A few Saturdays ago, my cousin Rob married his longtime fiancée, Jackie. This was a totally happy occasion, as Rob is a great person and Jackie his equal in every way. I don’t know if anyone ever wishes for in-laws, but I really don’t see how you could hope to get anyone sweeter than Rob or Jackie for your own. Still, as it is with most weddings, no matter how much you love the bride and groom, there’s always a slight sense of dread when it comes to actually attending the event. And that is precisely what I was feeling when the day was finally upon us.
I had several concerns about attending this wedding, first and foremost being, of course, that I had absolutely nothing to wear. I don’t go to weddings that often, and I have little or no need for dressy clothes in my day-to-day life. Because of this, not only did I have no formal wear in my closet, I also had no idea how to do formal wear properly. By doing a little snooping before hand (ie, asking everyone I knew who was invited to the wedding what they were going to wear) I figured that I could get away with some kind of sassy business attire, maybe even pants. Armed with my new info, I hit the mall with my favorite shopping partner, my grandma, Vivian, and came away with a really cute, appropriate outfit – and my very first pair of stilettos, which I have to say I really, really love. Sure, I couldn’t feel my second and third toes on my left foot for a week or two after the wedding, but the shoes looked hot and – I’ll admit it – were a nice change from my usual Converse and slip-on Vans. After the successful, virtually painless purchase of the ensemble, I was feeling more optimistic about the wedding day.
Optimism is a funny thing though. As any lady will tell you, once you have a cute outfit locked, you can convince yourself to do most things based solely on the confidence boost you get from knowing you look good. I’m fairly sure that I was riding that train right up until the day of the event, when the pessimism set back in and the list of horrible things that could go down starting compiling itself in my head. For example, as I am certain it is at most weddings, Rob and Jackie’s was sure to have a modicum of familial weirdness, which I was most definitely not looking forward to encountering. Another thing: I don’t dance (or rather, I haven’t figured out how to dance in public without looking like some crazy Elaine impersonator), and at a traditional wedding, it’s hard to avoid dancing. Then there’s the added pressure of the bouquet toss. As is well documented, I am single, and being the age that I am, that apparently makes me a prime bouquet toss participant. And how about the fact that you inevitably get greeted by someone you know you should know but then proceed to blank on their name when it comes time to return the salutation? Those things, and a whole host of other equally heinous situations could go down at a wedding at any given time, and, well, I was pretty much at a DefCon 10 level of anxiety when it came time to go to the wedding.
As it turned out, I didn’t really have to worry about any of those things. The family stuff thankfully – mercifully - took a back seat to the happiness of the day. I didn’t have to dance, mainly because whenever anyone asked me, I pointed out that the floor looked very slick and that my shoes were very new (this actually made me love the shoes even more). I managed to escape the bouquet toss simply by lying low behind a tall centerpiece when the DJ called all the single gals to the floor (though my Aunt Virginia almost blew my cover by maniacally pointing from me to the dance floor, at which point I slunk out of my chair and made a beeline to the open bar…it’s funny how Cosmopolitans can deaden the meddling of batty aunts, isn’t it?). And as far as blanking on names goes, I found that if you mumble, you can pretty much get away with calling anyone “Janet” without them ever noticing (though methinks the open bar helped with that one too). All in all, it was a nice event, and I think I enjoyed myself (though that could just be the relief that it’s over talking…).
