The best wedding I never went to

Contrary to popular blogpinion, I have NOT been to every wedding ever held in the contiguous United States.

(Just most of them.)

But there are a few that I never made my way to.

And there's one in particular I wish I could have gone to... but, alas, I wasn't born.

That's right. I'm talking about the lovely nuptials of one Mr. and Mrs. Blogdad and Blogmom. On this day 38 years ago, they got married.

Fast forward through three daughters, two sons-in-law, two grandkids (with another on the way), four cats and lots of my ex-BFs... and they're still holding hands in church and commenting on blog posts together -- nearly four decades later!

Happy anniversary, guys! Love you! (And so do my readers!)

xoxo --
Always a Bridesmaid

P.S. I think we can all agree that I was the best gift you ever gave each other, but don't tell my sissies. ;)

All a-Twitter

Since my last post about seeing that quote on Twitter, a number of you have emailed or simply flat-out asked me if I'm the face behind the Twitter account @alwysabridesmd.

Sorry to tell you that I am not.

(Though it is an odd coincidence that she's based in CLE too, no?)

Keeping up this dating blog is hard enough. I don't have the time or energy to give you guys a play-by-play via Twitter too!

(Plus, I'm still trying out that whole "not-writing-about-a-guy-til-I-know-what's-up" karma thing too. So far, so... meh. But I'm still sticking with it!)

However, I do think a blogdad/blogmom Twitter account would be high-lar-eee-ous. Could you even imagine?

What do you think their first tweet would be?

"This kid is really moving mountains!"

(Note: Above was an actual quote out of my sissy's mouth last nite.)

I've written here before about how blogmom is like a Cyber McGyver. Well, apparently the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

After telling my sissies about a boy who I was chatting with following the Browns' victory last week (shocking!), my middle sis was obsessed with finding out more about him.

(BTW, when I said "shocking," I was referring to both the Browns' win as well as the fact that a cute boy would actually talk to me while I was so bundled up for the game that I looked like the stay-puff marshmallow man.)

Anyhow, the only things I knew about him were:

• his first name


• what he did for a living (vaguely)


• that he was a good kisser (OK, so *maybe* I smooched him a little to celebrate the win -- so sue me!)

But, literally. That was ALL I KNEW. But within five minutes of cyberstalking (as I was in the other room holding my sweet little nugget nephew and watching The Sing Off), my sis had found him online. (And not by Googling "random boy who smooched my sis after the Browns game.")

I think sissy might really have a potential career in pre-screening guys for single girls. (Myself included.) Within mere minutes, she found:

• his last name


• where he works (which is when she said the quote that appears as the title of this post and told me he was gonna make a lot of money someday)


• pictures of him (to which she suggested he might want to consider teeth whitening and never growing a beard again)


• his profiles on social networks


• several articles he was featured in

I couldn't help but giggle at her research prowess. I mean, seriously. She only had his first name (which is very common) and a general idea of what he did for a living (which is admittedly less common -- but still) to go on. And she was soooooooooo excited when she found him.

(In fact, she was so excited that I didn't have the heart to tell her right away that I had his phone number and that we'd actually already talked.)

So it appears that sissy may have a potential new career... and that I may have a potential new target for Holidating!

P.S. Don't worry, blogdad. The Browns were the only ones who scored that nite. ;)

It's all their fault

Of course, I'm talking about blogmom and blogdad.

And what's their fault, you ask? The fact that you're stuck with me.

Because 37 years ago today, they got hitched!! (And then they popped out three beautiful daughters. Even though I consistently remind them that they should have stopped after me.)

Anyhow, happy anniversary, guys! Love you!

I can only hope to make my children as sick as you two make sissies and me. (And you know I mean that in the nicest way possible, right? Because you're so effing cute.) Here's hoping it doesn't take another 37 years of you being married for me to find MY perfect partner!

(Because, really, I'd be 70 by that point. And I'm pretty sure blogdad would have to walk me down the aisle in a wheelchair by that point.)

Feast or famine

What's got two thumbs, started a diet/alcohol detox this week and still went to the Feast this weekend? THIS GIRL.

Dumb, I know.

(The starting a diet/no drinking before the Feast thing. And, actually, maybe the Feast thing in general.)

Don't get me wrong. I'm Italian. I love Italians. And I actually love the Feast. But what in the EFF makes everyone become one of the Gotti brothers when the Feast comes to Little Italy every year?

As you might have guessed, I did not find Mr. Future Always a Bridesmaid this weekend. However, I did find:

• Several men wearing more hair product than me


• A guy wearing a cut-up Ed Hardy t-shirt with cut-up jeans to match


• A bazillion tattoos


• A gazillion gold chains


• Too many wife beaters to count

The best part about the nite was texting with Mr. X about everything going down around us (he was at a party somewhere else), including the creepy guys lurking around us and the cougars boogeying down to Disco Inferno in the tent. Though, I was disgusted when Mr. X suggested I go up to the lurkers and yank on their chest hair.

(Sorry, guys. Mr. X knows about the blog from mutual friends, and I've not quite figured out how to deal with that little sitch yet. So, until then, no writing about him. Though I suppose I just did, huh? See? Told you I'm still trying to figure it out.)

