Tag Archives: wedding

Always a bridesmaid.

I really cannot remember if I’ve mentioned this or not, but I am a bridesmaid this summer, yet again.

It’s just one wedding, and it’s out of state, so it’s not like I’ve been bogged down with the details and all of the parties like I was last summer. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I have had to email the bride several times about details…details like “what shoes should we wear down the aisle?” Hair? Makeup? What should I wear to the rehearsal dinner? The bridal luncheon? etc.

At this point, I’ve got my dress, booked my flight and my hotel room (Totaling $650, just saying), and that’s pretty much all I know.

I got the flight that arrives in her city super early in the morning the day before the wedding thinking that I hadn’t seen this chick in a solid two years and she might want to catch up, or at the very least, might want company for errands or getting nails done or whatever.

When I emailed her saying just FYI, my flight gets in Friday at 7:30 am, let me know if you’d like help with anything! She wrote me back saying 7:30? Wow, don’t think the hotel will let you check in that early, but call and see. Don’t forget about the shuttle from the airport to the hotel.

Umm really bitch?

Like I do not expect a personal limo to pick me up, but I’m not just a guest. You asked me to stand in your wedding. I think you could pick me up from the airport. And no, the hotel charges to check in early so you would THINK that perhaps you could drop me off at your HOUSE for a nap or something? Oh but no, it’s ok.

I’ve decided to bring my laptop and a big fat book, and hang out at the local Starbucks until it’s acceptable pool hours, and then I will proceed to get hammered at the pool by myself.

There are the other 2 problems occurring during this awesome wedding weekend.

1. No drinking.

Ever since this girl has been dating this dude, she cut back on the drinking. And hey, I’m all for changing for the better. But this bitch used to PARTY until she pissed herself. And once we started planning the pre-wedding lingerie shower, I got the vibe that no alcohol would be present.

Umm scusie? But if I’m going to be drinking out of a dick straw, there will be vodka coming out of it. okay?

2. Out of all 6 bridesmaids, I’m the only one coming solo to this event and I refuse to be sober for more than 10 minutes the entire weekend. That’s just how I deal. If the other ladies don’t drink, that’s cool, but there will be no judgment, ok?

I was then wondering if the wedding would be dry. I have never been to a dry wedding. I’ve only been to open bar. The stories I’ve heard about dry weddings are awful…no one dances, and it’s rather boring.

Well, my nightmares came true, when I checked back on the invitation and the reception is at the church. Yippity do da. So, I am taking my flask, shoving that shit in my bra and I’ll be guzzling homemade vodka-sprites until the cake is cut and then I’m out of that bitch.

Anyone got any advice for surviving a dry wedding?

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We’re getting married…to dudes!

That’s right, you read correctly, Me (Lucky) and my best pal Gizzy are finally getting hitched…and NOT to each other!

And so, like every other bride to be, there’s planning to be done, cakes to eat, parties to attend, registries to build, and of course, a wedding website to capture it all!  Wondering who the lucky gents are? Read and weep my friends…

Follow us on our newest journey: Lucky & Gizzy’s Fairytale Wedding

Happy Valentine’s/Single Awareness Day!

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Facebook Statuses From Last Night: Gizzy’s Cousins Edition

For all of eternity I have said that if I ever get married I will elope in a foreign country and invite only my parents, my husband’s parents, and Lucky.  Here are some examples of why:

I present to you each of my cousin’s most recent facebook statuses, plus a little commentary from me:

you think your so hick by the way you talk and what you wear.. news flash hun, clothes can be bought, and you clearly watch the guys too much.. you cant just be a hick after one summer, you should be your whole life.. you gotta live it not wear it.(: (No. No smiley face. First, like 15 people liked this status.  Second, yes the way you talk and what you wear is what makes you a hick. After that one summer I am assuming the individual she is referring to participated in hick like activities such as riding 4 wheelers, attending monster truck rallys, and wearing camouflage not for funsies but to hunt wild animals – as one must do these summer activities in order to be accepted into the coveted hick crowd, which my cousin is clearly a part of.  If you ask me, talking hick + dressing hick + participating in hick like activities = hick – but what would I know? I’m an outsider.)

The first nite we hang out we wrecked ur truck, went to jail u lost us job, ur license and got chared with endangering my life and u still want to be with me . I only have one question y? (Christ.)

just because you live in our state doesnt mean your a hilljack, just because you got a pair of boots doesnt mean your cool.. just because you drink mcdonalds sweet tea does not mean your not from the south.. (So like, what’s the effing deal with hilljacks and why would anyone in their right mind try to be one on purpose? Also, I’m confused in regards to the McDonalds sweet tea.  First, we are not from the south.  Second, did I miss the memo that it is only acceptable for Yankees to drink McDonalds sweet tea to prove to other disbelieving northers they are in fact from the north? It’s arguable that people all around the world drink McDonalds sweet tea everyday because not only is it good, but it is 1 dollar. Also, boots do make you cool…

…The club does not lie.)

ya right, like i really coulda said somethin, you wouldnt have heard me if a train was coming.. (??? I dont get it? This is the status of the mother of the two hick-wannabe haters so that kind of explains it.)

