If you are ever asked…

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to help plan my funeral, please do not play weepy country songs, OK? Just play one or both of the following:

1) the “na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye!” song

2) the song from the Vonage commercial (the one that goes “Woohoo, woohoohoo!”)

And perhaps Leonard Cohen’s song “Closing Time” just for good measure. Speaking of Leonard… guess who’s coming almost to town later this year? YES! Leonard Cohen! For real! Tickets go on sale on Thursday and I have Gene’s approval to buy the absolute best tickets our teeny tiny fun budget can afford. (Okay, fine. I’d throw in our grocery budget because…Leonard Cohen is OLD and I’ll probably never get this chance again).

(And also… Steely Dan is going to be in Atlanta over Gene’s birthday weekend. That weekend, we may be going to not Atlanta to visit Gene’s best friend and his wife and their new baby, by which I mean the NEW new baby, not the one who is 17 months old. Bless their hearts. So, I would like to see Steely Dan but I’d rather hold a baby.)



So, last Friday…

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Last Friday Gene and I went to the Cheesecake City General Hospital for some testing in re: Plan B (lack thereof).

And… hmm, well.

It doesn’t look good. It doesn’t look impossible (yet, points out the little dark part of my head, the part that Googles in its free time). More testing in August, we’ll see what happens then.

On the bright side, I think I managed to survive yet another hellacious payroll. (Seriously, what kind of mega payroll provider decides to change minimum wage a whole 2 weeks early??? How dumb is that???)

(And on the bright side of that, our payroll salesdude is buying Gwen and I lunch next week (as an “I’m sorry my employer sometimes makes hugely moronic decisions!” present). Yum. Appetizer, entree AND dessert, please!)


oh, that’s right!

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My darling baby brother, Macaulay/Bill, kindly reminded me of one of the greatest parts of my entire wedding experience. And most of you were witness to this, but…what the hell, since when has redundancy ever stopped me?

So, our rehearsal dinner was held at a Creole (?) restaurant in Cheesecake City. I chose it because it was nice without being too expensive. The best thing on the menu was the Bananas Foster, but this story isn’t about Bananas Foster.

It’s about chocolate cake.

The limited menu we chose for our guests included the above mentioned dessert and their huuuuuge chocolate cake. The damned thing was the size of a porterhouse steak. (Funny story about porterhouse steaks – Macauley/Bill ate one at age 8; in hindsight, that is what we call precedence). At our table it was Gene, me, Brandy, Gene’s best friend (who shall remain nameless because someday maybe he’ll be the President), Mom, Dad, Grandma M and Macauley/Bill.

Gene’s best friend took one look at the cake and said, “I will pay anyone who can eat all of that $20”.

Well, my brother was 21. And broke. And fortunately, hungry. There exists a picture of Gene’s best friend handing over the $20 to my brother. I don’t have it (Bill, do you??) but I have seen it. The cake bet was the hit of the evening, and, at least for my brother (who turned green when offered chocolate cake that next Monday), probably the entire long weekend.

Ta-da.


7 years…

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So, seven years ago today Gene and I got married. Just about everyone who reads this blog was there and like I said on Facebook, I am so thankful that everyone I love in the world was there. I have the pictures to prove it 🙂 This time 7 years ago, Gene and I sat at our dining room table alone, ate leftovers from the buffet (I hated our caterer but I was so glad that there was food in the house!) and opened our presents. We had a zillion hour drive to WDW the next day and I wrote Thank you notes on the way.

That entire weekend was really nice. Gene’s brother and his wife showed up on Thursday (?), my friend Tracy showed up that day too – we went to the mall and spent a lot of money at the Clinique counter in hopes that I’d learn how to do my makeup via osmosis. (I think I forced Tracy to eat barbeque for lunch… what a sport!)

Later on Thursday we had a huge crowd at the house and grilled steak. My SIL made blue cheese stuffed zucchini and oh, that was yummy. Admittedly it’s fuzzy now – I’m going to guess that Friday was my bachelorette party (and Gene’s bachelor party – hey, Brandy, remember Gene’s brother trying to run us off the road in a rental minivan?). By then Brandy and Julie and Amanda had showed up. Awesome. All the women (except my stepgrandmother and a few others – maybe my Aunt Lyn?) went out for Mexican food and then the younger crew went to Dave & Busters. We danced a little, we drank a little, we played a little pool. The only rule was that I did not want anything waggling in my face. Impressively, no one tried me on that one.

Saturday: rehearsal, rehearsal dinner at a Creole restaurant. The rehearsal dinner was financed by my family, which is good because if we’d had to buy you all would have been lucky to get two slices of pizza. (A word on the wedding budget: you start off a year before the wedding buying the cheapest shoes possible and the day before the wedding you basically walk around with your Visa in your hand, just offering anyone money to just…make…problems…go…away! To wit, see above re: Clinique counter).

