Unlucky 13

Blech. What a bust last nite was. I was supposed to meet a couple of girlfriends (and their respective boy toys) for some drinks and fun, but instead got home before midnite feeling like a big fat loser.

The original plan was to head to Bier Markt (where there are always cute boys), but after one of our friends dropped out because she and her hubs were sick, the plan changed and I went south (Strongsville) to meet up with my other friend.

Friend #2 was heading out with a guy she recently started hanging out with, and his friends were staying closer to their houses. So I agreed to meet them there (since it was just little ol' me coming from the West side).

What I didn't know was that I was heading into Couples Central. (Side note: the bar was apparently also Mullet Central.) As in, I was the 13th wheel. Literally.

While I have grown accustomed to being a fifth or seventh wheel, being the thirteenth wheel was a new low. And on top of that, I only knew my friend out of that group. (Usually when I'm hanging out with couples, I am friends with all of them so it's not that big of a deal.)

While no one would ever accuse me of being shy, it's not easy to come into a situation where you know only one person... and that person has googly eyes over some new guy.

I tried to make the best of it for a couple of hours by chatting up several of the new peeps I met. (I love meeting new people!) That was fun for a while, but the more the beer flowed, the more the couples started... well... coupling up.

So, I said my goodbyes, hopped in the car and headed home. Two's company, but thirteen is definitely a crowd.

And guess what song came on about two seconds after I pulled out of the parking lot? That's right. This one.

P.S. And in case you're wondering, the first Nick never made it out last nite. (Not that he was the reason I was going. But it would have been nice to at least have someone to talk to... who didn't have a mullet.)

In the Nick of time

Anyone who reads this blog fairly regularly knows that I never use any guys' real names here (to protect the innocent -- and the guilty).

But I felt compelled to write this entry using real names -- actually, just real first names -- because what is happening right now is just a little too creepy.

I will keep details very vague at this point in case I end up blogging about any of these guys in future posts with their new "fake" names (e.g., The Something-or-Other).

But I think you will see why I am so creeped out when you read the three scenarios below:

• A friend I used to work with emailed me about a week or so ago because she wants to fix me up with her friend's brother. (He and I have since exchanged voicemails, but haven't yet connected in person.) His name is Nick.


• Another friend emailed me tonite to finalize our plans for tomorrow. She mentioned that some guy might be meeting us out for the purpose of meeting me. His name is Nick.


• My sister texted me from her husband's high school reunion tonite (about an hour after I got the email from my friend above) with a pic of a really cute guy captioned "Your husband." His name is... you guessed it!... Nick.

What does all of this mean? I don't know. Maybe nothing!

But is it at all weird that St. Nicholas is supposedly the patron saint of single women? (Check out this blog post for details.) I don't know.

And is it weird that good ol' St. Nick is as far as the eye can see right now (the mall, the television, the papers)? I don't know.

What do I know? This is gonna be a confusing couple of weeks for me. Wow.

*** UPDATE *** UPDATE *** UPDATE ***

I confirmed with my mother that my name was supposed to be Nicholas until I was born missing the requisite... ummm... appendage.

And, I had a dream about Nick Jonas last nite. (Who's creepy now?)

These guys are all turkeys

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I know I haven't written about many boy interactions lately because... well... there haven't been a lot to talk about.

(That's sort of a lie. I was preoccupied with Molly's wedding and some other stuff going on.)

But, in the case that you are looking for some easy reading to lull you into your Turkey Day tryptophan nap, here's a quick rundown of some of the lame (read: sad, boring and going nowhere) boy encounters I've had over the past couple of weeks:

• The Cop Facebook friended me. I accepted the request, but didn't do anything after that. Then I got a FB message from him a few days later that said, "You should call me sometime. Or text." Oh, yes, Cop. That has the makings of the start of an awesome new relationship.


• The Lawyer apparently did not get the hint after I ditched out on the prom. He called last week, but I was in Target (where my phone never works) so I missed the call. Then I got wrapped up in Molly's wedding stuff and never called him back. (Not that I really wanted to anyhow... if it were someone I really liked, I think I would have found the time to call.) THEN, I got an email from him earlier this week just checking in. UGH.


