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.

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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 picture 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.

what did the russian dressmaker say to the gay jew?

wait, um. lemme guess! w-w-w-wait! i, ummmm….don’t….i don’t know! tell me tell me!

sorry to disappoint’cha, but that joke doesn’t have a punchline b/c that joke is my life. (and no, silly! i’m not the russian dressmaker! i’m the gay jew!!! you so crazy!)

yesterday was my appointment to get measured for my wedding dress [yes, the Big Fat Gay Wedding (which will be referred to, upon second reference from this point on, as BFGW)]. it will be made from scratch by a lovely dressmaker (recommended by a particularly faaaabulous newscaster) who hails from belarus(say: bella-ROOS) (which, i mean, isn’t really russia, right? but they’re pretty close and hell! it’s so much easier to just say “russian dressmaker” than, uh, “belaru…belaroooooosian (??) dressmaker,” yes?) and works in the armpit that is the baltimore ‘hood of pikesville (sorry if any of my readers are from pikesville, but i just can’t deal w/the place. it’s like walking out of north jersey hebrew school circa ’88 to meet my mom in the carpool line except not quite as many beemers and ‘benzes and oh yeah! we had a buick w/baaaaad squeaky breaks back then and a hand-me-down-car before that we called “the green tank.”have i mentioned hebrew school seriously scarred me? like, the girls from north caldwell(home to tony and carmela soprano’s actualhouse) wouldn’t talk to me for weeks until i had my mom buy me white keds. more on that another day. *shudder*).

but anyway, i digress. the reason why there’s no punchline is that i was scared to tell her i’m having a same-sex wedding. this is very rare for me, as i generally am pretty open (read: “mypartnerhollythis, mypartnerhollythat“) w/the gay stuff. but i am so desperate to have this perfect perfect dress (YES I’M WEARING A DRESS TO MY BFGW, NOT A TUX, PPL, A DRESS) and i can’t get myself to jeopardize it. so when she asked me in her russian (belaroooooosian?) accent, “is that where’s he’s from?” [“he” meaning my fiance, errr, holly. (um, henry??)] i really and truly didn’t know what to say. i kinda felt like the wind was knocked outta me. she asked when i was explaining that i lived in d.c. before baltimore. (i know, not the most exciting conversation, but gimme a break; i was topless, nervous and covered in measuring tape) i was like, “um, no, pennsylvania.” then she asked where “he” lives now, and i said, “we live in baltimore.” and she paused and said, “oh, so you live together.” now, i don’t claim to be an expert in the nuances of human conversation or anything, but i think she seemed surprised. and if she’s surprised that we live together (own a home together, even), well then i think i shouldn’t bring up the whole actually-i’m-not-marrying-a-man-actually-it’s-a-wo-man thing just yet. notsomuch. (but i plan to tell her once we’re underway, and i’ll bet money that i’m misjudging her.)

so the measuring went well, i think. then we (dressmaker, her assistant and i) all went to joann fabric up the road in owings mills, and she proceeded to demonstrate the importance of squeezing the material to make sure it doesn’t get easily wrinkled. (“since you’ll be getting up and sitting down and getting up,” she explained.) i felt really cool going around this otherwise lame suburban fabric store w/these two dressmakers who were going on and on about mysterious dressmaking things in a language i couldn’t understand. i also was overcome by the feeling that i was (am) in such good hands.

when i was gearing up to leave, she gave me the nicest hug and i swear i felt like breaking down into tears right there. i was like, “thank you so much for taking care of me. my mom’s up in new jersey and…” (lump in throat) and she was like, with the nicest twinkle in her eye, “don’t worry. i take care of you.”

there is absolutely nothing wrong with eating lunch at 11:30

in fact, i encourage it.

there’s two things you ought to know about me before you read this any further: one, this is, for all intents and purposes, a blog still very much in test-mode. well, these first entries anyway. i don’t have a clue of its focus as of yet, and it’s very existence is most likely due to whey protein overload (thank YOU starbucks smoothie! have you tried yet? omG delish!) and over-caffeination (again: thank you, my dear old friend S. Bux), but mostly my fabulous food blogger friend—and bff, i must add—nicole, she of cucinanicolina—who advised me the other day (after excessive cross-country txt msging, i may add.) to “just start.” just to start typing and see where it takes me. so here i am!

number two: yes, i do—more often than not—eat lunch at 11:30. that’s a.m. sometimes even earlier. in fact, oftentimes i’m hungry for lunch at 10:30. (like right now, as i write this.) i used to be embarrassed to even admit it, let alone eat it. but i don’t care anymore. i suppose i’ll discuss some of the reasons why i think get hungry so early in later posts (these will all be theories, as i really and truly do not know). but for now, i’m just putting it out there.
and hell, i’ll add a couple more things while i’m at it:
1. i get a lot of headaches. unfortunately. so if i disappear for a couple days, that’s probably why. fear not, tho! i always return. usually in a downright awesome mood.
2. um, i wear a lot of black, but, contrary to popular belief (and by popular belief i mean that of middle-aged admin ladies), am not goth. not goth. just from jersey. wear frosty lipstick, too. also a north jersey trait, i’ve discovered. am also a big fan of bangs. and i hear i chew gum pretty loudly, too. classy chick, right?? 

3. i’m 29, on the cusp of 30 (october thankyouverymuch), but feel perpetually 15. in fact, i frequent mall psuedo-punk franchise hot topic more than i’d like to admit. (hey, cut me some slack, ppl. where’s a girl supposed to find a ramones t-shirt around these parts anyway?) funny thing is that when i walk in, the grumpy (but pleasantly so) cashiers say hi like i’m not the office drone i some days fear i’ve become so i guess i put up a pretty good front. (well, i guess the bangs help. also said loud gum-chewing.)
4. i live in baltimore. (lots more on baltimore in the near-future, i’m sure.) grew up in, yes, new jersey. lived in D.C. for a good long while and miss it terribly (but still get my hairs did there, so you know i’m back pretty often) what else, what else…ah, right. am gay, gay, gay. in fact, i’m having what i like to call a Big Fat Gay Wedding this fall. i’m tying the knot with my fabulous holly, partner of seven+ years. i’m also jewish. so the gay jokes and the jewish jokes are ON, ppl. don’t even start. b/c if you ARE one, you can poke fun. and, if nothing else, this blog’s gonna be fun.

i think that’s all for now, b/c i’m hungry as all get-out. like, my hands are practically shaking. i know, right?? and it’s not even 11:30.