omg idk! iJs!!!

seeing how i’m perpetually 15, i’ve been obsessed w/text messaging (txt msging) as of late. this has everything to do w/nicolina and now also kate (the hott mapmaker). together, we’ve come up with some new txt msg acronyms.

to start things off, here are our popular favs, which many of you are probably familiar with:

-idk[i don't know; fun to say outloud fast! make you sure you really pronounce the "dee," a la this cingular commercial(of "idk, my bff jill" fame. don't forget the other version, w/granmaw txting her bff rose. omG we loves. she also says "myob" (mind your own business; she's so sassy! we loves.)] which brings us to, of course…
-omg (oh my gosh. i like to write this omG, as to emphasize the GOSH. i use “gosh” b/c i’m jewish and don’t like to throw around the whole lord’s-name-in-vain thing. i know, i’m weirdly old-school.)
-wtf [what the @#$!; this is very helpful (and oddly satisfying) to write in irritating situations.]

now for the new ones:

-ijs! (i’m just saying! helps to capitalize the J here. as in: i’m just saying. veeery teenage. loves.)
-wai, cl?! [what am i, chopped liver?!; if you're from jersey or nyc, you might be especially fond of this one. very jewish. ppl in my family used to actually say this. (roughly translated: "WHAT? i'm not important enough?!!") props to the mapmaker for that one.]
-witym (word it to your momma!)
-and the newest, longest one, via an earlier im fb chat (instant msg facebook chat) w/kate: ydkwyjgyi (you don’t what you just got yourself into) yes, it’s long, i know. but friggin a, it’s so funny.

if you’ve got any favs, bring ‘em!

here’s to the long weekend! omg ise! (i’m so excited!)

three headaches, two visits and one dress fitting later

i am back. and boy, have i missed all you ppl. trust me, i’d rather be blogging than struck down w/multi-day migraines. but that’s what happened to me since my last posting. in between and after all the headaches [i blame them on stress and barometric pressure changes (yes, my head is a human barometer and, although gorgeous, the weather's been all over the place lately)], we had a lot of visitors: holly’s very down-to-earth aunt, her adorable cousin and one fabulous nicolina, otherwise known as my san fran writer bff and maid of honor.

i’ve been scratching my head about how to write this entry b/c i really have so much to say. i feel like i’ve had a lump in my throat since she walked in (and then out, yesterday morning) our rowhouse door. we so rarely get to hang out at all, let alone for days (we picked her up sunday night and i took off from work monday and tuesday) in a row. days! i still can’t wrap my head around it.

i guess i could sum up our visit like this: walking, talking, eating, walking more, talking more and eating even more. also roof deck-sitting, dinner party-ing and hanging out w/perhaps the most faaaaabulous (and beautiful and sweet) men on the planet. i impressed myself with a running commentary on the landmarks and history of baltimore–who knew i even knew all that stuff! as i spoke, i realized, gee, it sounds like i actually kind of like it here! and then i was like, naaaaaaaaaaah. (but yeah, despite my efforts to the contrary, baltimore’s growing on me. kind of a like a wart. (or a mushroom, tho that wouldn’t be growing onme per se). it’s kind of ugly but you can’t stop it. so instead you embrace it. or go to the dermatologist. but anyway, i digress) and from the looks of her blog, it sounds like nicolina’s kind of crushing on it, too.

i’m glad i was wearing my sunglasses when we were out walking, and later, on the water taxi, b/c i felt myself spontaneously tearing up a few times–i think b/c i was just so happy to have my friend by my side again. my mother’s always told me that good friends are hard to come by. she said it quite a few times when i was in high school, usually while i was sobbing over this or that friend doing me wrong (i’m sure you remember those days. back then, everything felt like the end of the world). she’d smooth my hair back from my tears and hand me tissues, telling me that if you can count the number of good friends you have on even one hand throughout your entire lifetime, you’re lucky. now, on the edge of 30 and planning one of the most important events in my life, i see how absolutely blessed i am in this regard. b/c, while i may not actually see my close friends as much as i’d like to [and despite the fact that we may instant msg/email (and omG txt msg lol wtf) more than we actually talk these days], i know they’re there for me. they’re the sort of friends that i know–wherever i am, whatever i do, no matter how much time goes by–are with me for the long haul. most of them have moved away (and in a couple of cases, i’ve actually moved away from them), but i feel their love radiating across the miles–down the B/W parkway, down I-95, curling down the amtrak rails and yes, flying cross-country, across farms, rivers and mountains, touching down in baltimore to give me hugs and confidence and look into my eyes and tell me everything’s going to be ok… (ok, hello, crying again)