Anyway. Sunday, the big day. Awesome. Brandy gave a reading and I didn’t promise to obey anyone. (The minister wouldn’t have let it happen anyway).

Oh, hey, the minster! He walked into the dressing room where Gene was waiting (nervously…) and told him that I’d told him that Gene was going to recite his vows from memory. (This is funny because I pieced together the entire ceremony and I’m pretty sure Gene had only memorized “I do” and may have not even read it)

Hee!!  The minister = expensive, but worth it. (Especially since our other options were getting married in prison or at City Hall, neither of which was a valid choice for multiple reasons).

And in conclusion, I married Gene seven years ago today. It was a good day and I’m glad we’re married. And gladder yet that we will never have to do that again.


Gene has discovered Pogo.com

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…and we should all be nervous.

So, he is playing WordJong (to try and earn my weekly badge). This game is like MahJongg but you have to spell words instead of match animal shapes. “Is Godfart a word?”

Scandalized, I reply “NO!”

“Are you sure? Godforsaken is a word.”

“Okay, it’s two words but still, I don’t think it’ll count according to Pogo.”

Gene smiles. “Google will decide.”

And it turns out, he’s a little bit right.


‘ears the thing…

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Because I know you are all waiting with baited breath for an update on Elaine’s Ears, here it is!

Now ‘righty’ is pissed off at all the attention ‘lefty’ has received and has chosen to take it out on me.  Owwwwwww. (Righty, don’t have a tantrum. Use your words!) I emailed D at work today and asked if she had any good drugs because I’d like to be pain free when I use my letter opener to perform an emergency eardrum-ectomy. (She very kindly offered me her last Advil instead, which I took her up on).


A reason for an iPhone…

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(or at least a phone I could successfully use to post on the blog and/or Facebook).

If I had an iPhone, I would have told you all this:

“I wish you all could see what just came out of my ears!”

So, my ears hurt. Mostly lefty, but righty isn’t too happy. I had planned to see Dr. Hottie (my GP) on July 17 (after a super fun gyno procedure) but instead… well, I drove to lunch today and as I was making a turn all of a sudden the inside of my ear screamed. Ouch! It felt a little too much like my Epic Sinus Infection of 2003 (the one where Dr. Hottie made me get an MRI before he’d call in meds – why do I think he’s cute?) so I made an executive decision.

Anyway. Yadda yadda yadda, 3:30 “work in” appointment with Dr. Hottie’s associate. His first solution was to irrigate both ears. I am pretty sure I saw angels, folks. And a ton of earwax. (Eeew, I know! But true!) It was hilarious – the nurse handled this and she told me how much she loooooves irrigating patients’ ears. She was really good at it!

So, endgame: eardrops (that I will use! I PROMISE! even if I have to come to work with a cottonball in my ear) and antibiotics for the next 10 days.


When did I become old?

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I need to work harder lying about my age.

Gene and I are watching “Zack & Miri Make a Porno” and there is a scene with Justin Long (the guy who plays Mac in the “I’m a Mac, I’m a PC” ads) and Seth Rogen (the titular “Zack”) and Gene says, “There is no way they could have gone to school together.”

“I know!” I reply. “Seth Rogen has GOT to be a little older than me and Justin Long is really young.”

My mistake was looking this up on IMDB.com.

Seth Rogen was born in 1982. (Surely the oldest looking 27 year old ever)

Justin Long was born in 1978. (Surely the youngest looking 31 year old ever)

I’m going to start drinking now.


TGIF

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So, yesterday I had to lower everybody’s pay rates. Mine, the Almighty D’s, Gwen’s, Stefania *and* her Toady’s. Everyone. Managers I like, managers I hate. It hurt so bad to do that. I thought I might take a little glee when I lowered our Bonus Controller’s, but no.  I folded the report so I could only see rates and employee id numbers, but still. Eccch.

What’s crazy is that there is this incredibly complex formula for determining what we can do to get our bucks back. It has to do with the locations increasing sales (wacky concept, I know). We’d had a meeting earlier in the week with the Head Cheese and during the Q&A portion, I found myself asking if there was anything the office people (like me) could do to make this happen – I mean, like, if I don’t screw up, do I get my 15% back?

(Nope. It’s all in the hands of the locations).

So I pipe up and ask this and apparently somewhere in the middle of the question I passed out or something because when I came to and my brain realized the stupid question my mouth was asking, my brain was screaming “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP NOW!”

(On the bright side, both The Almighty D and Gwen told me that my question was OK and that I was the only one with the nads to ask it).

(But still. Stupid, stupid.)

It sucks losing money – it doesn’t feel American to make less money than before. We get some weird extra time off but when am I going to use that? Gwen would shoot me if I wanted to be gone for the payroll processing days and D is super crazy insane busy so I try very hard to ask her when I am desperate. (Or in Malaysia).

(ha ha)