our song

Y'all we might have found it! After considering long and hard, we might have picked our wedding song.

Picture it: me in a big white dress, Brian in a tux, twirling on the dance floor for the first time as husband and wife to this:

Kyleasaurus Rex

So this semester started and I got really busy trying (and mostly failing) to stay super on top of things and obviously the ole blog has suffered for it. I swear one of these days everything in my life will just fall into place and I will master the art of writing articles while washing dishes while teaching Penny to fold clothes while blogging* BUT UNTIL THEN please enjoy Kyle's head on a Tyrannosaurus Rex's body.

* Just kidding, we all know the likelihood of me overcoming procrastination and mastering the art of multitasking on things that actually matter is approximately 0.00000003%

Brides and Bridezillas

I don't know if there is anything that turns sane women into frothing, frenzied, frantic lunatics faster than a wedding. Society has turned a woman's wedding day into THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY EVER IN LIFE EVER IT MUST BE PERFECT OR ELSE. Women go to really insane extremes to make their day flawless. (Can you say Bridalplasty?) From stuff like Say Yes to the Dress (which I totally watch every time it's on, to my own chagrin), where the consultants regularly scoff at customers wishing to spend less than $2,000 on a dress they will wear once, to Mississippi Magazine's very popular wedding issue (which I worked on one summer and got to interact with some of these brides and worse - brides' moms), featuring Southern brides who insist on a full marching band, a 12 tier cake and 26 attendants, all decked out in fuchsia satin.

Whether it's their own wedding, Kate Middleton's, their best friend's or some random stranger's, women are obsessed.

And I think that is kind of dangerous. To make one day and the success thereof the indicating factor in not only the triumph of your marriage but the worth of your life is terrible. To put such pressure on the day will inevitably lead to failure - nothing is perfect, nothing can withstand that kind of scrutiny. Someone is going to spill or step or sneeze on your dress. Some family member is going to get too drunk and be embarrassing. Your nose or your ears or your knobbly knuckles are going to stick out and won't look like Kate Middleton's will (damn her). The flowers are going to droop, or the cake is going to smear or you are going to get a puffy red nose by sobbing through your vows (this WILL happen to me).

Once I start immersing myself in the planning process for this leviathan, my goal is to remind myself every day of these facts. And to remind myself that it's okay. I think I'm far too susceptible to wanting or expecting perfection for my own good. I want my wedding to be the best day of my life. But I want it to be so because I spend it with my very best friend (who also happens to be a hot piece of ass that is now stuck with me forever, yesssss). I want it to be so because all my family and friends are there, having the time of their lives. Not because I look really skinny that day or the decorator got the Chinese lanterns just right - although, you know, that stuff would be cool.

I want our day to be a reflection of us - every nerdy, silly, messy, geeky, inebriated, beautiful piece of us.

adventures with kittens: acrocat

I have already bragged about Penny's clearly superior athleticism in fetching mice. But there has been a new and even better development in the past month or so... A development that is taking her to new heights (and yes, that is a pun worthy of Horatio Caine).

Brian and Kathleen's Big Redneck Wedding

Brian and I are watching bits of "My Big Redneck Wedding" during commercials of the AFC championship game - specifically the "Tamzen and Kevin" episode, if that means anything to anyone. Mainly you just have to know that the bride is a 27-year old, 300-pound country girl and the groom is a 40-year old, 105 pound "dripping ass wet" man and they both love mud and trailers and mullets.

Brian just said, "This show kind of makes me miss Mississippi."

WHAT. Okay, just so y'all know, we are from a place where people do NOT regularly act like this. Or at least, not everybody acts like this. Brian clarified his statement by saying, "I mean people that are unique like this."

But still, WHAT.

Mississippi holds such interesting connotations for me. I have run the full gamut of emotions in my relationship with that state, and yet I know living there absolutely made me the person I am now. It is a place of both complete ignorance and total openmindedness. It is a place of bigotry and acceptance. I suppose, in a way, it is just like any other state, because you will find both terrible judgmental people and awesome, tolerant people. You will find selfish people and philanthropic people. You will find the Tamzen and Kevin's of the world (I'm sure they are very nice people), but you will also find crazy Millsaps professors cussing at their students and hosting classes in bars - and crazy Millsaps students who are the best people I've ever met in my life.

Brian and I will (most likely) be married in Jackson, Mississippi. I will take on a new name and a new role there. It seems fitting - I guess Mississippi isn't done making me the person I am yet.

P.s. Somehow I don't think our wedding will be featured on CMT, however.

look out, 2014 olympics..?

Y'all. Everything hurts.

Why you ask? (I'll pretend you asked.) Three words: Snow. Board. Ing.

Yeah, that's right. Shaun White and I don't just have red hair in common. We also shred major powder, brah.

Unfortunately, snowboarding requires both balance and coordination, two things I am lacking. Nearly entirely. Like, it's bad. I regularly run straight into coffee tables and doorframes and stumble over the slightest pebble or crack in the sidewalk.