Monday, May 21, 2007
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Finally, 3 Things: April
Forgive me. I forgot I had a blog there for a minute. I’m not crazy (well, maybe I’m crazy like a fox, but that’s a different story), just busy. Anyway, I’m back with a new post now, the much-delayed “3 Things,” April edition. Enjoy! And if you don’t, I don’t want to hear about it : )
1. Fleetwood Mac, Rumours
One recent obsession of mine has been the VH1 Classic channel. For a long time, whenever I was channel surfing, I would buzz right by this station, mostly because on our satellite it’s grouped with a bunch of other crappy music channels that I really have no interest in (unless I’m watching "Engaged and Underage," but that goes without saying). I would still be buzzing by it had “Classic Albums: Fleetwood Mac” not caught my eye mid-browse. There is something you should know about me: I love Fleetwood Mac, and have for a long, long time. I’m a Fleetwood Mac junkie (as opposed to the members of Fleetwood Mac, who were actual junkies). I love the music and I love all the convoluted, overly dramatic, tempestuous relationship crap that went on (and still goes on) behind it all. Plus, if I could trade lives with anyone in the world, it would almost certainly be Stevie Nicks, not only so that I could wear her awesome clothes and sing with her beautiful voice, but also because she’s just about the coolest chick ever. She’s a little witchy and that freaks me out but in a good way. And if the life trading is possible, I think time travel should also be doable, so I would trade lives with her in the 1970s, mainly because I would want to get it on with Lindsey Buckingham when he was still hot, and have immediate access to a lot of coke. Whoo, not unlike Pam on “The Office,” I am saying a lot of things…so back to the topic at hand, Rumours. This is, hands down, the best Fleetwood Mac album of all time, and maybe the best album of its time. At the time it was recorded, Lindsey and Stevie were breaking up, as were John and Christine, and Mick was getting divorced. I think they all pretty much hated each other during the year it took them to record Rumours, but some intense, gorgeous music came out of those sessions (definitely check out “I Don’t Want to Know” - it’s not often remembered as one of Fleetwood Mac’s greatest songs, but it’s fantastic). I have but one problem with this album: How did “Silver Springs” not make the final cut but “Oh Daddy” did? This glaring oversight, along with Bjork, her music and her fashion choices, is something I will never, ever understand. It’s still an incredible album though, and it was numero uno in my music rotation for all of April.
2. Headbands
My hair is curly, frizzy, and generally unmanageable. Couple that with the fact that I like to invest little or no time in my everyday appearance, and it’s pretty much a recipe for disaster. To make matters worse, no matter what combo of products I use, I always wake up looking like a cracked out Don King. I could blame genetics (and why shouldn’t I? I blame them for pretty much everything else.), or the fact that I sleep like a madwoman, all twisty and turny. Whatever the reason, I always thought that I was destined to forever have a somewhat frazzled daytime look - until I discovered the miracle that is the headband. Hear me now: I love headbands. In style or out, it makes no difference to me. Elastic, metal, silk, patent leather, plastic – I couldn’t care less what they’re made of, bring ‘em all on. If hairstyling were like Scientology, instead of Xenu, its disciples would be worshipping the headband. With minimal effort, I can create a couple of really cute looks. Pull the hair into a low ponytail, slap on a headband, and you’ve got a simple, businesslike look. Tuck the hair up into a high bun and cap it off with a headband – voila! Instant princess. I look finished and put together without even really trying. And that is a beautiful thing.
3. The Best Fan in the World
No, I’m not talking about you, OK.NOWwhat (though I do very much enjoy your comments and appreciate your continued readership). I’m talking about the Seville UltraSlimline Fan. This is, quite simply put, the best fan in the world. Put it to you this way: If fans were like Scientology, instead of Xenu, their disciples would worship the Seville UltraSlimline. I don’t even know where to start when singing the praises of this magic machine. I just know that its tall, thin design is easy to store when it’s cold (read: anytime it’s below 75 degrees), its three “natural breeze” settings rock my world, it’s freakishly quiet even on its highest speed, and its remote control caters to all my lazy tendencies. An added bonus: It comes with a 12-inch personal fan as well! In my house, that fan belongs to the dog, Maverick. That hound is definitely the rock star of the family, so it seemed only fitting that he should get his own mini PF. And you should get one too, because if you’re reading this, you’re for sure regarded as a rock star here at Destroy All Evidence.
I hope your April was filled with great stuff like mine was. Check back in a few days when I'll be posting about a wedding I went to last weekend. Oh, the fun we shall have!