In the course of the nite, I also received this text from blogmom (while I was still at a party at a friend's house):

R u @ the feast

(Sidenote: I find it absolutely hilarious that blogmom uses shorthand when she texts my sissies and me. Or that she texts at all, for that matter.)

I told her I was still at the party, but would likely head down to the Feast soon. Then I asked her why she wanted to know, figuring it had something to do with a boy. I was right.

Met a man & his girlfriend & he knows [BLOGCOUSIN] & wants u 2 meet his son. Have his info & did NOT give out yours.

Now that's just mean, blogmom. You know I'm on a diet. I can't have any Italian sausage. ;)

Did you ever stop to think...

... that the phrase "son of a bitch" is really a dig at someone's mom?

Just sayin'.

Anyhow, I'm fairly certain no one has ever said that about blogmom. (In fact, most of the derogatory things I've heard about blogmom involved my guy friends making perverted comments about wanting to "get wit" her.)

If you don't regularly read her comments on posts, you should. Blogmom never fails to entertain.

So, on this day devoted to celebrating maternal fertility, I say HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, BLOGMOM! Love you!

(And happy "almost" Mother's Day to my pregs sissy!)

Keep your friends close...

... and, apparently, your blog readers closer.

If you've spent any time over the last few days reading comments on one of my recent blog posts, you probably know where this is going.

If you haven't, buckle up.

I learned on Friday that one of my readers took it upon herself (or himself) to read this post recapping my date with The Greek, spend who-knows-how-much time trying to figure out who he was in real life, figured it out, tracked him down and sent him a link to the blog telling him to watch out for me.

(Sidenote: blogmom would have been so proud of this person's Cyber McGyver skills. Except for the fact that they were put to use to screw her daughter. So, probably not so much now.)

Awesome. An e-cock block. Well, except that I was the one getting blocked, so I guess it can't technically be a coc... oh, you know what I mean.

But seriously, peeps. As if I don't have a hard enough time with my dating life, I now apparently have someone who is trying to sabotage it even further.

(And just when I finally had a fun date with a guy who I would have wanted to go out with again.)

And the bitch of it is that this saboteur knows my real identity (she/he used my name in the email), yet commented as "anonymous" on the post so I don't know hers/his. (The "anonymous" post was left after The Greek left a post which I responded to.)

Now don't get me wrong, readers. I would totally get it if you knew my real identity and somehow figured out that I was dating one of your friends, so you wanted to warn him about the blog. That's called being a good friend.

This situation? I'm not really sure what to call it. Other than totally effed up.

I have a lot of less-than-nice things to say about this situation, but I'm going to try to be the bigger person and end this post now so I can refrain from doing so.

But that doesn't mean you have to! What do you think? Am I overreacting? Or did this cross the line?

P.S. Apologies to The Greek for being outed. That was obvi never my intention. (If I knew how to say "sorry" in Greek, I would! However, I would not ironically say "sooooooorry" like I did to Molly in my last post.)

Love life is DOA. Send help STAT.

You can probably guess from the title of this entry, but I might as well let you in on the newest happenings in my love life... blogdad is back at it. (Again.) This time, with a doctor.

He called this morning to warn me that I might be getting a call from potential suitor, whom blogdad apparently gave my number to in the last couple of days. (The doc is actually one of blogdad's customers, which could make things really interesting if we, in fact, ever go out.)

I'm really starting to think that Millionaire Matchmaker chic has nothing on blogdad. Once he retires, he could start up a dating service for late 20's/early 30's single girls in Cleveland. And blogmom could start some sort of internet researching firm to keep herself busy while blogdad is out "screening" the girls. (Sidenote: any time anyone has some sort of problem/issue/question, blogmom turns into Cyber McGyver.)

Actually, the more I type this... the more I realize that this really is a GREAT idea! Blogparents could work together! The $75K Matchmakers. (Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, though, does it?) Blogdad could find potential suitors for his clients, then blogmom could Google the hell out of the potential guys and send a report of what she found. Genius! (But that will probs require blogmom to join Facebook, which she has sworn she won't do.)

Now I don't know what I'm more intrigued by... whether the doctor will actually call, or how to get blogparents started on this new business!

Some good dating advice...

... from an 8-year-old girl named Anita. (See bolded pink text below.)

(I'm sure you may have seen this as an email forward before, but it still cracks me up every time I read it. Enjoy!)

HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY?

You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming. -- Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with. -- Kristen, age 10

WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?

Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then. -- Camille, age 10

HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?

You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids. -- Derrick, age 8

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?

Both don't want any more kids. -- Lori, age 8

WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?

Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough. -- Lynnette, age 8

On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date. -- Martin, age 10

WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?

I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns. -- Craig, age 9

WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?

When they're rich. -- Pam, age 7

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do. -- Howard, age 8

IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?

It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them. -- Anita, age 9

HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN'T GET MARRIED?

There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there? -- Kelvin, age 8

HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?

Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck.-- Ricky, age 10

*****

Thanks for forwarding this, blogmom!

What kid do you think has it figured out the best?