i could have scheduled my very first dress fitting to coincide w/nicole’s visit, but decided to leave our days completely open. instead, i went yesterday on my own, a little wary of what a dress fitting actually entails. i’m still processing the entire thing, so I’ll say the following: um, 1. don’t get a dress made unless you don’t mind standing around in your undies. i (silently) take issue with this, but am pretending i don’t care. 2. it’s good if the ladies pinning you are speaking, say, russian, to each other. this way, you don’t know if they’re talking about you. 3. although i’ve lost quite a bit of weight, i need to lose more. i know, this is the bridal mantra. it’s just a little intimidating when it’s actually you instead of a friend or some crazy bridezilla on tv.

between a long-awaited MOH (maid of honor)/bff visit, and yesterday’s dress fitting, i’m still waiting for that lump in my throat to disappear. this wedding stuff is emotional! i swear, practically everything’s got me tearing up. it’s like i’m in this perpetual old-jewish-lady-hand-waving-in-face-oh-my-gawd-i’m-tearing-up-dahlink-please-hand-me-a-tissue state. but it’s good, i think, that i’m feeling all of this. and i know that with friends like nicole by my side, everything, as she continually assures me, will be just fine.

i just spent more than half of my h&m giftcard on bangle bracelets

i’m not sure what this says about me, really. (perhaps that i don’t know how to prioritize? that i’m Totally 80s? that i like hearing a ridiculous jingle-jangling every time i move my arm(s)?!) all i know is that i don’t go shopping all that often, and i probably should’ve bought something else. how can something so wrong feel so…right??

baltimore is actually a pretty exciting place to live right now

i never thought i’d ever think those words, let along write them, but dogNABBIT that michael phelps has this place brimming w/Phelps Phever! we’re on the Today show! we’re in the national papers! i keep thinking, he’s from HERE! i cannot believe he’s from here. despite my decision that baltimore is, thus far and by far, the downright smelliestplace i’ve ever lived (between the stankfest that is the Inner Harbor, spice plants, random factories and mounds of steaming craaaabs every which way you turn, jersey ain’t got NOTHIN on baltimore. and btw, totally don’t think jersey deserve all those smelly jokes just b/c of one stinky spot on the nj turnpike. but i will get to all this on another day in another entry), i must admit that i’ve been feeling a surprising surge of bmore pride, and i gotta say, i like it.

in other news–BFGW (Big Fat Gay Wedding) news, i should say–i had a complete meltdown saturday in the midst of hunting for just the right material for my dress. i mean, i’m already clueless about this stuff as is, but the fact that the guy at the fabric store was MEAN to me didn’t help matters! there i was, in the middle of bumblef*ck as far as i’m concerned, looking for this that and the other thing, already feeling insecure…by the time i left, i was in tears and on the verge of a LBS (low blood-sugar) meltdown. in fact, i couldn’t even get to my dressmaker w/out stopping for nourishment. the fabric turned out to be all wrong. so i had to bring it back for an exchange (yes, they already love me there), then go back to the dressmaker, then go to joann’s fabric, then go back to the dressmaker. all the while JULIE (that’s what holly and i have named the “lady” inside our sony GPS) was shouting at me TURN RIGHT! TURN LEFT! TURN YOU IDIOT TURN! no, actually, she wasn’t. but she was confusing me and probably getting mad b/c i’m a crappyass driver. but, julie, please don’t be mad. b/c i would literally be lost w/out you. like, literally.

anyway, b/c i am neurotic and stress over everything [oh yeah, and have i mentioned the freakish eye twitchi've developed?? (from stress, i'm sure) so while it may seem like i'm winking at you, i'm probably not. or am i?? (insert Dr. Evil pinky-on-corner-of-mouth)] i wound up giving myself a headache. holly took me to a dark pub to calm me down with draft cider and delicious fried foods but i could barely eat or drink and only wound up getting worse, collapsing into bed at something crazy like 6 p.m.