• I got cornered by The Chef at Molly's rehearsal dinner, but I think he's relatively harmless at this point. However, he did block my path to the bathroom -- literally -- then walked me to the bathroom (and seemingly almost came in!).


• The Banker just sent a text that said, "Happy Thanksgiving! Gobble gobble!!!" WTF? I haven't talked to him since the '60s. Plus, I'm fairly certain this was one of those mass texts that he probs sent to every girl in his phone. I think he's just looking for someone to stuff this Thanksgiving, if you know what I mean. Sorry, Banker.

Thankfully, there are a couple of new prospects on the horizon (most of whom I haven't even talked to yet -- they are finders' fee potentials). Let's hope they aren't turkeys too.

Note: one of the new potentials is a referral from a girl who once fixed up my friend Michele with a guy who wore jorts (jean shorts), pump tennis shoes and a concert tee on their first (and only) date. So, if nothing else, this should make for some good blog reading if it doesn't work out. Stay tuned!

What celebrity would you take to Thanksgiving dinner?

Apparently an online dating service recently did a survey of singles to find out which celebrity they'd most like to bring as a Thanksgiving dinner date.

The winners? Guys chose Jennifer Aniston and girls chose George Clooney. Click here for the full list of top choices.

I actually quite like the Clooney suggestion because he is supposed to be a huge prankster, which seems fun (provided he's not playing any jokes on me). And, he's not too bad on the eyes either. (Unless you're talking about this heinous pic, which I can not stop laughing about.)

But Jennifer Aniston? While I covet her hair and physique, I think she actually seems quite boring otherwise. She barely smiles and probably barely eats (then again, that would mean more food for her date on Turkey Day).

So if you were single and could bring a celebrity home for Thanksgiving dinner, who would it be? My top choices:

• Josh Duhamel - totes hot, is funny and would probably know all the words to Glamorous


• Justin Timberlake - totes hot, is funny and can entertain me after dinner (hopefully with back-up dancing skills similar to his recent guest stint on SNL)


• Paul Rudd - totes hot, is funny and can re-enact scenes from Clueless with me after dinner


• Adam Levine - totes hot. Not sure if he's funny. But something about him is just really delicious. (But not as delicious as blogaunt's special recipe stuffing.)

Sensing a theme? Hot and funny. Got it?

Note to anyone I'll see on or around Turkey Day: No, I am not dating anyone. So please don't bother asking. Unless you want one of those turkey drumsticks shoved somewhere that is going to be painful for both of us.

My new anthem

I. AM. OBSESSED.

Seriously. I can't stop listening to "Single Ladies" by Beyonce/Sasha/Mrs. Jay-Z/whatever the hell name she's going by these days.

Appropriate, no? I mean, I am painfully single right now. In fact, I was the only single bridesmaid in the wedding this weekend, and one of the only single girls at the wedding PERIOD.

(However, I did have several folks interested in getting in on the finders' fee action at the wedding. Interesting. Stay tuned on that one.)

Til then, I am going to continue blaring Ms. Beyonce's song on my computer, on my iPod, in my car and anywhere else I can get my ears on it.

Now I just gotta me some of those Dereon jeans.

(Hey, it sounds like it works for Miss B.: I got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips, got me tighter than my Dereon jeans.)

We survived! (But the bag didn't.)

What a fun, fun time Molly & Drew's wedding was. The bride looked gorge, the wedding party was super fun and the new Mr. & Mrs. looked so incredibly happy. YEAH!

And, the survival kit got LOTS of use yesterday.

I love being the bridesmaid in charge of "fixing" people's problems. Whether it's taking care of a stomach ache, helping out with unexpected "lady problems" or chalking over a stain on the bride's dress, my self-made wedding day survival kit bag has made its rounds through nearly all of the weddings I've been in.

(Well, the contents have. The bag has been replaced a couple of times. That stuff is HEAVY.)

