this may very well be my last post as a single woman. in 52 hours i'll be someone's spouse. and then i won't talk about wedding crap here anymore.
here are a few things currently warming my heart:
a good book - breakfast on pluto; read in anticipation of seeing the film or, rather, cillian as a woman
a new sister - in russian they have a non-sibling term for it, but none of the russians i know can remember what exactly that term is... nevertheless, my sister-to-be arrived from the great white russia yesterday and i don't think any woman has ever been so thrilled to meet her in-laws
a man who is out buying a suit right now - with his sister. he also warms my bed.
incoming flights and rental cars - bearing many of those who love me enough to travel outside their state lines just to watch me tie the know, even if i secretly know that some are just amazed that it's finally happening after so many false starts... new york, st. louis, dc x 4 (though one is coming for ilya), nashville, and... which one am i missing?
cakes and ceremonies cooked up by my bestest friends, not to mention the playlists!
and how my parents seem almost as excited as we are...
...and most definitely not necessarily in that order...
i started this blog a happily single and free woman. i end this entry happy to bid it adieu.
today i got a marriage license and this text message:
"Dr. Pxxxxxsigned the minor form! Fuck econ!"
congrats to us both, i say!
so much for writing something every day... i have just been frightened of bombarding the innocent with too much wedding talk.
here follow some interesting details of the past few rotations on the ole axis:
the office cristmas (take that right fascists) party has left me with sore everything and a hang over from which i am still not fully recovered. damn that was fun!
a wedding intervention occurred when two of my dearest caught on to the fact that i am totaly procrastinating. and i was forced to register. this is a step no human should deny themself.
the only thing funnier than seeing your favorite hussy impersonate stevie nicks is knowing that her costume was borowed from your closet.
i discovered cillian murphy is equally beautiful as a woman.
on a cleaning frenzy and inspired by d, i started going through a large box of photographs that has been smoldering under the bed since we arrived at our kirkwood abode. the oglethorpe years collection alone filled FOUR albums. sheesh. don't let a drunk 19-yr-old loose with a camera...
this led to my long-lost friends chris and jacob being googled and contacted within a 2 hour window. we love you internet!
and here are a few text messages i have been saving on my phone because they make me giggle. it's a fun game if you try to guess who they're from:
"me love heidi"
"want to hear me karaoke?"
"i mean seriously... can't you just hear david caruso singing
common people?"
"
with or without you... strippers!"
"Arab Strap? hottest song EVER!"
"i am watching about flatworms having sex. isn't that exciting?"
"reception! New Order! stella!"
my cell phone lives on silent. i often use the excuse that this is because i spend a lot of time in theatres and don't want to disturb the peace or be that asshole whose phone went off.
i am about to confide to you my firends/readers/both the truth:
it's because of my work. no matter where i go it seems my job always entails taking calls, and to the point that the sound of a ringing phone induces in me a nagging and painful anxiety.
so just so you, it isn't that i don't want to talk to you. it is simply that after i leave work, i want to hear to hear a phone ring about as much as a garbageman wants to go home and sort trash. even if it happens to the tune of a supergrass ringtone.
ADDENDUM
i lied there is a fourth type, and my russian falls right into it. in fact, i believe he set the standard for it as others have before him.
it the handsome, oddly charming boy with the big brain.
ex. ilya, of course. colin meloy. john linnell.
ok. i think that covers it.
things i learned last nightmy "type" is typically one of three, each one based originally on one particular soul:
1.
george harrison. putting images of him and my beloved
colin greenwood side-by-side i finally answered my ex's old question of why colin and not johnny? hell, it even explains the ex.
2. my painful crush freshman year of college. he set the standard for my love of tall, gangly men.
richard ashcrofts of th world, know that someone out there will always appreciate your beauty.
3.the goofy fuck who broke my heart sophomore year of college. and broke it good. goofy fucks of the world, know i appreciate you, too.
the man who will be my husband in 30 days and counting fits none of these molds... or maybe all of them in some strange way.
i think that's awesome.
i am pretty good picking my friend's types... unless those friends are boys who like boys.
also:
mash-ups of the clash and gwen stefani are no better really than whitney houston/u2 ones. being a hipster does not make it ironic and permissable.
and:
stoli is not, as i was led to believe in college, a top shelf vodka. top shelf should not give you a hangover from two cocktails.