sunday wasn’t much better, i’m afraid, but i’m happy to report that i’m much better now, esp. after a nice round of md. state lottery SCRATCH-OFFs at the local 7-11 (or “Sevs,” as we call it in jersey). i’m afraid i’m addicted to these lately. i mean *something* has to pay for this wedding, right?? (jk jk…wait? no, totally jk, but an extra 10 grand or so would def. help) i’m one of those crazys who, as soon as she wins $2 or $10 or whatever, runs right back into the store to get something like 10 more. c’mon ppl! i barely drink, don’t smoke, do drugs, am responsible to the core, really. so i like a few scratch-offs now and then! so what if i stumble outta Sevs smellin like a deep fried taquito rolled in a hot dog rolled in doritos. (i actually do smell like that at the moment.) siiiigh. no, you’re right. that is the smell of a gambling addict. breathe it in and do as i say (LAY OFF THE SCRATCH-OFFs) not as i do (sit in your car mumbling “big money big money,” covered in silvery scratch-off dust). haha. just made myself crack up. hey, something’s gotta cheer me up on a monday.

i must’ve been a gay man in a past life

b/c my love for madonna runs so deep and so strong, it’s just unbelievable. it literally takes my breath away. i simply have no words. (yes, you can laugh. b/c i know it sounds ridiculous. but i promise you it’s true.)

i’ve never met her, and to tell you the truth, probably wouldn’t want to. (i’ve also found thru my forays into celebrity journalism that the more celebs i meet/interview, the more disappointed i become), but now, on the eve of her FIFTIETH (!!??) birthday (and despite my ongoing sighs re: her new album) feel i must pay homage to a woman who–besides the obvious female role models in my life, i.e. my mom, late grandmother, teachers, etc.–has perhaps had more impact on my life than any other. i think a lot of women (and perhaps more than a few faaaaabulous men??) my age feel the same way. so after reading this washington post article, i thought it was the perfect time to share my own madonna tribute with you. it’s a little essay i wrote three years ago. i shopped it around to different publications, and they were all, “hmmmm….thanks but notsomuch.” nevermind. anyway, it’s not the greatest thing i’ve ever written, but it’s full of gushy madonna love. i sent it to a few friends over the years, so if you’re one of them, just bear with me.

madonna, i love you. happy 50th! you are an inspiration and a revelation and now, omG, i’m tearing up again! so, without further ado, an essay i like to call…

My Life With Madonna

It dawned on me one day over the summer—quite suddenly and without any warning—that I barely have any recollection of my life without Madonna. Just like television and Hershey bars, every coherent memory I have of my childhood, every ache and pain of adolescent, she’s there in the backdrop, like a timeline. All of my personal milestones I can place next to a Madonna song or Madonna look.
 
By Madonna, of course I mean Madonna. Madonna the Material Girl. Madonna the instigator. Madonna the once oversexed New Yorker, now Kabbalist mother-of-two, wife and Anglophile.
 
Like Cher or the Mona Lisa, she’s a woman who doesn’t need a last name. And though technically she has one (it’s Ciccone for the record) it’s really just a footnote.
 
How can I express my feelings for her without sounding like a complete loon?
 
Though we’ve never met—and chances are, never will—I feel a very strong connection to her. It’s not like a stalker-type connection. It’s like when you lay eyes on that stuffed animal or anything near and dear to your heart that you’ve hauled around to every place you’ve ever lived. Suddenly you’re in your twenties and you realize it’s been there for you all along, silently sitting there, not offering any guidance or kind words, yet you can’t remember your life without it. You realize this one day, and suddenly you love it more than ever.
 
That’s Madonna for me. Not quite a snugly stuffed animal or a safety blanket, more like some kind of evolving muse or far-off friend. And although she doesn’t know it, we’ve been through a lot together.
 
I have memories connected to every one of her singles and every one of her videos. Report cards and friends and school dances. Crushes and outfits and secrets. Dorms and first apartments and train rides back home. Madonna was the backdrop to my entire childhood, adolescent and young adulthood—from kindergarten to college to the workforce.
 
I guess I must have been about five when Madonna really hit the big-time. It was 1983 or 1984 in northern New Jersey, and I remember seeing her video for “Lucky Star.” I’m not sure how I managed to see it because my parents strictly prohibited MTV back in those days, but I can recall the wonder of that moment: chewing pink Trident in the dining room, watchingher dance moves with tiny eyes and Velcro sneakers. I was completely fascinated. The singing, the dancing, the black lace and jelly bracelets and stretchpants.
 
