Monday, December 29, 2008
I was honored to share in the special days of two of my very best friends this year. Two more bridesmaid notches under my belt, two more incredibly happily married friends.
We were able to start the wedding season festivities by doing the robot at Carrie's bachelorette party:
And having a ton of fun on her wedding day (this is one of our fancy shots of the day):
Then came Molly's bachelorette party (featuring penis straws, as modeled by me here):
And her awesomely wonderful wedding day:
And sprinkled in between all of my bridesmaid duties were vacations with my college friends (who are now spread out all over the Midwest and East Coast):
Any my family (not pictured, but also on vacay: blogdad, my brothers-in-law and Brissy):
And while I celebrated all of these occasions without a significant other to share them with, I still never lost sight of the wonderful people who are in my life each and every day.
(Plus, I just thought it was really funny to post this many pictures with people's faces blacked out.)
So I guess I just want to say thank you to all of my holla-awesome friends and family (and readers! I think you rock too!), and wish everyone an even happier, more joyful and blessed 2009.
And, please, for the love of all things holy... keep working on that finders' fee! :)
Much happiness in the New Year -
Always a Bridesmaid
P.S. See? I did listen to all you guys about how I should wear my hair for Molly's wedding. (That's where this pic is from.)
P.P.S. I'm heading to Philly for a few days to celebrate NYE with a couple of the college roomies pictured above. Blog to you in '09!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
- article of clothing
- part of the body
- verb ending in "ing"
- part of the body
- Is that a/an noun in your article of clothing, or are you just adjective to see me?
- I hope you know mouth-to-part of body -- because you just took my noun away!
- If I said you had a beautiful noun, would you hold it against me?
- Can I borrow your cell noun? I want to tell my noun I just met the noun of my dreams.
- Did you hear that? It's the sound of my heart verb ending in "ing."
- If you were a laser noun, you'd be set on "stunning."
- Is there a warrant out for your noun? Because it must be illegal to look that adjective.
- Are you from outer space? Your part of the body is out of this world!
What do you think? Did you discover a few new gems?
And that's just the start of the fun. There are lots more Mad Libs to choose from, including Tactful Turndowns, Blind Dates Gone Bad and Warning Signs.
Seriously. Go buy this book. Your friends will thank me for it. Especially when they hear you say something like this to some unsuspecting guy:
Since Ashley already wrote about this horrible date on her own blog (and I'm all about lazy blogging during the holidays), just click on the link above to find out how not to impress a woman on a first date.
The experience she describes makes every leather pants lawyer/lady parts salesman/cartwheel doing-guy I've dated and/or seen on the prowl sound like a prince.
Seriously. Who starts a date at 11pm? (Other than... ahem... those ladies who are *paid* to do so.) And THEN he doesn't have enough money to pay for himself? OMG.
Go check it out. You'll feel better about every pathetic date you've ever been on.
And now that you've checked out Ashley's blog (what? you didn't go there yet? promise you will after you finish this post!), I officially only have one guest blogger left in the hopper: TMGB. Thanks again to everyone who contributed to the blog over the past week! It was nice to have a little time off.
But sorry, readers... you're stuck with me again now. (And I'm actually kind of glad... I missed you!)
Friday, December 26, 2008
Just to clean up a few loose ends...
- The Mouse did not end up coming over for Christmas. (He was able to make it home to be with his own family.)
- And The Beard has been texting a TON. But alas, he's leaving to go back home tomorrow. However, that did not stop my sissy from re-enacting our PDA session to the entire family on Christmas Eve. Which was actually sort of helpful, since I don't really remember it.
- I got a random "Merry Christmas" (spelled wrong -- who spells it "Marry"??) mass text from The Banker. WTF? I haven't talked to him since October.
- And The Teacher and I have talked on the phone a few times and may be meeting up at some point this Sunday.
Now on to more important things... like guest blog posts. This submission comes us courtesy of the blog Famously Single.
There's one more guest blogger in the hopper, but he (yes, you read that right -- HE) is going to wait a couple of weeks to send his submission. (Timing is everything, peeps, right?)
