November 2010

Recently it has hit me that in less than a week I will be a wife.  Tony will actually have to introduce me to people as his wife.  No longer his girlfriend.  His fiancee.  Partner, cohabitant, best gal.  (That last one was for all of you reminiscing about the 1950’s…are there many of you doing that?)

Which means I will call him my husband.  No longer boyfriend, fiancee, guy in my kitchen who always drinks all my OJ.

When did this happen?  I am alarmed.  Because the last I checked I was 14.  I think that was yesterday.  When did 27 happen?

Sometimes I still feel like I’m playing pretend.  And I’m always worried the world will find out my secret soon enough.  Adult imposter!  Waah!  Waah!  Waah! (That was my siren.  Did it sound like a siren?)

I went to buy wine tonight and felt bashful about it (and then insulted when they didn’t ask for my ID, but that’s another story for the future therapist).  I don’t like to hang my feet over the bed because I get creeped out something could reach up and grab me.  I eat Mac and Cheese more than the recommended yearly dose, according to our Surgeon General.

Does this sound like someone’s wife to you?  An adult wife?

Tony isn’t much better.  Two words.  Video games.


Whatever the title, we’ll be joined in 5 days.  Husband and Wife.  Man and his Better Half.  Two Peas in a Pod.  Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.  Call it what you will.


In one week I will go from a Miss to a Mrs.

That is all.  Nothing further to report.

Only a minor freak-out, no big deal.

I’m not normally a huge germaphobe.  Sure, I’m a salmonella-phobe.  A winter weather-phobe.  Heck, I could even be accused of being an afraid-of-my-own-shadow-phobe.  But not as much a germaphobe.  I don’t like getting sick.  I wash my hands when I get home from being out.  But I don’t sit and worry constantly about getting sick.  Except until now.  2 weeks before the wedding.  Right at the triumphant beginning of flu season.  Flu season says “Taa Daaa! I’m here, bitches!”

I have now turned into that psycho woman who will look at you with disgust when you sneeze into your hand and not your elbow.  If you sniffle, I will step 5 feet back.  God forbid you might look a little pasty, because then I will actually try to conceive a plan to take your temperature without you knowing.  Under your tongue though.  I think you might very well know if I took it someplace else.  Ew.

Not only have I turned into a huge ‘fraidy cat about anything microscopic, but Tony has also become a diva about venturing into the land of sick.  Or the land of potential sick.  Basically, if he thinks you may have a cold, you will not be invited over for video games.

You know the irony in this, right?  You know that, because I talk a lot about these karma gods looking over me, and I tend to piss them off quite a bit, I will come down with something on my wedding day.  I’m looking around for wood to knock on right now.  Even just committing that to writing has me worried I jinxed myself.  Add that to the list.  A jinx-a-phobe.


I keep getting spam emails that say something along the lines of “Get her that engagement ring she’s always wanted.”  I mean, I appreciate the spam gods trying to help me get the most blinging-est of rings and all, but they ARE a little late for the party.  I mean…the tequila shots have already been passed around, I guess is what I’m saying.  Sorry, Jose, you weren’t on the invite list.  But I’d appreciate it if you could have someone come claim your cousin, Patron.  He’s still passed out in our bathtub.

Which is my awkward way of bringing up that we got our wedding bands.  Shazaam!  Check out that segway, folks!

Am I the only one who appreciates my sense of humor?  It’s a lonely world being a terrible comedian.

Anyhow, that’s my only news as of late.  Other than the fact that my stress level can now be seen by small aircraft carriers over the friendly skies of Milwaukee.

Let me run by you a small inkling into what my conversations with Tony have been lately.  If you want to check yourself into a psych ward after reading this, you’ll find you have a new appreciation for the kind of man Tony is.

“Tony, these centerpieces look weird.  Like the ornaments don’t go all the way to the bottom.  They need something.  Something gold.  No, it has to be gold, red won’t work.  How about this?  Yes, it absolutely needs this, so now we need 15 more, can you come to Michael’s with me?”