I was hooked.
 
As I grew, there were more videos and then magazine covers and even movies. Most of the videos I didn’t really understand: grown men fighting for her pink-gowned attention in “Material Girl”; that she was “keeping her baby” in “Papa Don’t Preach” (Whatever that meant, I thought. Why was she calling her boyfriend baby and why wouldn’t her father let her keep him?); burning crosses in “Like a Prayer”; cone-shaped and tasseled bras; and her mermaid suit in the “Cherish” video (Though I don’t think anyone understood that one).
 
Madonna kept me guessingand I think that’s what I loved about her. Just when I figured something out, she busted out withsomething—or someone—new. It was exhilarating.
 
I made up my first (and last) choreographed dance with a middle school friend to “Into the Groove.” I remember there was a lot of skipping in it, and to tell you the truth, I thought it was a pretty darn good dance at the time.
 
My childhood friend Sara, as she suffered with leukemia throughout middle school and high school, always loved Madonna. I remember going to her house a few years before she passed away, and we listened to “Secret” in her ruffled bedroom. I still think of her every time I hear it.
 
At my bat mitzvah in 1991, Madonna was there. I have a distinct memory of “Vogue-ing” at my party in the synagogue auditorium. There was a smoke machine and I was wearing a pink, ruffly, sequined dress. My hair was in a French braid, my lipstick was frosted and my number one passion was “Beverly Hills 90210.”  
 
Madonna was especially feisty those days and I was an especially awkward middle schooler. As I tightly cuffed my size 5 Guess? jeans and danced the running man, I unknowingly studied her evolution.
 
Her looks kept changing and she seemed to do the opposite of what everyone else wanted her to do. I nodded and agreed with frustrated mothers and teachers but silently I cheered her on. I didn’t really understand what she was doing but I felt somehow it was important. And it was, not just for me but for millions of other girls everywhere.
 
While I was doing homework and growing up, Madonna was busy breaking all the rules so I wouldn’t have to. She’s always been there for me, some kind of silent reassuring voice telling me throughout my life that I should be who I am, do what I need to, and, perhaps most importantly, that I can always reinvent myself.
 
People can say what they will. Granted, Madonna’s movies aren’t usually smash hits and her new albums really can’t hold a candle to her old ones. But I’ll never change my mind about her. Ever.
 
They just don’t make ‘em like Madonna anymore. She did it first and she did it best.  Britney and the Simpson girls and Christina Aguelira, they’re copycats, “poptarts,” as a friend of mine calls them. 
 
Madonna’s more than a couple hits singles and a bare midriff. As wild as it seems, she’s comfort to me—the rock star equivalent of lox on a bagel, “Golden Girls” reruns and my favorite worn-in boots. Madonna is the bad older sister we never had. Madonna is forever.

trying to catch your heart is like trying to catch a star

ok, that headline has absolutely nothing to do with whatever it is i’m about to write, but isn’t it so funny?? if you’re…hmmm…at least, say, 25 (?) you might even be silently mouthing part of the chorus right now ["carry your heeeeart into my arms/that's where you belong/ in my arms, baby, yeah" (oh don't EVEN. i know you are. i can see you doing it right now!)]  i’ve got a great remix of that song (click there for a trip down memory lane, omg), and was listening to it as i drove in this morning. (nothing like a good, early-morning remix (up rilly rilly LOUD, ‘natch). i mean, who the hell cares if ppl give you looks as you pull into your suburban day job parking lot?? if they drank more coffee and/or wore frosty lipstick, they’d probably understand). so anyway, as i was on 695 (that would the not-so-fabulous baltimore beltway) i thought, omG that is just so funny, i gots to put it on the blog. a shout-out to days gone by, if you will.