So obviously, I am not the ultimate in 'boarding. I still love it though, so when Brian planned for us to hit the slopes I was pumped. And also a bit nervous, since the last time I had been skiing or snowboarding was when I took lessons in the eighth grade. The most memorable moment of those lessons is when I was boarding (slowly and awkwardly and always on the verge of falling) down the mountain and I heard a wolf whistle. I was not an overly popular middle schooler - or moderately popular middle schooler, in fact, so thinking that someone on the ski lift might possibly be whistling at me, I got really excited and lifted my arm to wave at who I thought was whistling... and BUSTED IT face first.

ANYWAY, so Saturday, after spending 45 minutes (no exaggeration) digging our vehicle out of the snow and ice pit it was in after three Boston snowstorms, we headed up to Nashoba Ski Valley for our snowventure. We got there just in time for the noon lesson. We were fitted and hustled out to the baby slopes, where we were met by a barely-pubescent teacher for an hour's worth of snowboarding lessons. Every time the sixteen-year-old snowboard "instructor" (aka kid who was exchanging an hour of teaching newbies for a day of hitting the slopes) had us doing a J-turn or a toe-side stop or whatever else, I bit it. Fell every time. And every time, as I sat in the snow, the pimply teacher and I met eyes and trilled, "Balance!"... And I thought, "heh heh, I'll JACK YOU UP, you punk kid."

Anyway again, we finished our lesson and went to take on the big hill. After falling epicly getting off the snow lift (the liftworker actually shut the whole thing down just to mock us specially), we strapped in and headed down the mountain.

And you know what? I didn't fall! And Brian did! Okay, that's only because I stuck with the easiest thing, the "falling leaf" maneuver where you board back and forth without turning around, while Brian tried to attempt the toe-side turns and turns and other real moves. But, can I just say that my technique led to me reaching the bottom of the mountain well before Brian, who at one point fell head over feet down the hill?? I can.

In the end, we both had a blast. Brian fell several times while attempting intense speeds and cool moves. I fell several times getting off the lift and trying to ease down the mountain at a snail's mph.

It. Was. Awesome.

And now, I. Can't. Move. Every muscle hurts. Mostly the buttocks. Also the shoulders and lower abs. But DAMN, Y'ALL, does my ass hurt.

When can we go again?!?

dreaming up a bestseller

I really wish I could record my dreams to watch later while conscious. I would have pure gold for any fiction novel I wanted to write down the road. The problem is I usually can't remember enough of it to make any sense. Here's what I remember from last night, for example: I dreamt I was in a to-the-death competition a la The Hunger Games... except in teams of five. One of my teammates was suspiciously like Hanna from Pretty Little Liars (don't judge, that shit is awesome). Anyway, first we took out one dude by turning loose on him some small furry chirping creature that literally chirped at him until he couldn't take it anymore. Then a bit later in the dream I died. But not to worry because I had cleverly copied myself and stored the second me in a sort of third level of existence (this part was very confused upon waking up - I guess it's like a way more sci fi version of Horcruxes?). Anyway, once the first me was dead, the second me came back down and met my contact whom I knew by the BREAKFAST FOODS HE SERVED ME.

See? Who could think of this?!? PURE GOLD.

embarrassment on the T

You can always tell the true Bostonians from the tourists on the subway. True Bostonians are usually clad in black and listening stoically to their ipods while reading or just generally avoiding all eye contact. They ride the train without stumbling, surprised by nothing.

At this point I consider myself a pretty legitimate resident of this city, but the subway ride is one thing I just can't quite master. I've got the black and I can avoid eye contact and I don't fall when it stops suddenly. I don't even have to look at the posted charts to know how many stops there are until my destination... No, it's the ipod that gets me.

It starts innocently enough. I stare out the window with the buds in-ear, stoic as any Bostonian. But by the Copley stop I'm nodding my head. By Arlington I'm mouthing the words. By Park Street I might accidentally be making noise or slip in a dance move or two. Before I know it, I am full-on shaking my ass to Cee Lo Green and people are staring.

I need to work on this.

snow day

It's a snow day! Yes, apparently even in Boston, with its jaded, snow-capable (or perhaps snow-weary?) citizens and tough, burly weather equipment, there comes a storm this city cannot quite cope with. Basically all schools and most workplaces are closed as the beautiful white dust falls on and on.

Brian (who is working from home due to the weather) and I took it upon ourselves to walk to the nearest open pub for lunch and some Guinness to get us through the storm. On the way back, being buffeted with wind and ice, Brian finally admitted, "You know, for someone from Mississippi, this is absolutely ridiculous." (Except he totally said something else besides "absolutely" - something that rhymes with "schucking"). 