Let's take a gander at what was used yesterday:

• SAFETY PINS. Carrie and I each had wardrobe malfunctions and needed pins to holster our bra straps into our dresses.


• TISSUES. Molly asked for a couple of them before the loooooong trip down the aisle. She then proceeded to shove them into Drew's pocket right before they exchanged their vows. (Note: He had to take the tissues out of his pocket about 4 seconds later when they both got a little teary. Awww.)


• HAIRSPRAY & MIRROR. Duh. However, Carrie also got resourceful with the hairspray and reattached a runaway fake eyelash using some. That was crafty.


• BOBBY PINS. All of the bridemaids' hair was super cute yesterday (thanks to Kelly!), but most of the styles required a lot of bobby pins. The more everyone moved/danced, the more the supply in the bag dwindled.


• ASPIRIN. I got a killer headache right after the ceremony (I forgot to have caffeine in the a.m. -- duh), so I popped three pills (and a Red Bull... which may or may not have had some vodka in it) and was good to go.


• DEODORANT. Some of us were so cold, we were sweating. I know that sounds like it makes no sense, but it happened. Thank goodness for the cucumber scented Dove.


• EVIAN SPRAY. A couple of the groomsmen were feeling schivatz after a long day of drinking, so a few quick sprays from the Evian toner/refresher spray and they were ready to break it down. (Literally. One of the guys at the wedding was break dancing.)


• PLASTIC BABUSHKA. We didn't really need this at all yesterday (it was cold, but not rainy), but Drew put it on during pictures to keep some of us girls entertained during "down" times.

Unfortunately, the survival kit bag itself did not fare so well. As in, it completely busted open.

But I just think that means even the bag was so happy for the newly married couple that it was busting at the seams. ;)

Now I have to go see if I've got anything in there for dancing injuries. Apparently your dear Always A Bridesmaid thought it was a good idea to do the splits. On the dance floor. In my bridesmaid dress.

And I'm paying for it today.

You only love me for my dough

I know I outlined a very busy few days yesterday, but I had a change in plans tonite and ended up getting home sooner than expected. So, I took advantage of those found hours and started on Project Pep Bread.

I sometimes wonder if the only reason I get asked to be in weddings nowadays is because everyone knows it's become sort of my "thing" to make pepperoni bread for snacking on while crusing around in the party bus.

I guess it's my little "thank you" of sorts to the bride and groom for having me in their wedding. (And, to be honest, it may also be a teeny selfish ploy to win over the hearts -- and stomachs -- of any single groomsmen.)

Here's how to make pepperoni bread (whether you're a bridesmaid or not):

• THE INGREDIENTS (per loaf): 1/4 pound pepperoni, bag of shredded cheese, fresh (not frozen) dough (I usually buy unbaked crusts from local pizza joints, but grocery stores often sell fresh dough in the deli area), melted butter


• THE PREP: Coat a cookie pan with cooking spray. Knead/push out the dough to the edges of the pan (all around). Cover dough with cheese. Cover cheese with pepperoni. Roll into a "log" shape (keep it longer vs. wider... that's what she said). Make sure the seam is on the bottom before baking. Brush with melted butter.


• THE BAKING: Bake in a 375-degree oven for about half an hour (or until the bread looks golden). Let cool and cut into slices.


• THE EATING: Enjoy with a cold beer or glass of bubbly. NOTE: in the unfortunate chance that any pepperoni grease gets on the bride's gown during this stage, use a Shout Wipe to dab it out. Proven remedy.

Could not be easier. Or more yummy.

Now I just have to figure out how to resist the urge to devour the three loaves that are bubbling up in the oven right now.

(OK, maybe I'll have ooooonnnnneeee little piece... just to make sure it tastes ok, alright? Back off.)

***** U P D A T E *****

Confirmation on the delicious factor. Had two pieces once the loaves cooled last nite (for quality control purposes, of course).

The countdown is ON!

I can't even imagine how much stuff Molly has going on this week to prep for the wedding, considering I am a mere bridesmaid and feel like I'll never get everything done.

TONITE:

• Go to Jazzercise (or "cardio class," if you are a cute single boy reading this) to get my stamina up for dancing.


• Stop at Target for a couple of final supplies for the "wedding day survival kit."


• Pop into Heinen's to get the stuff to make pepperoni bread for the party bus.


• Hit up Crocker (if I have time) to get a new bra to wear for the Big Day and a bday present for my brother-in-law.


• Grab 15 minutes in a tanning booth. (I know it's bad for me. But so is feeling like a giant white blob in pictures, so deal with it.)


• Curl my extensions. (Looks like the winning hairstyle is going to be Option 1!)

TOMORROW NITE:

• Have a work thing to go to, so I probably won't have much time to do wedding-related stuff. But, I might have to bust out early if I don't get everything done tonite.

FRIDAY:

• Hit up a morning Jazzercise/cardio class to sweat off drinking from my work event and get my arms (which I will inevitably flex and kiss several times throughout the nite on Saturday) in tip-top shape.


• Make pepperoni bread (three loaves).


• Get a mani and pedi (we are wearing open toed shoes, so I MUST!).


• Attend wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner (at Fahrenheit - YUM!). BTW, this has the potential to be VERY awkward considering this post.

On the bright side, I no longer need to make a list of things I need to do, since it's all right here!

Hair Ye, Hair Ye

Heading into Molly's wedding week, I have some big decisions ahead of me: what color should I do my nails? how many loaves of pepperoni bread should I make for the party bus? And perhaps most important -- how should I wear my hair?!?!?!?

(BTW, I realize these decisions are all totally silly when considering the economic crisis, global warming and the fact that Spencer & Heidi continue to be news stories. But let's escape for a moment, shall we?)

Something to note: I own clip-in hair extensions that I have worn in nearly every wedding I've been in. (My natural length is a bit past my shoulders.) The extensions are a nearly perfect match for my highlighted hair, and they're made from real hair so I don't look like a Barbie doll. (Or like that Kim chic on The Real Housewives of Atlanta.)

I already have some ideas for what I might do on Saturday, but thought I'd ask what you guys think.

Let's take a gander.

OPTION 1: Cute low curled side pony worn on the opposite side of the bangs

OPTION 2: Cute low curled side pony worn on the same side as the bangs (the ponytail in the pic below is a bit too crimped for my taste... imagine the pony like Lauren's above)

OPTION 3: Half up, half down worn curly (note: this option may involve me clipping a small group of bangs straight back vs. down the middle as is modeled by Ms. Electra here)

OPTION 4: An homage to wildlife (yes, that is really hair formed into the shape of a bear's head)

What do you think? Really, I'd be happy with any of them (OK, maybe not the bear on the brain one -- seriously, WTF is up with that one?!?), but I'm leaning toward Option 1.


HELP!?!? Vote in the poll or leave a comment.

To LBD or not to LBD

Before I decided not to go to the prom with The Lawyer, I ordered an assload of dresses from Nordstrom because I couldn't find anything I liked in person.

I knew I wanted to wear black (perhaps because I had already planned to be in mourning that nite, had I gone). And I didn't have any back-up wedding dresses to choose from because nearly all of the dresses I've worn to weddings lately have been bridesmaid dresses.

But by the time I decided not to go to prom, it was too late to cancel my order. So I got the package at work last Friday and tried on the dresses over the weekend.

Now I'm thinking of keeping this one, since it fits me really well and I know I have at least two weddings to go to next year that I actually get to pick my own dress for! (Read: I'm not a bridesmaid!)

But I'm a tad torn. Does the organza and/or bubble skirt make it a little too trendy? Will it be completely out of style by next summer? (If you want to get a closer look at the dress, click here.)

A girl can never have too many LBDs, can she? Or maybe this just means I actually need to do something fun/out on the town this year for New Year's Eve so I can wear it and be certain it won't be out of style yet. (More about how much I hate NYE in a future post.)

What do you think?

"So are you bringing Brissy with you?"

Just got off the phone with my parents. Among other things, we talked about Molly and Drew's upcoming wedding. (My parents, sisters and bros-in-law are all going.)