speaking of days gone by, ring shopping for the BFGW (Big Fat Gay Wedding) last night got me surprisingly emotional, which, in turn, got me thinking about…what to call it….oh, ok, here we go: relationship milestones. if you’ve been in a long-term relationship or are in one, you probably know what i’m talking about. those defining moments where you know something big is happening. holly and i agree that one of our biggest was about, let’s see, i think sept. ‘03, so, gosh, almost five years ago! (holly, i’ve been livin’ w/’cho ass for five yearsalready??? geesh. jk jk you know i love ya) we were sitting in the leasing office of a dc apartment complex (very swank, looking back on it and comparing it now to our errr… transitionalbmore neighborhood) about to sign our very first lease together. i was like, tearing up. crying! i started to cry when the leasing lady walked out for a few moments. b/c after a solid two+ years together (that would be 14 in GY (gay years). ok bad for the cause! bad for the cause! but so funny), we were finally doing the BGMI (Big Gay Move-In. ha! just totally made that up. laffing!) i mean, the mere fact that we had been together so long and waited  was a big enough deal. [for all of you who haven't heard the joke, "what does a lezzie bring on the second date?" (omG WHAT?!) "a U-HAUL!!!" hahaHA! ok, time for the boys: "what does a gay guy bring on the second date?" (omG WHAT?!!) "WHAT SECOND DATE!" remember, ppl! if you ARE one, you can make fun (oh and i def. am one)] and trust me, i could have waited even longer but holly was not havin’ it. anyway, my hand was probably shaking when i signed that lease. for all intents and purposes, we could have been signing a freakin’ marriage contract. but it was just a lease. and looking back on it, i can’t belittle the experience. b/c back then, it was the absolute biggest thing happening in my life. and now, here we are, shopping for wedding bands. (great, tearing up again, sigh; i am a WAB: a Weepy-Ass Bride) just trying them on under the bright lights of the jewelry store last night put a lump in my throat. way back when, an apartment lease might as well of meant forever. but this really does mean forever. man, we have come so far.

the bottom line is

that we’ve invited way too many ppl to this wedding. BUT OMG WE HAVE JUST BEEN SO EXCITED, and perhaps handed out a tad too many save-the-date cards. (i grew suspicious of this possibility when i ordered another batch of zazzle.com postcards, but clearly must have been in denial.) so, yeah, the bottom line is that everyone in our lives who’ve been supportive of us and our nuptials, we’re like, C’MON! THE MORE THE MERRIER! not really thinking of the reality of it all. now we’re way past 200 ppl (like, *gulp*, around 220), and holly and i are looking at each other like a couple deer in headlights, swallowing hard and both thinking simultaneously, what on earth are we gonna do???

we were looking at each other like that last week when we did a site visit. man, i’ve never been so happy to have taken a migraine pill b/c, between my mouth going numb like it does (?! i know, don’t even ask) and just not being able to think too clearly, i wasn’t able to freak the way i would’ve if i hadn’t. yeah, so basically our fabulous but unconventional dc venue (that we’ve had our hearts set on for well over a year now) just can’t accomodate our crowd for both the ceremony and reception. so now we’re scurrying to find a new site for the ceremony, and, yes we’re sort of panicking.

ok, i’ll tell you the truth b/c you’re my readers and you deserve it. it’s more like just me panicking. (ok, i actually think you already guessed that. thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.) holly continues to be methodical and steadfast, and i just tend to freak out, driving the poor girl crazy like i do. i just keep thinking, w-w-w-wait. are we on one of those wedding reality shows??? TELL ME WE’RE ACTUALLY ON ONE OF THOSE WEDDING SHOWS! where, at the last moment (granted, our wedding’s in mid-november, but it might as well be the last moment the way i’m feeling), something falls thru. except the couples on tv have a wedding planner, and s/he talks them down from the ledge and fixes everything in, like, 10 minutes and then everything is faaaaaabulous again. but we do not have such a luxury (now i see why ppl hire them, but, c’mon, that’s gotta be expensive), so yeah, we’re working on it.

in other news, does michael phelps have the cutest little butt on tv these days or what?? i may be a big ol’ homo but i have eyes! AND HE’S FROM BALTIMORE! i know, right?? i can barely believe it, but it’s true! i must admit, for all my baltimore trash talkin’, i feel proud. when he comes back, maybe we’ll like, omG! see him out! i’ll definitely have to ask him when he eats lunch.

meet me at the tractors

before i begin writing this entry, it’s essential that you know that holly’s hometown of butler, PA (“pee-ay”) is NOT a farm town. it’s actually a big place, a city, really, and much bigger (and a helluva lot less snotty) than my hometown of caldwell, nj, (OLD-SCHOOL Z100 SHOUT-OUT TO ALL MY JERSEY PPL IN THE HOUSE SAY HOOO-OOOOH! say ho! ho! now screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam!) but there are farms in the vicinity of butler, PA–and a lot more green than baltimore, dc or northern jersey–which means big animals, four-wheelers, huge lawnmowers, tractors and yes, farm shows.