(As a side note... I was thinking the other day of how random it would be if The Male Guest Blogger (TMGB) and I somehow end up together. That would be such a fun story for our kids someday... and, hopefully, the movie studios.)
Til then, enjoy this little nugget from Ms. Famously Single.
Fast forward a few weeks. I wake up next to him. This is like the second time we have ever slept together. He is getting up to go golfing. I am lying in his bed. He's about to leave. He says, "Just so you know, that gun right there is fully loaded. So if you try to mess around with it, it's loaded and it will go off."
I say, "Wait... I slept with a loaded gun by me the whole night?" (Always a Bridesmaid sidenote: That's What She Said.)
He says, "Yeah. Alright, I'm leaving."
I've slept with this man twice and already he is staking claim on my p*ssy! Seriously, who says that? For once in my life, I was literally speechless. What are you supposed to say to that?
I wish I would have said your d*ck is mine, but I found out that it wasn't. Maybe that line really worked for him because while he was screwing everything with two legs, the girls were not.
On a side note, I found out that he shot some guy in the leg who tried to get into his girl's apartment. Guess there is one benefit to sleeping by a loaded gun. :)
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
- I should never mix gin and tonics with shots. EVER. That mixture is gross going down. And guess what? It's even worse when it comes back up. (Twice.)
- McDonald's breakfast is the closest thing to a slice of heaven that's possible after a night of drunken debauchery.
- I should have reconsidered my footwear for the party. Knee-high boots are cute when you're sober, but tearing those things off when you're in the bag is another story. (Luckily, my friend Nikki was there with the assist on Saturday nite.)
- I use proper grammar and spelling even whilst drunk/blackout texting. (I must admit -- I was quite impressed with myself when I was reviewing the text log in the morning.)
Also of note? I apparently thought it was a good idea to conduct a PDA session at the party with The Beard, a kid I have known since grade school.
This is the same kid who I flirted with at my middle sissy's wedding, then later got called a d*ck tease by my youngest sissy, her hubby and brissy because I didn't "seal the deal" that nite. (Which, I suppose, does technically make me a d*ck tease.)
Anyhow, The Beard is utterly adorable (minus the beard thing he has going on right now) and very funny. You know how I love the cute, funny ones! And while The Beard's family still lives in town, he has since moved away. (Seems to be a trend for me, no?)
Hey, I guess every party needs a "that girl," right? I just hope I don't fill that role again anytime soon.
*** We now return to our regularly-scheduled guest blogging series. ***
This entry comes to us from Sparks via her blog No Sparks.
Hold on to your undies, ladies!
as a rule, i won't use this outlet to tell humiliating stories about ex-boyfriends or anyone i have ever truly cared about... that is, of course, unless they did something grossly inappropriate or gut-bustingly funny. such is the case with the underwear thief.
JG started out as a taboo, a coworker i was sleeping with out of convenience, but quickly evolved into someone special. we only dated for a month before he took a job in another city and split. we stayed in contact and, over the next 6 years, visited each other several times for weekend romps. these weekend get-togethers would start with a friendly hug, then move straight to the bedroom, where we would stay until it was time to say goodbye. just like that, we could turn it on for the weekend and turn it off again without losing any sleep pining for each other when we were apart. it was when we deviated from this bedroom-weekend pattern that JG became fodder for my dating tales.
one weekend, JG drove in from LA so we could take a little road trip down to Tucson together, to see 'rock kills kid,' a band we both like.things got ugly right away...
jg: "can you please not smoke in the car?"
me: "roll your window up, i have the a.c. on."
"don't throw your cigarette out the window!"
"stop changing my music."
"don't put that out in here! it smells!"
"you have to go to the bathroom again?"
"seriously, you can't go 2 hours without a cigarette?"
...and just deteriorated from there. he became an octopus at the concert, groping me to the point of public indecency and seriously pissing me off, because i don't like to be f*cked with when i'm listening to a band i never get to see and paid good money to watch.
things didn't even get better when we retreated to our safe place - the bedroom. we were staying with a friend of mine, who was sleeping in the next room, so we felt the need to be quiet. i don't particularly enjoy quiet sex, so i might not have even bothered if i weren't so desperate to salvage the weekend. plus, i wanted to show off the new underwear i'd bought just for this trip - cute little hot-pant boy shorts with lace trim. tomboy sexy. JG was into 'em, so we proceeded, but apparently the quiet wasn't doing it for him either. he wasn't performing up to his usual standards, so i feigned sleep when he took too long to finish.
the next morning, i was standing in my friend's kitchen with a packed suitcase, keys in hand, ready to get this weekend the hell over with. JG finally finished primping and joined me in the kitchen, asking: "hey, did you leave your hairbrush in the bathroom?"
oh, yes, i had. i went to retrieve it. when i came back, he was fidgeting a bit.
"um, i think you forgot something else."
he then bent down to unzip his bag, fumbled under a pile of clothes and pulled out a wadded ball of purple and green - my new underwear. he handed them to me and stuttered something about how i must have left them.
really? i left them on the bottom of your suitcase? douche bag?
i was speechless the whole way home. i had never realized how long the drive from tucson to phoenix could be.
that was my last weekend with JG, now officially "the underwear thief." we sporadically stay in touch, and this past year, he got engaged. he is actually a truly phenomenal person, kleptomania and panty fetish notwithstanding, and i wish him all the best. i just hope his fiancé has the good sense to get a padlock for her underwear drawer.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Mr. Textual: What are you gonna wear to our date?
BonQuiQui (Creeped out slightly): A shirt and jeans
Mr. Textual: You should wear a skirt
BonQuiQui (Creeped out a little more): Haha we shall see
Mr. Textual: How do you feel about you wearing a skirt on our date and us getting a secluded booth at the restaurant…(There was more to this message but not what is appropriate)
BonQuiQui (Completely creeped out): Haha....NO.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Today's post comes from a fellow blogger over at Stream of Consciousness. (I'm not sure if she wants me to use her name... and being an anonymous blogger myself, I'm very sensitive to this point!)
This little nugget is all about what life is like after you go from being boyfriend/girlfriend to being romantically-attached roommates.
WHOA. I am clearly not ready to live with anyone unless they poop in a litter box... and don't use my towels.
I moved in with my prince 6 months ago. Since then, I’ve definitely seen the frog side of him.
I had great dreams of moving in with Jock (named for all of the hours of sports that we watch). We spent so much time together; and the thought of cooking and drinking wine together after work, waking up on a lazy Sunday morning to flip through the paper while sipping coffee and sharing chores sounded like bliss.
And that part is. But let me warn you, girls: your eyes will definitely open wide as soon as you start packing your boxes. Let me give you a few examples:
1. When we lived separately, we spent a lot of time at my place. His roommate was no picnic, and the less I saw her, the better. No time at his house=no time to pay attention to the stinky socks, the smelly gym bag or the much-handled basketball that he insisted on carrying around (it’s easier than renting one at the gym, apparently). Bottom line: I never knew he generated so much man musk.
2. I have always been nuts about my bath towels. They have to be soft, big and fluffy, totally dry and only used by me. My boyfriend doesn’t seem to comprehend this philosophy. My first strategy was to assign certain colored bath towels to him so that when two are hanging up in the bathroom, he knows which one to use. With that, he feigned ignorance and said that he never could remember which color towel was his. My next strategy was to hang my towel on the right side of the bar, his on the left. So far, this is working, but I can’t tell you how many times I have found MY towel as a soggy, crumpled mess on the bed. I will take him out the next time he does it.
3. I can only hope that if he and I ever get married, we have only girls. I have nightmares about the possibility of feeding boys who have the same appetite that he does. I have come home on so many occasions with a specific craving—Wheat Thins, ice cream, chocolate—only to find that he has finished whatever was left in our pantry. Seriously, I bought a box of Wheat Thins, and the next day, they were gone. One time, it took me 3 trips to the store to finally scrounge together all of the ingredients for some candy that I wanted to make, all because he would eat some portion of the ingredients when I wasn’t looking. When I finally did make the candy, guess who got the first bite?
4. Remember when your mom used to say that your dad was like one of her kids? My mom always said that, and in my naïve little world, I never believed that could be true. I mean, he’s an adult, so he has to be mature, right? WRONG. In all of the time we’ve lived together, Jock has opened my eyes to all of those things listed above. But my favorite is when he does one of those things on purpose. Oh yes, Jock will leave a towel on the bed; or drop his nasty gym clothes on the floor next to, no TOUCHING, the hamper instead of in it; and go into the kitchen and finish my favorite snack all for entertainment value. Apparently, I’m funny and cute when I’m miffed. Let me tell you, I do not want to be cute and funny. I would like to be scary and intimidating. Instead, when I respond to these pranks with questionable language and a hefty sigh, all I get is a laugh. How old is he--10 or 25?
To be fair, I must tell you at least one good thing that has come out of our cohabitation: I get a home-cooked meal every night. That’s right—he cooks, and it’s good. That princely move is enough to make up for all of the frogs I have to put up with.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
- You can't use a guy's (or girl's) real name (unless he's a friend involved in your story and not the romantic interest). Instead, use a fun nickname for whoever the love interest is.
- Tell me what name you want your post published under (like my Always a Bridesmaid moniker -- or you can use your real name if you're really brave!).
- If you have a blog, let me know what it is so I can link to it.
- You have to be funny (duh).
That's it! I'll post guest blogger entries over the next several weeks (assuming any actually come in!!) in between my updates about The Teachalian (who wants to get together this week), The Italian Stallion (who I've talked to a couple of times now... and who hasn't sent one text! YEAH!) and The Teacher (who I already have a post in the works about).
I know you've got stories, ladies (and gents). Don't be shy!
P.S. if you know my personal email address, feel free to send your entries there too. (Same rules apply!)
Friday, December 12, 2008
Not that he had two heads or half a face or something... but his voice just didn't go with his body. You're with me on this one, right?
Fast forward 20 years and I'm now thinking that Rick wouldn't be such a bad catch after all. Why?
And, really, isn't this what all of us single ladies are looking for? Thanks to my friend Matt for forwarding this enlightening pie chart along.
P.S. Sorry if this song is in your head all day now. I've already hummed a few bars myself.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Sure, spending another gift-giving season alone can be lonely, but if you adjust your view, it can also be the greatest time of the year. No quarrels, no guilt trips—you have the freedom to do whatever you want, whenever you want and with whomever you want. If you need to be reminded about just how amazing the holidays can be when you’re solo, read on for our five top reasons why it’s great to be single this season.
Reason #1: You can Spend Time with your own Family and Friends
It’s the age-old holiday conundrum and controversial issue: which family should a couple spend the holiday with? Lucky for you, being single means you aren’t obligated to go somewhere you don’t want or have to split time or compromise between your partners family and your own.
There are no expectations to spend the morning sipping cocoa and opening presents with your in-laws just because they live closer than your own family or because it’s their ‘turn’ this year. Take ownership of the holiday and make plans with your own friends and relatives. You’re already trying to please your own family; being single you won’t have to please a partner’s as well.
Reason #2: You can Put yourself at the Top of your List
This year, your holiday debt and anxiety will be at an all time low because there’s no need to find the perfect gift for your significant other and his or her immediate family. With no struggle over what to buy, spend a fraction of the money on a gift you’ve been eyeing for yourself or donate the funds to the charity of your choice.
Reason #3: You can Create new Traditions for Yourself
Don’t be a creature of habit. Give yourself permission to enjoy the holiday in whichever way you envision. Have you secretly always wanted to create the most over-the-top Christmas light-adorned spectacle of your home or set up a fabulous girly tree complete with all the pink trimmings? (Sidenote: and if you are a man, you can put up a tree like the one featured on this post.) You now can, because being single you have the option to deck the halls—or not. Perhaps this year you’ll start a new tradition of going away with other single friends to an exotic beach locale or volunteering at festivities for your church, synagogue or community center.
Reason #4: You can be Fun, Flirty and Fabulous at all the Holiday Parties
Put on your best party dress or suit and revel in the holiday spirit. Without the stress of having to make sure your significant other is having fun think of all the time you’ll have to collect kisses under the mistletoe.
Reason #5: There’s No Undue Expectations
Expectations for the holidays are already unrealistic—single or not. It’s rare that everything will go smoothly but being solo does take part of the pressure off because you hold the power to create your own special day. The best part is that all the choices are in your hands. If you want to spend the evening sipping hot chocolate and watching a reality show marathon you can do it.
Your relationship status doesn’t have to determine your holiday cheer. Spend time this season reflecting on the past year and what you want out of life in the future.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
- The Paramedic - I went on one date with this kid a year or two ago. He was SUPER young. As in, younger than my youngest sissy young. On the day of our date, he found out that he had just landed the new job he'd been going after, so he wanted to go "somewhere nice" (his words) to celebrate. We went to the Outback. Fast forward to a few days ago when he Facebook friended me (with a profile pic featuring his new GF), then sent me a message telling me that I still have "that million dollar smile and hair." I've heard of a million dollar smile, but million dollar hair? That must be SOME weave.
- The Mouse - This is the guy I "hung out with" (again, his words) last year. Totally same sense of humor as me (though he is much less animated and much more sarcastic). And un-be-liev-ab-ly cute. I mean, he has dimples. *melt* Anyhow, hadn't really talked to him much over the last several months, but he called a couple of weeks ago and has been emailing and texting (even sending jokey e-cards!) ever since. But, as I said in previous posts, I'm fairly certain this is on the "friend track."
- The Cop - I thought he had gotten the hint that the only time I'd ever see the back of his cop car was if I got arrested (and not for a makeout session), but I guess not. He's been FB messaging me to come meet him out at a bar, come to events he'll be at, etc. Weird.
- The Redhead - According to blogmom, this kid was my first-ever boyfriend. We went to grade school together until my family moved in third grade. I had not talked to him since then (what is that? 24 years?) until he Facebook friended me last week. While catching up via FB, I discovered yet another six degrees connection: he was fraternity brothers with The Murse back in college. (Seriously, people. That is just crazy. I've decided my life is more like two degrees of separation.)
And on top of these oldies (and questionable goodies), I've also heard from The Teacher, The Teachalian and The Italian Stallion in the past week.
Let's hope they don't all turn into boomerangers too.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
On a Tuesday, burn a brown candle for special requests, a green candle for financial help or an orange candle to find a husband. St. Anthony is a wonder worker when it comes to finding lost articles, improving the memory and bringing back a strayed lover. His emblem is the lily.
Then again... I sort of am a nun lately...
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Side note: he started the message by saying, “Hi, stranger.” This is now the third time he has started a voicemail and/or email like that, and something about it just really annoys the crap out of me.
Anyhow, last nite’s message was a follow-up to the voicemail he left for me a couple of weeks ago and the email he sent before Thanksgiving. I didn’t return his call (was busy with Molly’s wedding stuff anyhow), but did send a nice – yet curt – email response wishing him a happy Turkey Day in return. However, I did not suggest getting together again (or ever talking/emailing again, for that matter) at all (e.g., there was no “Maybe we can catch up after the holidays” or “Talk to you soon” thrown in).
But he obviously hasn’t gotten the hint.
So this is just weird for me. I have never had to have the “I think you’re really nice, but we’d probably be better off as friends” discussion. I just feel very uncomfortable with the whole idea of that talk.
Because the truth is... he didn’t do anything wrong. (Unless, of course, you count admitting that you own leather pants wrong. I'm still on the fence.) I’m just not interested.
And do I owe it to him to have that discussion (knowing that it is going to give me severe anxiety to do so) when we’ve only been out twice?
Ugh. I am so bad at dating. (Lucky for me, apparently so is he!)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
I especially relate to the author's part about the fix-up (though I'm not sure he had issued a finders' fee!). While I 110% appreciate my lovely friends and relatives trying to find me happiness, I sometimes wonder how well they really know me if they think I would want to go out with, say, a guy who asks about my lady parts on our first date.
So without further ado, please enjoy this little ditty written by Michael Kramer, an Emmy-nominated television writer living in Los Angeles. (Hmm... maybe HE'S a potential for me.)
What’s so bad about being single?
“You know what your problem is?”
Who doesn’t love a conversation that starts like that? But if you’re over 35 (Always a Bridesmaid sidenote: I am 32, but I still relate) and single, people somehow think it’s an open invitation to diagnose why you’re still single. “You don’t have room in your life for a woman.” “You’re too picky.” “You’re not picky enough.” (Sadly, I’ve dated a few women who have elicited that response from my friends.) The very term “singles” practically sounds like a disease (oh, wait, that’s “shingles”), and for those diagnosing us, being single seems to be our defining characteristic.
As the last of my peer group to remain single, I’ve noticed that friends, colleagues, family members, even shop owners, are quick to diagnose me. I bought new eyeglasses recently and the salesman asked my female friend whether we were a couple.
“No, we’re just friends,” she said.
“Good,” he said, “because based on how long it takes him to decide on a pair of glasses, if you’re waiting for a proposal, you’re gonna wait forever.” As if choosing eyewear were somehow related to choosing a spouse.
Is there something wrong with being single?
Comments like these, repeated over and over through the years, were making me start to doubt myself. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I did have the dreaded singles disease. After all, people never give flattering reasons for why you’re still single. The diagnosis is never, “You’re too good-looking” or “If only you were less smart.” It’s always something negative. “You don’t know what you want in a woman.” “You’re looking for a woman who doesn’t exist.” If everybody’s saying these things, after a while you start thinking maybe they’re right.
It got to the point where even I started to wonder why I was still single. So I decided to put my fate in the hands of my happily married friends, Andy and Lisa. (Names have been changed to protect the guilty.) I agreed to let them set me up.
Andy and Lisa wanted to double date, so the four of us went to dinner. It turns out that the woman they set me up with had started a new job that day, and she joked — three times, so I sensed it was more than a joke — that she’s just not cut out for work, and she really just wants to marry a rich guy. That’s a nice thing to hear on a first date, because that’s exactly what guys are looking for in a woman. It’s the equivalent of a man telling a first date that he’s considering quitting his job to devote more time to chewing tobacco.
Then poker came up in conversation, and my date said she loves to gamble, but she’s having a bad year. “How so?” I asked. She said she’s down $19,000. Nineteen. Thousand. Dollars! I thought, Wow, so you don’t want to work AND you’ve got a gambling problem? You’re quite the catch.
After the date, Andy pulled me aside and excitedly asked, “So… what do you think?” Not wanting to be insulting, I said I thought she was nice, but not quite my type. To which Andy replied, “You know what your problem is? You don’t want to be happy.”
Now, wait a minute! I may not know myself perfectly, but I do know that an unambitious gambler is not my road to happiness. And that’s when I came to my senses and realized that the so-called “experts” who were diagnosing me didn’t know any more than I did. Being single isn’t a disease, yet so many married people think they’re Jonas Salk with the miracle cure. But with over 50 percent of marriages ending in divorce, maybe single people should be diagnosing married people.
What single people need to remember
The fact is, we all go through life on our own timetable. I know many people who found their true love a little later in life. It wasn’t because they were crazy or afraid to commit or told too many corny jokes on dates or any of that stuff. It was because they found their true love a little later in life.
I have a well-meaning cousin who, upon hearing I wasn’t dating anyone, sighed and said, “There’s gotta be somebody out there for you.” She used the exact same tone that Dr. Frankenstein would have used if he were lamenting that his monster was still single. I told her, “It’s not like I’ve never been loved!” But then I realized that I didn’t need to get defensive. I mean, even Frankenstein’s monster found his soul mate, and I’m not sure he even had a soul. I have to believe I’m a better catch than he is. Just imagine what people must have said about him before he found his lovely bride. But did he listen? No. Ol’ Frankie’s monster just kept trudging along, with the bolts in his neck and his flat head held high. And until the rest of us find our soul mate, so should we.
Thanks, Michael! I feel better about myself already.