Here's how the conversation went down:

BLOGDAD: The weather is supposed to blow this week.

ME: I know. But I checked the weather for next Saturday and it's supposed to stop snowing and be a little warmer.

BLOGMOM (in the background, yelling thru blogdad): Where are you going for pictures?

ME: I don't know. (Which is a bit of a lie... but there are a few potential wedding pic places and I just sort of didn't feel like getting into it, especially since it was going to involve a lot of relayed info going back and forth thru blogdad.)

BLOGDAD: So are you bringing Brissy with you? (NOTE: Brissy is our gay family friend who we have basically adopted as a brother. But since he's gay, he's actually more like a sister. So, we call him Brissy -- half brother, half sister.)

ME: No, he has to work until 7, then would have to go home and get ready. (NOTE: While it sucks that Brissy can't come because he's working, he's still doing my makeup that day. He is an AMAZING makeup artist.)

BLOGDAD: Oh, yeah, that would never work. He takes forever to get ready. (Note: Why do I find it so funny that blogdad immediately realized Brissy would take too long to get ready to make it to the wedding in time?) Well, we'll still have fun without him.

Why do I share this conversation with you? Because. I had a revelation.

I am the family member who always has the gay guy as her date because she's perpetually single for important friend/family weddings. OMG.

I mean, that's not always a bad thing. My makeup is always flawless. I never have an errant bra strap showing. And my date puts Chris Brown to shame on the dance floor.

In reality, it is much more fun to have Brissy (or another gay friend -- I have plenty!) as a wedding date, but unfortunately it just ain't gonna happen this time. But, I guess there is one good thing about Brissy not being able to come with me next Saturday... one less person to compete with for any of the single guys at the reception!

It's in the (hand)bag!

I've been remiss in posting poll questions for a couple of weeks. Sorry!

This week's question is a follow-up to a conversation I had with a friend the other nite. While telling a group of people about the finders' fee, I mentioned to Allison (who is a fashionista) that I would make the finders' fee a cute Louis Vuitton purse (vs. straight cash) if she found me a man.

And that's all it took. The next day, I had a message in my inbox with two pics of her cousin, some basic info about him -- even some suggested meet-up locations!

Moral of the story? I'm willing to adjust the finders' fee to be something that would be custom-tailored to you.

As long as the guy you suggest is custom-tailored for me. :)

OK, this is just getting embarrassing now

I received a package at work this week asking me to be auctioned off in a bachelor/bachelorette event to benefit a local nonprofit.

Apparently, I have become Cleveland's poster child for "eligible singles" opportunities.

First, there was the Cleveland Magazine "20 Sexy Singles" article a couple of years ago.

Then there was the Plain Dealer article earlier this year about Cleveland's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes.

And now, THIS request. How have I suddenly become the go-to bachelorette for these things?

And I'm not writing to brag about being picked for this stuff. I promise you -- I really am not.

In fact, I find them rather embarrassing. On one hand, it is flattering to be nominated (albeit by sisters/parents/friends who just want to see me coupled up already) and featured in "hot singles" lists. (If George Clooney can do it, why can't I?)

On the other, it is sort of demoralizing to be the chic who keeps getting picked for these things because everyone thinks you're a great catch -- but, still, you somehow manage to stay single. I'm like the freaking Cameron Diaz of Cleveland! (OK... not quite... but a girl can dream, no?)

Long story short: both times I've done these "singles" articles, it hasn't worked out AT ALL. Picked up a couple of Creepy McCreepertons, reconnected with a couple of high school friends and ended up with a couple of random pseudo-stalkers. (Check out my posts about The Murse 2.)

And to be perfectly honest, I don't think I can put myself through that humiliation again. (Looks sort of desperate to keep popping up in these things, no?)

So instead of raffling myself off, I'm going to support the charity by writing a check... and keeping my dignity.

(Which could be my safest option anyhow, since I still don't know who The Creepy Texter is!)

Strange encounters of the digital kind

I have had some STRANGE encounters of the digital kind over the past several weeks.

First, there was the guy who Facebook friended me who I didn't know.

Here's how it went down: my friend Amy at work sent a pic of a bunch of us to her hubby; her hubby showed the pic to his friend from work; the friend from work (the guy who I'm talking about -- we'll call him The Engineer) claimed he knew me, and asked Amy's husband a zillion questions about me.

Weeks later, The Engineer Facebook friended me. Mind you, I still have NO IDEA who this guy is at this point (and, actually, still don't). When I didn't immediately accept his friend request, he asked Amy's hubby why I hadn't accepted him yet. So, I hit "confirm" just to get it over and done with already.

Of course, because I don't know him, I never sent a message or anything after accepting his friend request. A couple of weeks later, The Engineer wrote on my wall and just said, "I can't believe you haven't said hello yet." WTF? I don't even KNOW you. And if you wanted to get to know me so badly, why wouldn't YOU say something first?

Since then, he has sent me a couple other messages (commenting on status updates, my Halloween costume, etc.). And he's also apparently told Amy's husband that he can't understand why I haven't asked him out yet.

Gee, I wonder.

Then, I got a much creepier message.

This time, I received a text message from someone who wasn't in my phone. The sender's address was "HI." Like, whoever sent me the message purposely overwrote their phone number so I couldn't see it, then replaced it with "HI." And so was born The Creepy Texter.

Then I read the message: "Always a Bridesmaid! You are dressed nice today. Love that blouse!"

A few things to comment on:

• The Creepy Texter knew my name. And purposely didn't want me to know his (or hers???).


• The Creepy Texter HAD to have seen me that day. I know, I know. You could say that anyone could guess I was wearing a blouse based on what most girls wear to work. But the truth is, I was wearing a very obvious blouse. One that you WOULD comment on. Not just a plain blue shirt or something. And how did he know I wasn't wearing a sweater or a dress?


• The Creepy Texter used the word "blouse." That in and of itself is creepy. What boy says "blouse?"

After fearing for the entire weekend that I was going to be chopped up into little pieces, I decided (and still HOPE) this was just someone I know playing a prank on me.

But, whoever it was has good taste. I do look cute in that blouse. :)

The countdown is on!

T-minus 11 days until my next bridesmaid duty for Molly & Drew's wedding. (I was reminded this morning when my official wedding day itinerary arrived.)

I am super excited. Why?

• I love our dresses. Steel gray babydoll/empire waist silk dupioni dress with a cute black sash. (Truth be told, I don't actually have mine yet. It's being taken in for the second time. The first time I tried it on, it was literally like I wrapped myself in a duvet cover. So it's taken a couple of rounds of alterations to make it fit. And I didn't blog about it before b/c I didn't want Molly worried that it was going to look like a potato sack on me. Now that she saw it in person last weekend, she's feeling good, so I can write about it.)


• My whole family is going to be at the wedding. Parents, sisters, brothers-in-law. Anyone who has ever seen my family in action on a wedding dance floor knows what a treat is in store. Suffice to say my father will likely be dirty dancing with my friends, and everyone will tell my sisters they should try out for So You Think You Can Dance after the wedding.


• My wedding partner specifically requested me to be paired with him. (Don't get too excited, readers -- he's married.) But, I think that means we will definitely rock the bridal party "coolness" contest since we are both loud and outgoing. And, I'm hoping, good dancers.

Oh, and I'm really happy for the bride- and groom-to-be too. But that goes without saying. :)

(Six degrees side note: I was actually supposed to get fixed up with the groom-to-be years ago, but ended up rekindling with The Divorcee the nite before I was supposed to meet Drew. See, Moll? You're right. Everything happens for a reason.)

I effing hate all of you

"Just give him a chance!"

"Go! You might meet someone else there!"

"You should go. You'll have fun."

These are just some of the things I heard when I blogged about The Lawyer asking me to his law firm's prom. At that point, we had only been out once (and talked on the phone a few times).

But all of my readers (and friends who don't read the blog) said I should give him another chance.

So I did. On Wednesday. After two hours (and no dinner!), I packed it up for the nite and knew once and for all that I did not want to go out with him again.

Except... now I have to because he had already asked me to this thing. UGH. (Side note: who asks someone they've only been out with once to a black tie affair? Dorks, that's who.)

I am DREADING this black tie event next Saturday. As in, I would rather do the following things in lieu of going to this event:

• staple my eyelids to the carpet


• get a UTI or yeast infection


• wear pegged jeans on a date with an incredibly hot guy


• have extra fat injected into my ass and thighs

I have a feeling this is going to be a looooooong week. I already can't wait for Saturday to be over.

SERIOUSLY, PEEPS... is it too late to cancel? And if it's not, what should I say?

Worst Best Man

O.M.G.!!!!

Can you imagine being this best man?

Guess I should be glad that bridesmaids are only charged with carrying flowers and looking cute during the ceremony. Yikes.

(And I'm guessing Molly is happy that her wedding in a couple of weeks is on an altar, not on a platform over a body of water!)

With these shoes, I thee wed

When helping friends and family plan their weddings, I am always amazed at the amount of time a bride spends shopping to find the "perfect shoe"... especially since pretty much the only thing anyone ever sees on a bride's foot is the sole of her shoe if/when she is kneeling at some point during the ceremony.

(This shoe thing often extends to the bridal party. My friend Carrie almost had us return our shoes for her wedding b/c the sole was black and our dresses were mocha, and she thought that might be too much of a contrast. True story.)

Anyhow, this "perfect shoe" phenomenon came rushing back to me while shopping with Molly during our recent trip to Florida. Since it was raining, we stopped at the local DSW and found what we thought were "the" shoes. After many, MANY failed attempts at ordering shoes online, Molly seemed very content with her purchase. (I think she even got them on sale!)

So imagine my surprise when I found out that she is planning to go to an event at the grand opening of the DSW at Crocker Park tomorrow, just to make sure she found "the" shoes.

WAIT!! I thought we had "the" shoe!!! But, it seems as though Molly (or, as I'll call her now, Cinderella) wants to do one more round of shopping before committing.

(I swear to you, she has had a harder time committing to her shoes and hairstyle for this wedding than she did committing to her fiancee.)

So, fair warning. There's a bride on a mission to win the chance to stuff a car full of shoes so she has lots of options on the big day. Enter at your own risk.

Get out and vote!

No boy updates today. Unless, of course, you consider me writing about John and Barack (aka The Republican and The Democrat) as "boy updates."

Nope, I'm just here to today to tell you to get out and vote. Why? See below.


I get to vote in a log cabin, which is an added bonus. Hold the syrup, please.

ESP finds BF?

My aunt (who comments here as "blogaunt") has always claimed to have a weird 6th sense/ESP thing going on. We've seen it in action a few times over the years, but I honestly couldn't remember anything specific. Until today.

My sisters and I went over to visit blogaunt for her bday. While we were there, blogaunt brought out a bag of leftover Halloween candy.

My sister Jenna passed on the treats, but then said there is a candy bar she's been wanting to try. To which blogaunt replied, "Take 5?" And you know what? She was right.

Here's what's weird. Jenna IN NO WAY described what the candy bar was. She just said "candy bar." And, while delicious, a Take 5 bar isn't really what I would describe as a top 5 candy bar. It's like blogaunt was able to read her mind.

(Side note: blogaunt said this mind-reading thing has been happening a lot lately.)

All of us sort of freaked out a little bit when this happened. I mean, seriously. How do you just pull Take 5 out of your ass like that without some type of divine intervention?

But then I realized this may be just the secret weapon I need. Blogaunt can immediately tell me whether I'm wasting my time with a potential suitor! So, this post is officially putting her to work.

(We will forgive the time that, when early into our dating, she told me she thought The Murse and I would get married soon... we broke up SIX YEARS later because it didn't happen. But maybe her talents were still developing back then.)

I know blogaunt reads 27 Dresses in Cleveland pretty regularly, so I think I'm just gonna wait patiently for the "This is the one!" comment from her.

Til then... guess I'll just Take 5.