the whole family went out to the butler farm show saturday night, a dusty, sun-filled extravaganza of fresh-off-the-’tater fries, trucks, squeaky/wildly-blinking rides (that you could only get me on if you killed me first–fyi, totally not just saying that), smelly (but awesome) animals and also peach (and apple) cobblers drowning in fresh vanilla softserve (hold me down, omg. so good). as the saying goes, a picture speaks a thousand words, so, without further ado, here’s a brief tour:

first we got our hands stamped with sticky acrylic paint-type stuff. that's holly's arm on the left, mine on the right. (i know, you all were dying to see what our arms look like.)

first we saw some animals. they were adorable, if not a tad smelly. i found it really funny that they were there at all, i mean, just for us to look at and stuff. 

heeeeeere, chicky chicky chicky.... (i said come HERE dammit! omg wtf don't they LISTEN?!)

cows, less than thrilled to see us. (WAIT, *this* is where milk comes from?? omg i'm totally not drinking it anymore.)

farmers...or secret lovers?? (or both?) haha, i know, i'm terrible, right??

wheeeeeeeeee! (yeah, like i said, if you want to get me on one of those, you're gonna havta carry my cold, dead body w/ya. good luck w/that.)

butler beauty school representin'!

well! now that i know john the greek has welcomed me to the fair, i feel so...welcome! (found this adjacent to one of the fair's many gyro stands.)

well dip me in batter and drop me in hot oil! i'll take 15 fried oreos, please!

good to know considering i just--burp!--ate 15 fried oreos. (found this gem of a sign at a indoor church booth. it was above a funhouse-type mirror that, yes, did, in fact, make me look quite wide.)

by the time we were finished at the farm show, my black pumas were thoroughly dusty and i was uncomfortably full of assorted fried delicacies–something i do not partake of often but i do enjoy (that is, until about two minutes later when the requiste guilt and stomacheache kick in). the next morning (yesterday), we all went to celebrate the baptism of baby brennan, holly’s newest nephew. i volunteered to be the family photog. this is something that started, let’s see, two summers ago at the baptism of landon (one of holly’s other nephews, both belonging to her twin sister). it must’ve been august then–or september?–and holly’s mom asked if i could do it. i shrugged and said, sure, why not. i felt a sense of pride that she would bestow such an important task in my hands–hands that, at that point, were not all that accustomed to digital cameras. i felt weird enough, being in a church at all, had never been to a baptism and taking photos to boot? but i rose to the challenge, as they say, and before i knew it, was zooming in on the holy water like a pro. this time around, holly’s mom didn’t even ask me; i brought her camera along and got up with holly, her two sisters, niece and brother-in-law when the pastor called them up to the front.

i mean, here’s the thing: i’m just a jewish girl from new jersey. and, really, it was just a coincidence that i didn’t wear all black yesterday morning. usually i feel like i stick out like a sore thumb, not only in holly’s town, but in her family. it’s been tough-going w/both our families over the past seven years. but holly’s family, they’re tight. they fight hard, but they love even harder. getting used to “us” (and me, esp. me) has been a process. and i’m the first to admit that i’ve been a giant pain the ass (i’d blame it more on culture shock vs. actually being a pain in the ass, tho i can def. be one of those, too) but being up there, involved like i was, my fear of being at the front of the church, in view of absolutely everybody, to get a good shot, my hesitation of not actually being a “real” part of the family…it all sort of slipped away. in fact, i don’t think i’ve ever felt more like a part of the family. in the midst of it, i turned around to look at everyone in the pews, and holly’s mom and i locked eyes for a moment–and we both smiled at each other. it put a lump in my throat, it really did. b/c in that moment, for the very first time, i felt like i really belonged there. i wanted to be there and ppl wanted me there. seven years in the making and not a moment too soon. welcome to the world, baby brennan! i’m aunt jessica. nice to meet you.

holly (aka, the Baby Whisperer) and brennan, post-baptism.

hot damn

i love all you people! <<sigh>> and i love your comments! it’s hard for me to believe all the ppl who actually want to read this craziness. bless your little hearts, i love ya for it.

i pledge to try and update as regularly as possible (tho, as mentioned below, the occasional headache might strike me down for a day or two). i’m going to “WESTERN PA” tomorrow afternoon. [yes, there was yet another baby born into holly's gi-norm-o family(his name's brennan and, yes, he's fabulous) so we have a baptism to attend. (and *yes*, when mentioning towns and cities in pennsylvania, you must say "PA" (pronounced "PEE-AY"), especially when you're referring to western PA. omg, *esp.*) example: washington, PEE-AY, pittsburgh, PEE-AY, ferdonia, PEE-AY] perhaps i’ll check in from there and tell you how hard it is to eat around all the pork and fried food. for a kosher jew on weight watchers?? yeah, notsomuch.

here’s the thing about our first dance

i never imagined a first dance. i mean, i never even imagined getting married. [not that i didn't want to, i was just never one of those girls who dreamed of being the princess bride, if you will. (tho, as a precocious elementary school student (one who perhaps didn't brush her hair as much as she should've (picture my mom and my grandma both working on a single knot somewhere on the back of my head. yeah, second grade was a rough year). however, i do remember daydreaming in elementary school that when i made it to middle school (gasp!), i'd have a boyfriend (perhaps resembling a NKOTB'er?) who'd carry my books for me down the hallway (and we all see how well THAT one worked out! gay!)] but as i was saying, seeing how i never imagined even getting married, i never imagined having what’s known as a “first dance.” holly, on the other hand, is all about wedding traditions. so when she first asked me, innocently and with much hope and anticipation, “honey, what song should we have our first dance to?” i was like, with all my bigmouth jersey charm, “w-w-w-WHAT?”

i pictured us, holding each other, swaying to the music, face to face…and then BOOM! mom and dad are down for the count. ALL the mammas and the poppas are out (and perhaps a sibling here and there), and suddenly we’re all shouting, “IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE? OUR PARENTS HAVE FINALLY FIGURED OUT WE’RE TOGETHER AND THEY’VE FAINTED!” 

omg omg omG. my fingers are ice as i write this. what are we gonna doooooo???

we have no one to blame but ourselves. we have coddled our families so much they don’t even realize we’re together. (“oh holly and jessica? they’re just good friends. oh yeah, the best of friends! they’re roommates and they even bought a house together! isn’t that just darling?” yeah, notsomuch.) like i said, they know but they don’t. denial is a powerful thing, ppl. ok, so before you tsk tsk us, let me explain. when holly and i met (in 2001, woh), i was what you might call…an angry gay. i was always rantin’ and ravin’ ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM. DEAL W/IT, PPL, AND GO TO HELL WHILE YOU’RE AT IT. (omg, was i really like that? (silence) yes, i think i was. maybe i am goth. wait, no.) but holly, in all her quiet wisdom, would tell me, “honey, you need to give ppl time. we need to give our families time. they’ll come around.” and so for seven+ years now, if we’re with family and we’re sitting, say, on a couch, for example, we’re at least two feet away from each other at all times. when holly’s sisters are holding hands or innocently cuddling w/their husbands, yup, you guessed it–still two feet away from each other. no hugging, no hand holding and definitely not even a peck on the cheek.

we do this so we don’t make our families uncomfortable. it’s funny, how when you’re gay or have a same-sex partner or just not of the “norm,” being “respectful” means not doing same things other couples do. i mean, i’m not really on the bitter bus about it (i mean, i am a little, but, well, you know), but it does suck. so yeah, that’s why our first dance might (might?) be weird. [oh i'm so glad i'm not a mind-reader b/c i do not want to hear what's going thru ppl's minds as we swaaaaay to the music. ("who's the man and who's the woman?" "omg, are they gonna kiss? puh-leeeeze tell me they're not gonna kiss!" "oh i think i'm gonna throw up." "uh, maybe now's a good time to go to the bathroom? wait, will the song be over by the time i get back?")]

screw it all to hell, tho. eff it. cause we’re DANCIN’, ppl. oh, we’re gonna dance. and you better believe we’re gonna be happy and crying and i have a hunch everything else around us is just gonna disappear. cause at that moment (oh man, here i go tearing up again), it’s just going to be me and her. and if anyone doesn’t like it, well, too bad. cause, as holly says, “this is our one chance.” this our one chance to show our families that hell yes, we’re together. and, as the wise holly also says, “we’re gonna make everyone as uncomfortable as possible!” ‘atta girl! see why i’m marrying her? she really kicks ass.