Friday, January 05, 2007

Flash II

Since yesterday's activities were so couple-strengthening, this morning Josh The Pilot and I decided to present yet another photographer with the challenge of capturing the world's palest person against a monochrome background. The proofs are like a flip-book of the slow degeneration of my hairspray.

Is there dumber idea in the wedding tradition than an engagement portrait? I never sleep, I hate the entire Earth, yesterday we almost knocked over the ascot table during a tuxedo vest-related scuffle at Men's Wearhouse: Let's preserve the moment! With the finest equipment on the photographic market!

The most important thing, of course, is to ensure that the groom is seen as little as possible, in the proper context:
We were directed into a wide variety of poses. "Josh, I 'm going to need you to perform the Heimlich on your fiancee.""Okay, now let the light of God shine gently upon your faces."

"All right, now we need Photoshop fodder for everybody who hates you."

"Okay, now, Mary Beth, knee your pending husband in the nads."

"That's great. And one more to get you kicked out of the Catholic Church. Be sure your fiance schools his expression to look like he's supporting eighteen anvils on his back."

"Now make everybody vomit."

"One more to create the impression you're responsible adults and not people who eat macaroni out of the pan while watching VH1's 50 Most Rockingest Moments Ever."

It's a good thing we kind of like each other.

aw at:

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Orange Line

Pat The Reader And Editor very kindly offered us IMAX tickets today, so Josh The Pilot and I went to meet her. It was a simple thing to accomplish, and we of course whizzed it, displaying our intense appreciation by appearing forty-five minutes late.

Given that the last time I was in Washington DC, I was thigh-cellulite deep into a depression I didn't even know I was in, an After School Special-level depression that made me peer between louver drape slats out at the rain and listen to Dido music without irony. I figured things couldn't get much worse this time around.

Lo, I have misunderestimated the Metro.

First there was a Parking Incident. We drove to a Metro station, conveniently located four inches out of the Beltway with stops every eight inches in between. There were no spaces, except for beneath signs reading NO PARKING HERE EVER EVER EVER, EXCEPT FOR EIGHT SECONDS EVERY OTHER TUESDAY AFTER THIS ONE BUT ONLY WHEN SAGITTARIUS IS IN PISCES AND A GIANTS LOSS COMBINES WITH A RAIDERS WIN AND JETS COVER. This was followed by an Incident of Tickets, in which we combined our decade of college education by attempting to cram our fare cards into slots positioned beneath touchpad screens that flashed WAVE CARDS HERE.

We then ratcheted down the tension by attempting to plot out our married-life budget during the train ride immediately following. Discussing how much income to allot to the separate churches the couple attends while both members are pissed and late and subjected to public transportation? These are the types of good communications decisions that are going to take us the distance.

Once off the Metro, everything took a turn for the homicidal; I will not get into the details except to report that the words "It's this way" and "No it's not" and "I cannot stand the way you exhale and then inhale again right after that" were employed.

Ah, this special, romantic time.

everybody direct apology rays in the general direction of Pat at:

Wednesday, January 03, 2007


I arrived in Leesburg last night flat on my back, slightly hurling, President Ford's funeral service coverage on the radio. There is a distinct possibility I will spend the next twenty years of my life here, and I wanted to make a good impression.

This is where Josh The Pilot lives and works. In six months, I will live and work here too, as his wife and deflector of wine in bags. The SuperTarget is very nice, as is the security lighting on the parking lot of the outlet mall. The four inches of sky and the Keystone Light empties I saw from the window smiled upon me as well. Virginia is approved; the F.F. Lees are well served.

I feel something approaching human again following the Season of Spew, and am now on the Diet of Things That Are White. Yesterday I had crackers, plain mashed potatoes, and vanilla pudding. Today I ventured into soup.

It's a new year, and a new life, and another chance at spices.

It's a new state.

cardinal to cardinal at:

Monday, January 01, 2007


Given that the final hours of my 2006 were marked by heavy spewing, interrupted only by writhing on the bathroom floor awaiting the next round of spew (NOT recommended for an abs workout), I have high hopes for '07.

My New Year's resolution is to stop making my sister's life so horribly interesting. Whenever I enter the home of Julie The NephewsMama, I manage to tow chaos. Here's how I've celebrated my past few visits:

-Cried when her neighbor ran her car into my rental car
-Cried when I ran my rental car into Julie's car
-Somehow completely shut down Windows on her home computer
-Vomited on her children's duck-shaped bathroom mat

"Well," she said as I apologized from behind a haze of Lysol and nausea, "you keep things... interesting." So did Saddam.

blaaaauuuuurrrgh at:

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Happy Spew Year

Tink woke up at 5 a.m. this morning with an urgent need to hurl. I'm trying not to take it personally. Last night we had a great time at Newport on the Levee, our first proper date as an engaged couple. On the way back to Julie and Britton's, MB told me she was feeling uneasy. I tend to have that effect on women so I didn't think too much about it. I thought I had shown MB a good time, but instead of gettin' some lovin' afterward I was almost spewed upon. Don't worry, she has assured me this is not a sign of how our marriage will be.

I really think her body is saying it's finally had enough of the beating she's endured for the last four months. Teaching five college classes, welcoming a new nephew into the world, publishing a book, going to France, doing a reading in New York, and getting engaged has taken its toll. Her stomach said, "Skyline is good, but not right now!" and you can imagine the rest. She's been wiped out all day. However, she still wanted to watch the Bengals game with me, which I think is really hot. What a great girl. :-)

The plan for today was after Mass we were going to have lunch with Fletch The Extremist. For those of you who don't know, Fletch is also a Cincinnati-ite. We were looking forward to seeing him before he heads off to Dallas for his big-boy internship with "Ding! You are free to move about the country" Airlines. Congrats Fletch! However, in light of Tink's condition, I sent Fletch a text message early this morning to cancel on him. Around noon, he calls me, in a very sleepy voice, "Hey, dude, are we still gonna have lunch?"

"Didn't you get my text message?"

"No, my phone doesn't get texts."

"Call me back when you arrive in the 21st century."

Good luck anyway, Fletch. I know you've really been looking forward to this.

Many thanks to Carah the BFFE and her husband for inviting us to their New Year's Eve party. Obviously, we're not going to make it. She called a little bit ago and I gave her the sad news. We'll have to wait until the wedding to meet.

We hope y'all have a great New Year's Eve. Don't be concerned about Tink and me; we're together so we'll be fine. She says she'd rather be sick and have me taking care of her on New Year's Eve than be healthy and out partying with some random guy. Ladies and gentlemen, that is why I'm marrying this wonderful woman.

In sickness and in health at:

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