1. Fleetwood Mac, Rumours
One recent obsession of mine has been the VH1 Classic channel. For a long time, whenever I was channel surfing, I would buzz right by this station, mostly because on our satellite it’s grouped with a bunch of other crappy music channels that I really have no interest in (unless I’m watching "Engaged and Underage," but that goes without saying). I would still be buzzing by it had “Classic Albums: Fleetwood Mac” not caught my eye mid-browse. There is something you should know about me: I love Fleetwood Mac, and have for a long, long time. I’m a Fleetwood Mac junkie (as opposed to the members of Fleetwood Mac, who were actual junkies). I love the music and I love all the convoluted, overly dramatic, tempestuous relationship crap that went on (and still goes on) behind it all. Plus, if I could trade lives with anyone in the world, it would almost certainly be Stevie Nicks, not only so that I could wear her awesome clothes and sing with her beautiful voice, but also because she’s just about the coolest chick ever. She’s a little witchy and that freaks me out but in a good way. And if the life trading is possible, I think time travel should also be doable, so I would trade lives with her in the 1970s, mainly because I would want to get it on with Lindsey Buckingham when he was still hot, and have immediate access to a lot of coke. Whoo, not unlike Pam on “The Office,” I am saying a lot of things…so back to the topic at hand, Rumours. This is, hands down, the best Fleetwood Mac album of all time, and maybe the best album of its time. At the time it was recorded, Lindsey and Stevie were breaking up, as were John and Christine, and Mick was getting divorced. I think they all pretty much hated each other during the year it took them to record Rumours, but some intense, gorgeous music came out of those sessions (definitely check out “I Don’t Want to Know” - it’s not often remembered as one of Fleetwood Mac’s greatest songs, but it’s fantastic). I have but one problem with this album: How did “Silver Springs” not make the final cut but “Oh Daddy” did? This glaring oversight, along with Bjork, her music and her fashion choices, is something I will never, ever understand. It’s still an incredible album though, and it was numero uno in my music rotation for all of April.
2. Headbands
My hair is curly, frizzy, and generally unmanageable. Couple that with the fact that I like to invest little or no time in my everyday appearance, and it’s pretty much a recipe for disaster. To make matters worse, no matter what combo of products I use, I always wake up looking like a cracked out Don King. I could blame genetics (and why shouldn’t I? I blame them for pretty much everything else.), or the fact that I sleep like a madwoman, all twisty and turny. Whatever the reason, I always thought that I was destined to forever have a somewhat frazzled daytime look - until I discovered the miracle that is the headband. Hear me now: I love headbands. In style or out, it makes no difference to me. Elastic, metal, silk, patent leather, plastic – I couldn’t care less what they’re made of, bring ‘em all on. If hairstyling were like Scientology, instead of Xenu, its disciples would be worshipping the headband. With minimal effort, I can create a couple of really cute looks. Pull the hair into a low ponytail, slap on a headband, and you’ve got a simple, businesslike look. Tuck the hair up into a high bun and cap it off with a headband – voila! Instant princess. I look finished and put together without even really trying. And that is a beautiful thing.
3. The Best Fan in the World
No, I’m not talking about you, OK.NOWwhat (though I do very much enjoy your comments and appreciate your continued readership). I’m talking about the Seville UltraSlimline Fan. This is, quite simply put, the best fan in the world. Put it to you this way: If fans were like Scientology, instead of Xenu, their disciples would worship the Seville UltraSlimline. I don’t even know where to start when singing the praises of this magic machine. I just know that its tall, thin design is easy to store when it’s cold (read: anytime it’s below 75 degrees), its three “natural breeze” settings rock my world, it’s freakishly quiet even on its highest speed, and its remote control caters to all my lazy tendencies. An added bonus: It comes with a 12-inch personal fan as well! In my house, that fan belongs to the dog, Maverick. That hound is definitely the rock star of the family, so it seemed only fitting that he should get his own mini PF. And you should get one too, because if you’re reading this, you’re for sure regarded as a rock star here at Destroy All Evidence.
I hope your April was filled with great stuff like mine was. Check back in a few days when I'll be posting about a wedding I went to last weekend. Oh, the fun we shall have!
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