Dress BOUGHT!!!

I'm so HAPPY! I finally bought my wedding dress. It's a chic, simple design. I love the way it looks and I feel so sexy in it. I've lost 20 pounds so far on this low-carb diet, so I'm looking forward to losing another 20 and looking incredible in this thing. I actually trekked out to North Carolina for this baby. That, in itself, was an adventure.

I flew in an airplane for the first time. I was a tad claustrophobic on the small plane, tucked in the back right in front of the bathroom and flanking my fiancee and one of the propellers. The take off made my stomach drop, like when the elevator shoots up to the 30th floor. Sonny was really good about it, holding my hand and assuring me through explanations everytime a funny noise emanated from the bottom of the plane, or the plane made a jerking motion in the air.

We stayed in a smelly, smoke-infested room at the Red Roof Inn and ate at a cute diner style place called Waffle House in the mornings. It was two days but we had so much fun and it was so productive, it felt longer to us. Sonny taught me how to parallel park and drive, and while I courted disaster a few times (going off the road and into the gravel on a particularly curvy exit ramp) we had so much fun. It's weekends like these that remind me of why I love Sonny. Anyone else would've been howling with rage and fear after I went off the road (and quickly recovered, thank-you-very-much) but Sonny and I were laughing about it 2 minutes later. He gets me like no one else does or can. He knows my moods, my feelings, sometimes my thoughts before I express them. We're on a level plain and I can't get over how sweet it is to find that special person.

But it's a official. I've found the dress. Sonny also bought a bitching suit to wear, which makes him look uber-English. He's anglo saxon so this suit just makes him look like a regular John Newland. All he needs is the blue fedora and the black-wing tip shoes. It's fun to plan a wedding...at least sometimes it is!

I finally decided that I couldn't wait for my friend to make my dress as he promised, off-handly. I'm glad I did because I've got to wait 3 months for that dress! Imagine someone making it by hand in their home? Especially this guy who takes distractions like some people pop pills!

::Sigh:: With friends like these who needs enemies?

FedEx SUCKS!!

I purchased a cute little "Pet Mate pet taxi" from Petco.com. My joy at snagging this awesome purchase on sale was short lived. I was met with fumbling idiocy at the hands of FedEx package handlers. The first screw up: they couldn't find my apartment. I do live in an unsual building which does (technically speaking) boast 2 addresses. True enough. But is that any call for them to send my package flying into the empty void of unclaimed-package-land? Next thing I know, I'm tracking my package in f'ing New Jersey! I call the customer service line, slightly appalled, but not too bad off. The soothing voice of my customer service assistant iced me down some. He sent out an internal tracking code for my package, and told me to call the Brooklyn location to see what the hell they've been smoking. (Ok, maybe he didn't but he should've). So I did and I changed my shipping address, (yet again) with these people. It came to Brooklyn for a day or two and this morning I find out the fuckers sent it back to Jersey! I live in BROOKLYN, gahdamnit!!! B-R-O-O-K-L-Y-N!! Sheesh! I called customer service again, seething this time. It's shit like this that can fudge up ya day, ya know?! AAARRRGGG!!! We'll see if they get it right this time....

Don't you hate shitty service?

5 points for moi

Ok, so...just to clear things up, since when has it been ok to use the excuse of a death in the family to worm out of meeting an old friend? My ex pal did that. It was a blow to me when I caught on to it. I'm torn now, between wanting to expose her for the liar she is, and no longer dealing with her at all. I guess the best thing to do is to leave it alone. Walk away, and live my life. But like a wound, open and vulnerable, I can't stop picking at it. I want my moment of unmasking the lying cunt. I want that "Aha!" moment. But it feels like I'm compromising my principles to attain it. In the midst of the "big picture" she was never an important component at all. More like an smudge of paint in some obscure subject of the picture. A very distant and distorted subject. Why should she matter now, after 3 years? It's probably more of an ego thing than I'd like to admit. Why doesn't she want to hang with me? After 6 years, I'm only worth a horrible lie to her? Why can't we have drinks and eat rich foods and be young adults together? Laughing and joking, tossing back our heads, rounding our mouths and squinting our eyes shut with flirtatious, hilarious joy. I guess when you socialize with children, the reprocussions are of a child-like nature.

If I come away with nothing more it's that ^see above^. You can't dress a whore in Versace and call her a lady. You can't put an olive is Sprite and call it a martini. And you can't drudge through the emotional problems of an attention starved, lifeless, couch potato and come out with a friend. I'm a little hurt about all this after wasting my precious time listening to her moan and bitch about wanting a life like an air headed socialite (will refrain from using names). The worming out of a meeting is something I should have done. But as I said, here's the obvious inability to leave well enough alone and allow nature to take it's wonderous and sometimes frightening course on this one.

Anyone else want to discard their shackles? Shackle dispenser here>>> I__I

Theme Song, Greenday's Boulevard of Broken Dreams

I'm stumbling along the lonely road; protein shake in one hand, an unraveled jump rope in the other. I'm on a diet, yet again. I'm not too bad off in the weight department. But I'm not too well off either. I'm not opposed to diets; I just don't think it's realistic to diet forever. We're all human. Pizza still smells nice, even with the Atkins bible pressed into your palm. Burgers are still heavenly, even with South Beach commandments jostling around in your tote bag. So on the conventional diets, when you fall off the wagon, you're out of the running. At least that's how it was for me. If I suffered a moment of weakness with some pals out for pizza, I suffered afterward. The scale would grin, maniacally, at me. The numbers would whizz past into outrageous digits. I'd have a Kirstie Alley moment where I would howl at the ceiling, "Oh my God!" and crumple to the floor in a sobbing heap, next to the tub.

I'm not on Weight Watchers or Atkins. I'm on the Curves diet. This is a diet that encourages you to maintain a certain eating habit that won't shut down your liver, or anything crazy like that. It's not a fad diet (like the coconut diet...bleech! I dig c-nuts, but that's too weird for me). It's a new way of life... provided I can get past the first intense week of dieting. I'm only allowed 15 grams of carbs a day, at least for the first 2 weeks. It's going to be hard, but I just have to remember my girl Kirstie and the sound of the scale seeking out the perfect trio-combination of digits to break my heart.

Life's a bitch sometimes, no?