And he's right, it is absurd. We went out to explore the snowy neighborhood when we got up this morning and by the time we had returned to our front stoop, barely 15 or 20 minutes later, our footsteps had been completely erased by newly fallen snow. But you know what? I love it. Having grown up in Utah, it's just in me. Every winter of my childhood there was a beautiful thick blanket of snow covered the entire city. When I was a kid, we brought two bags to school during the winter months: one was our backpack and the other was a duffel bag of snow gear. Every recess involved putting on snow overalls (usually big puffy ones in neon colors), snow boots, a big coat, gloves and a hat. Then we'd play in the snow, making forts and having snowball fights and god knows what else. Then we'd come in, remove our frozen outer layer and continue school. No big deal.

It's so weird to me that Mississippi kids never experienced this. "If the weather was bad enough to need any of that [snow gear]," Brian said on our walk, "we just wouldn't come to school."

As he's completely right: in ten years of school in Utah, I think we had three - maybe four - snow days, and on one of those we actually drove to school before we found out it was canceled because it was Ash Wednesday. In eight years of school (high school and college) in Mississippi, I think we had more than ten days off, including a whole week off in Jackson when the water pipes across almost the entire capital froze and burst. And those "snow" days more often than not ended up being a light dusting of snow that melted by 4:00 p.m... Mississippi is simply not adequately prepared for inclement weather. 

Which is why I'm so happy to be where I am. I love having four full seasons. And I love snow. And I love this city. 

Let's look at the snow!! These are from this morning around 9:30 a.m.:

Penny says, "What's all that white stuff?"

workers clearing the walks

Bay State Road

And these are from our return from lunch, around 2:30 p.m. (note the knee high and higher snow drifts):

compare this bicycle with the 9:30 a.m. one 

hip-high by the post office

auld lang syne*

Well here we are, another year gone by. 2010 was a great year - hard, but great - and 2011 is looking to be even BETTER. And even though I always make resolutions but hardly ever keep them, I still love the idea of starting a new year with plans to make yourself and your world better. Granted, most of these are about fitness, but hey, I need to be a hot bride in 2012!

So without further ado, in 2011, I resolve to....
Adopt a healthier lifestyle. This includes working out more, eating out less and cooking more/healthier foodz in the house (also part of our "be more budget-concious" initiative for the year).

On that note, maintain a better budget than last semester. We need to save some moneys for a sweet honeymoon!

Get better posture. I'm sick of looking like a deformed hunchback.

Keep up with world and local events, work harder on homework and improve writing.

Read 52 books this year, one book for every week (although I'm sure some weeks I'll read less and some more). It's time to cut back on the mindless internet surfing and marathons of CSI on TV and crack open some of the big beautiful works of literature I'm missing out on.

Find a place to volunteer in Boston. Preferably Habitat for Humanity. What can I say, I'm a beast with a nail gun.

No fast food. This is going to be the big experiment of the year. Despite knowing that it is disgustingly unhealthy and run by greedy corporations that use terrible, unsafe slaughterhouses and other bad ingredients, I STILL EAT IT. Why? Because it's cheap, fast and tastes good. But no more! Or hopefully no more. Brian and I are both resolving not to eat any fast food (not including Subway - I don't think I could resist the one next to the Communication building for a whole year) until 2012. And hopefully if we make it, we won't want it anymore anyway.

So check me out in 2012!
If you don't recognize me, I will be the one that looks like a Victoria's Secret model...

coincidentally, I also plan to start wearing wings and jeweled panties everywhere

the one that is as healthy as a mountain climber....

 the one that's as wealthy as this kid....

the one that has built hundreds of these....

 and the one that's working her way up the ranks here!

* Does anybody really know what "auld lang syne" is about? Or all the lyrics? I'm pretty sure 98% of people just drunkenly yell "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, dum da dum da dum blah blahhh!!!!" and then just mumble the rest. No one knows it. 

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

my true love gave to me

twelve glorious moustaches! 

Yeah yeah yeah, Christmas is over. BUT I just read today that traditionally the twelve days of Christmas actually starts ON Christmas and continues for a week and a half hence. So actually, I've been way ahead of schedule on these blogs, bitches!! And since today is the 12th day since Christmas, I am still on time. 

Anyway, there's not much that a person could need twelve of, or give to twelve of their friends. But there is one thing you can never have too much of... MOUSTACHES. Not much to say about it, just bask in their gloriousness. 

 

...eleven advil tablets

ten finger puppets
nine awesome apps

eight catnip eyeballs

seven Anthropologie aprons

six fannypacks for your head

FIVE POTTER PRESENTS

four snuggie knockoffs

three Ed Hardy hookahs

two handerpants

and an ooooooornameeeeeeent of yummmmmmmy suuuuuuuuushiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!

 Category(s): ridiculous, awesome

(Find them HERE from top to bottom: glasses, TOMS, chip clip, dog toy, party tashes, snowglobe, man bucket, framed stache, white shirt, carrot, mac staches, incognito dress)

RINGing in the New Year... get it??

I had a whole New Year's resolutions post to write, but it will have to wait because I'm MUCH too busy looking at the new sparkly addition to my left hand! Yes, Brian and I are engaged!! He popped the question on January 2nd, starting 2011 off on the most blissful, happy, perfect foot.

Although this picture was taken a couple days before the proposal, I think it adequately sums up my feelings: