Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Monday, March 31, 2008
“You’re too gross to do a shot off MY tatters.” *

(A summary of the Bower-Mollin wedding)

So, the wedding to end all weddings, right? I don’t even know where to start other than to say it truly was a fantastic night, full of joy and love, great friends, designer couture and all the free booze you could handle (as long as the bartenders were at their posts—whut up with dat, Ben-ha-meen? Like, every time the band went on break, so did the barkeeps.) Ben wore the hell out of his ascot, suit and silverish pimp shoes, of course, but Ann?

How ‘bout I just show you:

image
Ok, she doesn’t have a head in this shot,
but you had to see the back of the gown first
to get just how gorgeous it was. (Standing
next to her is her son, Lathan, who cut quite
a dashing figure in his mini-tux.)

Not good enough? Then how ‘bout this:

image
This was taken after mucho drinkage,
and she STILL looks unbelievable.
I, on the other hand, had started wilting
at that point.

Lessee, what else? Oooo! Here’s a cool shot of the Hava Nagila that killed my feet and knees:

image
Ben’s momma and pop sang it.

image
My seester and I as she took a break from
all that shooting (and man, did she get some
awesome shots.) (And if you’re thinking we
don’t look that much alike, you’re correct. I
got all the Eastern European features, while she
got the pretty skin that tans.)

image
Thas righ, Reality TV sneetchez! That most certainly
IS Steven Rosengard of Project Runway Cycle 4.
That’s who designed Ann’s incredible dress and day-before
wedding ensemble, which was equally sharp. (The hot chick
is Girlie, who accompanied me.)

image
Joe Winters and me. Don’t he clean up nice?

image
After Girlie and I split the reception, our presence
was requested at a local benefit at the Hobar
American Legion, where we ran into this cat,
the infamous Randy Anderson ("Buck Daddy”
to his musical fans). Evidently Randy doesn’t
remember ever seeing me without my specs,
because he kept marveling at my eyes the whole time.

And so as not to give you the impression that the wedding was all about me even though I acted like it with all that prep and planning my outfit, here’s one of my favorite moments of the night:

image
Right after the three of them walked out to
the chorus of “Come Sail Away” by Styx, Ben
yanked Lathan up and swung him around.

My other favorite moment was in the video of the wedding: The moment the judge told Ben to kiss his bride, the sheer elation on their faces was proof enough that they’re going to be a couple for the ages. You don’t see love like that often, and it’s always so breathtaking to see.

And then I started doing a little jig at the bar.


Posted by Broad8:12 PM
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Another snapshot from last night
I don’t know, but it was like everywhere you walked, it was all b00bs.

-- Girlie, swearing up and down that my tatters kept causing a commotion during the reception. I remember nothing of the sort.

Posted by Broad7:14 PM
There’s a reason I don’t wear heels often

and as such Ima hit the couch for a nap on a dreary Sunday afternoon regardless of the fact that I probably picked up tetanus walking through the American Legion barefoot this morning. Full wedding day story TK, but here’s a teaser since I gave it such a build-up:


Posted by Broad9:50 AM
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Ok, y’all?

It’s snowing AND thunderstorming out here right now.

Figure THAT one out.


Posted by Broad3:57 PM
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Oh, oh OOOOOH! Fine by me!

Apropos of nothing, have any of y’all seen that new Burger King commercial about the cheesy tots? The one about “Morning Tongue?” Pretty darn funny.

Been having kind of purging spree the past few days, both physically and emotionally, and gotta tell you, who knew cleaning could be therapeutic in that regard? (I did. No, seriously—I even wrote a short story about getting rid of a toxic boyfriend compared with cleaning the shower when I was 19. Got published in the college lit mag and everything! Of course, life didn’t imitate art for another three or so years, but you know ...) Got the bathroom and kitchen scrubbed down spic n’ span and am now working on the mess that is the living room. Now if the laundry will just stay in the hallway and not revolt, I might get Chez Broad up and running again.


Posted by Broad7:29 PM
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Evidently wad hasn’t logged enough time in strip joints

or was watching the wrong things if he has, because he clearly does not know from stripper shoes. Therefore, a visual:

image
These are stripper shoes.

image
These are my shoes.

image
Striiiiiipper ...

image
Nooooooot stripper


Posted by Broad11:52 AM
Monday, March 24, 2008
Yes, Johnny Depp is in NWI*

No, I have NOT been asked to cover his glorious, uber-hotness. At least, not yet. But I’m not above begging ...


Posted by Broad9:28 PM
Sunday, March 23, 2008
“If I wanna ‘50s up this bitch, what do I need to do?”

image

This wild and wonderful pattern right here is my new dress, which came in over the weekend, and I have to say, it’s even BETTER than what I imagined, and not just because I have to have it taken in. (No no, giving up Pepsi for the last week has NOT made me lose a shit-ton of weight, though it has helped some. I ended up buying a size too big.) It’s SO cute that the first thing I thought when I tried it on is, “You know what would be REALLY be fun? If I wear a big ol’ petticoat underneath and rock a whole ‘50s vibe.” I mean, I bought the shrug, and Mother’s got this 3-strand choker of ginormous pearls—it’d be totally cool and so not out-of-place since it’s an eclectic bunch anyway. Now, I just have scour bridal shops to find a petticoat short enough to go underneath. And make sure that when I do find one, I don’t end up looking like a big-assed dork with stumpy legs, as is the wont in my gene pool.

But you can’t do ‘50s garb without rockin’ ‘50s style hair, so I said to Ben as he was chopping about 2 inches off my hot mess yesterday (they got me in early, hooray!), “So, if I wanna ‘50s up this bitch, what do I need to do?” He stopped and said, “Did you just say, ‘ ‘50s up this bitch?’ Because that’s the fuckin’ funniest thing ever.” And then he and Ann agreed that I’ll need to rat the hell out of the back of it if I decide to “ ‘50s up this bitch.’ “ In the meantime, the result of their efforts is below the fold:


Posted by Broad8:41 PM
Friday, March 21, 2008
Let’s get ph(ilosophical)

If you try to live your life by the “Accept things as they are, not how you want them to be” paradigm but also “The law of attraction” paradigm (wherein you put out into the universe exactly what you want and how you want it, etc.), how exactly do you reconcile the two?

This is the shit I think about when I’m lying on the couch stuffed-up, miserable and weepy, but then I get bored and don’t process it all the way through. Also, I had a dream this morning that I SWORE I was going to write about, but then I fell back asleep and forgot it.


Posted by Broad7:57 AM
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Holier than thou-ist

I was going to tell y’all about having to cover a live rendition of The Last Supper tonight and how their communion crackers were the size of Chiclets, but after talking to the performers and seeing how earnest they are, can’t bring myself to be snide about it. Hell, I even refrained from imbibing the shot glass of “wine” after passing on the Chiclet, and I was tempted!


Posted by Broad8:15 PM
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tea party

I’ve talked about my sister’s mad picture-taking skillz before, but I have to say I’m in awe of this one:

image

It’s Lulu Buttons, and it was taken as the tea party (with a genuine butler and everything, might I add) she attended this past Sunday was winding down. It’s killing me how grown up and gorgeous she is already, and could you just DIE over the dress!??

Why yes, my sister DOES take pictures professionally. If you local people want the hook-up, lemeno.


Posted by Broad6:22 PM
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Holy Freddie Prinze Jr.! She’s coming back, taking names this time

Man, look at li’l ol’ prolific me these days. I’m kinda scaring myself with all this posting, but this bit of news is exciting because, well, it just is --


I just got off the phone with Mer. Yes, that Mer, she of the nightmare hookups, super-scary vaykays and mad brilliant repartee that never fails to crack my shit up. First time in, oh, four months, maybe? Something like that. It was fall, I know.


Anyway, she’s gotten her shit together (as much as it can be with Rebecca still hanging off her jock) and in August is moving to Tel Aviv for two years to teach. So THAT means SHE’LL BE COMING HERE FOR ONE LAST VISIT! Huzzah! Yes, I know last time was a disaster of epic proportions—one that I never care to experience ever again—but without all the collective baggage there was during that visit, I‘m going to tell myself that don’t think I need to worry about a repeat, and we can spend all our time laughing and having fun. (And trashing the crib, because we ALWAYS do a really good job of that.) AND since Israel’s one of those places I’ve always wanted to see, I now have something cool to save toward.

You know, it’s funny, because I honestly was just thinking about how much I missed her yesterday, but she beat me to the punch. I love when peace is made. Best feeling in the world.

What is NOT the best feeling, however, is whatever’s going on in my throat and head right now. I’m going to be PISSED if I’m getting the death flu, though it might explain why I’ve been so squirrelly and weird lately.

[PS I forgot to mention that she’s talking about coming in April over her spring break. It won’t be summertime where we can REALLY get into trouble, but start saving your pennies for bail regardless.]


Posted by Broad8:50 PM
But I don’t WANNA look like a soccer mom

Ever since the new neighbors moved in downstairs, condom wrappers have littered the cul-de-sac in front of the crib. I’m kinda thinking to myself, “Uh, I know car sex is fun and all, but when you’re doing it in front of the crib you just moved into, doesn’t it sort of lose its appeal? I mean, just sayin’.”

So I’ve been crabbin’ to everyone who’ll listen, as well as to those who’d rather not, about my hair and how much I’d really like to shave it off my head, except that I can’t because the wedding’s next week, and though baldness would certainly be not inappropriate, it’s kinda not the look I was hoping for. The look I have now, however, is equally distasteful: Ben has had me growing it out since September, and now it’s jaw-length in back and just past my chin in front, and up until about a week ago, it was working out. Couldn’t get it as smooth as he or his gorgeous Bride-to-Be can, but I could at least get it close.

Now? It’s too heavy, and what used to take 10 minutes tops to dry now takes 20-30 and won’t blow completely straight. But instead of curls, I get what I like to call “the bends” (pretty self-explanatory), and the only way I can make it not look super-dumb is by tucking it behind my ears. Bottom line: I look like Marilyn Quayle with honey-colored bangs that have roots. How you like me NAO!??


Posted by Broad11:48 AM
Monday, March 17, 2008
Jezebel did it so I don’t have to

And I was just contemplating this, too, or something very similar: Lookit


Posted by Broad7:17 PM
Sunday, March 16, 2008
When people are cute enough that you don’t have to shoot them

After a good two or three months of minutes upon minutes of searching, driving the committee batshit with options and finally reaching out to the Innerbunny for guidance, I finally purchased my dress for the Wedding of the Year Saturday.

And it wasn’t anything on the list.

I know: We all decided that No. 1 of my last three choices was the one, and I agree wholeheartedly. However, that dress is much too gorgeous to tastefully cover with a shrug or wrap, and I gotta be honest, Homie ain’t ready to bear her arms in something sleeveless yet. My final choice, on the other hand, will look equally good with or without a shrug. My final choice was also $110 cheaper, and for someone who doesn’t have to dress up often, it makes much more sense, and then I can spend my hard-earned dough on more worthwhile pursuits, like yesterday’s $60 Target purchase comprised mostly of pedicure tools. (Nooooooo, my feet are NOT that gross; they’re not gross at all considering how rarely I wear socks. I’m a girl, and it was Target, and everyone knows that girls cannot go into Target without getting distracted by all the products and gewgaws of Target. Simple genetics, really.) Speaking of which, next up on the decision-making for Operation Look Hot: the right shade of nude/buff nail polish that will be visible yet not make sallow yellow me look like a corpse for said pedicure. You think the dress business was a pain in the ass? We’ve got two weeks, people!

So I didn’t end up having company this weekend, which was ultimately good because I have a metric shit-ton of laundry that keeps mocking me while I zip out hither and yon, and nobody outside my inner sanctum needs to see a metric shit-ton of laundry piled outside my bathroom. (My inner sanctum probably doesn’t either, but they know and love me, so it’s cool, at least in my mind.) But can I just tell you that people in their 20s crack me up? Caught up with a pal a few weeks ago when I was working on a story, and he said he wanted to get together this weekend. Plans weren’t set in stone or anything, but it seemed like a good possibility, and one that I was looking forward to since he’s truly one of the most genuinely nice people I know and certainly the most happy-go-lucky, and God knows I desperately need some happy-go-lucky energy after the last few weeks—no, months if you count the nightmare with Mother. Anyway, whilst sitting through possibly the most boring assignment EVER (good CHRIST it was bad) I shot him a text to firm up plans and whatnot, but I didn’t hear anything. Later that night, I logged into Facebook.

Now, for those who aren’t on Facebook, it takes users to a “home” page when they log in that tells what their friends are up to in terms of who’s friended who and whatever apps they’re using and stuff. Most people go straight to their profiles; I usually get sidetracked by words—it’s a habit, one so ingrained that TOG used to hand me reading material wherever we were because I would just find it and start reading anyway—so as I’m reading I notice he has plans for the High Holiday. I click on it, and it’s an out-of-town pub crawl celebration starting Saturday and ending Sunday.

[I’m going to sidebar here for a moment to reveal the one pet peeve I have that will do serious collateral damage to, if not downright destroy, any relationship of mine: Making plans that fall through without a legitimate reason or breaking plans without at least two days’ notice—especially more than once, mmmmmmmaybe twice if I’m feeling charitable. Been seriously burned one too many times to just let that roll.]

That said, he and I weren’t set in stone, so it didn’t bother me. Besides, I had other things to do (like laundry, which I didn’t, but other cool things).

Friday, I’m wrapping up my story for the day and getting ready to head out the door to drink on the company’s dime when he texts me back telling me he’s out of town.

Visiting his grandparents.

(blinks) Um.

My first thought was, “(snerk) Uh, Baby? Do you not know how Facebook works?” but then I thought nah, why be an ass when it’s so darn cute that he evidently thought I’d be pissed at him for doing what 20-somethings do. Or maybe he was going to the pub crawl as an incidental to visiting his grandparents. I don’t know, whatever. I just thought it was funny in a precious kind of way.


Posted by Broad10:01 PM
Page 1 of 2 pages  1 2 >
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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