“These table numbers sort of compete with the centerpiece, don’t they?  Yeah?  No?  Tony?  You need to come look at this.  No, really, can you look now?  Can’t you pause the game?  Ok, good, look from over here.  No, here.  No, you’ll get a better view here.  Help me brainstorm how I can fix this, because I know you think about this wedding as much as I do and if the centerpieces aren’t right this whole thing will be RUINED!  Just RUINED!”

“I need you to get a new driver’s license so we can go get our wedding license on Thursday.  Do you know how I go about changing my last name?  This is so haaard, Tone.  This adult stuff sucks.”

“You want some special attention (wink, wink!) right now?  Can’t we just cuddle and talk about our feeeeeelings?!”

That last one is an actual conversation.  But usually it’s said more as a joke.  I said usually…

By the way – we are also accepting gift certificates to see a therapist as a wedding gift.  For Tony of course…

Our DJ is pretty cool and basically allows us to pick as little or as much music as we’d like for that night.  And because I’m a big lover of all things “Bad 80s” you know I’ll be treating you all to an awesome earful of 80’s-tastic fun.  You’re welcome in advance.  Thank you cards are not necessary.

But because there are only so many Michael Jackson and Madonna songs, I’m always open for suggestions.  I’m enlisting your help for some good wedding reception songs.  So lay ’em on me.  Maybe you’ll even get a fun shout-out on the big day before your song.  You just never know what I’m capable of.


I know I’ve been pretty bad about getting around to detailing “Round 2” of my table number photo luminaries, also known as, Project Wood Stain Fumes.  If you missed it, I described the beginning of this project here.

The fumes have settled and the little fairies I was seeing on my paint high have now dissipated (mostly), so I thought I’d provide the finish to this little project.  Also, it might well be the one and only craft I do for this wedding so I had to document this to paper.  Or computer screen.  Whatever – I just needed proof that I actually completed something crafty.

So, here’s the rest of it for all you DIY brides out there.  Because in between being cheeky and snarky, I do like to make sure I’m giving my readers a good education.  My aim is to be the teacher that you’ll always remember.  The one who changed your life around.  Like Michelle Pfeifer style.  Coolio is no longer walking through that valley in the shadow of death and taking a look at his life and realizing there’s nothing left.  You’re welcome from Michelle and me.

Veering off-course, Katie…veering off course.  Focus, girl…

Ok, so where did we leave off?  Oh yeah – I had printed out our pictures on the vellum paper, but the frames hadn’t yet been stained.

My MIL helped with the staining, of which I know we did, but I don’t remember much of (please see commentary on paint fumes above).  After letting them dry, I took Tacky Glue and carefully outlined the little ridge of the photo frame.  Sort of like so:

Here’s what it looks like from the front:

Wow, that is one cute Little Tony.  The tie might even push the cuteness into a level in which your teeth might actually, literally hurt.

When you’re done with all of them, you pick out 3 to put together.  We spent a few nights going back and forth to the hardware store, trying to come up with a creative way to bracket 3 photo frames together to form a triangle.  Brackets were ridiculously expensive when you figure you’ll need around 45 and the other ideas involved too much glue.  In the end, clear packaging tape ended up working the best.

Make sure you stand them up to make sure no frame is a little higher than the others.  If that happens, you’ll have one frame that wants to swing away the whole night, ruining the triangle.

I taped a few together to place on our kitchen counter and show you how they should stand, in triangle formation.  Which sounds really military for an arts and craft project.

The last step is to place a tealight candle inside (in a votive holder of course, because this sucker will go up in flames if exposed to fire…much like, well…anything…).

Unfortunately, it’s hard to photograph things in dim light to show a candle effect.  But trust me on this one.  It’s cool.

The last thing I need to do is to glue on the table numbers to the wood.  I haven’t finished painting them yet.

