image via pinterest

August 6, 2012