Dang!

Dang is my new favorite word. It goes so well with everything.

Dang, I want me some shrimps!

Dang, that bootie is fat!

Dang, why does the media even report on stories about Barack Obama not being a citizen since it's not actual news and only serves to inflame nasty rumors? Dang.

Wedding planning is hard, and I never really considered what I'm doing to be a wedding. I had to pick decorations for cakes - like other crap they're going to squirt on the frosting with different colored frosting. Dang, can't you just pick something nice yourself, you do this for a living. My friends and family have been incredibly helpful. I spent thirty minutes on the phone with my brother, the bar captain, about how to ensure the bar is self-sustaining. My step-mother took us out to take pictures of us being "in love" so that she could make a shrine for guests to look at. She took about 117 photos and I kind of liked 1 photo.

I panicked on Monday that I hated the dresses I bought and was going to hate wearing them and had to return them and make an emergency midnight order from Macy's online (my arch nemesis) for express overnight delivery. They arrive today and hopefully, they don't effing suck or make me look fat, or have uni-boob or back fat. JKR and I had a bit of a marriage moment when I made him watch me try on a dress I hated to prove that everything is awful. It was strapless and he liked it, so I made him stare at the back and really truly promise that I didn't have back fat in the dress.

"Well. Here's the thing. You definitely don't have back fat, but I could see how potentially, at the wrong angle, there could seem to be a slight overhang of flesh that may or may not appear in photos, but you definitely don't have back fat."

On the bright side, our smashing glass arrived for the ceremony. The S'mores station is taken care of and the candybar is fully stocked and ready to go. The DJ is set to play four full hours of Ludacris, so that's great. We did get kicked out of the park where we were actually going to get married. There is this 300 year old mummified woman who is in charge of scheduling and it turns out, she forgot there was a memorial service and they had a permit that we didn't have so instead of 12-4, they decided on 5-10pm. I would have preferred to deal with someone that still had a pulse, but I think that's taken care of now. We just have to get married somewhere else. Last night, we transported a ginormo tent to the party site and accidentally cracked JKR's windshield in the process by closing the door too hard on the poles, which then smashed fairly hard into the front windshield. Lots of f-bombs for that one. Woops. This is why we can't have nice things. He'll learn.