But this project is pretty much over.  Word to the wise for other brides out there – Martha crafts look deceptively simple.  When science is finally able to tackle the whole cloning-thing, you might want to go pick up your own clone-Martha at the local Michael’s and have her do this for you.  40% coupons are good because I hear she’s expensive.  I mean…she DOES have a lot of stocks to keep up with.

It is Monday morning and I am not at work.  But before you start worrying about the state of my occupational status, let me inform you that I took off for today.  Jealousy is an awful thing, you guys.  How’s your workday going?

Oh that was cruel.  Just like how I’m going to tell you I slept until 11 this morning.  Super cruel.

Anyway, the reason I took off for today was because I had this weird feeling I would need an extra day of recovery.  After all, it was my Bachelorette Party this weekend.

I have some pretty, freakin’ amazing b-maids.  Here’s how it went down.

The party was being held down in Chicago at one my best friend, Tiffany’s, new condo.  So my other bff, Allie, and I hopped in the car and took a drive down on Saturday.  I had no idea what they had planned.  And I was a little nervous for my liver.  Because if you knew my friends…you’d be nervous too.

Please make room, Tiff. I will be moving into your beautiful condo in a week. Ok, good, thanks.


The night was a blast.  They, and my other good friend Kristen, surprised me with a dinner of Lou Malnati’s.  Any of you readers from Chicago?  If you are, you’ll know of Lou Malnati’s.  It’s a pizza chain in Chicago that makes the most wicked Chicago deep dish on the planet.  In fact, that would be my last meal on death row.  Not that I’m planning on being on death row or anything.

Next we opened fun Bachelorette party gifts.  Of which I’ll spare you the details because my grandma reads this blog, for gosh sakes!

Hi Grandma!  We had such a fun night knitting and watching scary movies!

Aww, how'd you guys know candy jewelry was my wedding day look?

After our “flashback to college” getting-ready sesh, which involved blasting “rap crap” music and being 5 deep trying to do our hair in the bathroom mirror, we were ready for the town.  The girls still wouldn’t let me know where we were headed, so when we got to the bar, Fizz Chicago, I just figured we were at a pub crawl.  But they led me upstairs to the Pub Theater, handed me a ticket and then ordered me a drink when the waitress came around.  There were about 80 people crammed into this little room, looking up at the stage.  And it was a rowdy bunch, ya’ll.

All of a sudden, the lights came on and a bunch of actors came out on the stage welcoming us to Bye, Bye Liver, Chicago’s “interactive drinking game” play.  I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in so long.  The actors put on skits about typical drinking scenarios and in between, they’d play interactive games with the audience.  And it all involved drinking.  It’s like sitting in the dorm room playing Kings all over again…but this time with a huge audience to drink along with.

By the time it was over, I was good and tipsy.  Which made it easier to go downstairs to the bar without feeling like a total dork wearing a sash, a whistle and a shot glass around my neck.  (Oh, and we also had candy bracelets that we were going to make money selling bites of, but I think we all literally ate our own candy bracelets.  I only hang with friends who like candy.  This should not come as a surprise, people.)

Keepin' it classy, ya'll


The rest of the night was a blur.  Here are the evening’s stats:

5:  different bars

2:  men who donned the Bachelorette sash at various points of the evening

3:  candy penises left at various, hilarious locations around the great city of Chicago.

Close your eyes, Grandma!

3:  times I heard Michael Jackson’s “PYT: Pretty Young Thing” and yelled “This is my song, dawgs!”

3:  guys who tried to pick me up while I’m wearing a damn bachelorette sash.  What’s wrong with you guys?

1:  guy who actually literally picked me up after he thought I could use a good minute of crazy square dancing.  FYI – you were creepy, dude.

5:15 a.m.:  our arrival time back at the condo.  Also proof as to why I needed this extra day off.

1:  very happy, very exhausted bride who went home to eat another piece of pizza and sleep it off on the couch that night.

Next Page »