At home watchin tv (Someone actually liked this.)

Brad locked himself in the bathroom. Stuck for 1/2 hr. Chad was throwing a fit the whole time. Grandpa and grandma had to take the door off to get him out! Then they just sat in the floor hugging each other. Must be a twin thing……….(LOLZ!!!)

Heading back from lunch… Gonna be a good day… Cold day… But a goodern 🙂 (Maybe cousins 1 & 3 from above could direct their hilljack posing friends to this cousin for hilljack lessons.)

I got an infestion problem at the house today. So if anyone goes by my house don’t yell out immagration. There’s a crew of mexicans fixing my roof. (Le sigh.)

Ya know fightin in a basement offers a lot of difficulties.. #1 being your fightin in a basement!! (I’m not sure that I care to know what this is about.)

Apparently my mom can roll a joint out of a sugar packet and parsley flakes what can ur mom do? (Unfortunately, I was present for this.  On our cruise last year my aunt did indeed roll a joint out of a sugar packet and oregano, lit it, and pretended to smoke it. Her son is proud.)

To funny!! We are eating at taco bell, and the we will rock you song comes on. The part where they say ” you big disgrace” Riley yells out loud ” you biscuit case” lol I thought it was to funny not to share 🙂 (LOLZ^2!!)

Exactly one year ago today Kyle told me he loved me for the first time!! I love you!!! ❤ (Oh fuck off, you’re 19 you don’t know what love is.)

So, hey, happy Wednesday everyone – from my family to yours.
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To Gizzy’s house: part I.

Alright, so after my lone night of love in Texas, I caught my plane to Gizzy’s house and arrived looking cuter than I should have.  This is true, I showed up in my jammies and the first thing I asked Lucky was if she had showered at Airport Matt’s- you wouldn’t have guessed she had spent the past 24 hours drinking in an airport and sleeping at a stranger’s apartment with nothing but the clothes on her back by the way she looked. 

I found Gizzy in the baggage claims/complaint line because my original flight was United/Continental, and I flew in on American. So I knew my bag wouldn’t be there, but I also knew it was in the airport, just not at the current terminal.  This is what we call teamwork.  We saved ourselves a good 3o minutes by me getting in the line as soon as I got there.  Although, I had planned on preparing a giant “Lucky, Welcome To My City!” poster to hold up at security when she got off the plane had we not had to deal with the giant cunt American Airlines.

Well, the lady at American Airlines didn’t understand that. So she filed a claim to find my luggage. It was completely unnecessary, but I’d been awake since 4:30 and just wanted to get out of there.  She also didn’t understand that tan=beige while Lucky described her bag.

So, we finally get to Gizzy’s, I meet the roomies, and we see the bachelor party was in full-swing. Holla! It was 10am and approximately 15 guys were standing in my kitchen ripping shots.  Sometimes I do enjoy living with boys, this was one of those times, they immediately offered us a beer and a shot.  I even saw a few guys I had never met that I’d be interested in having a random make out with.

Gizzy and I talked some, and she had birthday presents waiting, which I happily ripped into—ahem, one of the gifts was a wine glass that holds an entire bottle of wine. And yes, we put this to the test later that night.  We are…awesome.

While we wait on my luggage, we decided to go to brunch. At that point, I wasn’t too worried about my luggage, I just wanted to make sure I would have it that night so I would have all the proper supplies for a shower and a nice night out for the birthday.

So we go to this bar, where there was absolutely no one, but we order some awesome bloody marys (garnished with sausage) and eggs.

During our lunch discussion, we talked shop—guys, parents, and then…my luggage. I called the number the lady at American gave me and come to find that they “haven’t found” my luggage. It had been 3 hours. Come. On. So, we decide to go home, call Continental/United and see if they know where my bag is.

The guy is all, “oh yeah it’s at the airport at the Continental terminal.” Surprisingly the most helpful person she spoke with to this day.

Sweet. So we hop in the car and head back to the airport. We get to the Continental/United terminal and walk up to a big desk that says UNITED on it. The lady takes her sweet ass time addressing our presence and finally askshow she can help us.

I tell her I’m looking for my bag and hand her my baggage claim ticket.

“Oh, well this was a UNITED flight so you need to go to the United desk.”

“Ummm it says United right behind you.”

“Yeah but it says Continental right HERE,” she says, pointing to a small, paper sign from a printer.  Think Vanna White pointing, she had definitely rehearsed that shit at home.

“Ok sweet, where is the United desk?”

“Since it’s a United flight I can’t help you.”

“Yeah, I heard you. Where’s the United desk?” (This just makes me laugh, and also reminds me of a story that’s yet to come when Lucky tells a hostess at a restaurant “I heard you, I’m not retarded.”  BAHH! Good times, good times.)

She points to a small desk about 20 steps away. So we go there. And once again, the lady treats me like I have half a brain.

“How can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m looking for my bag.”

“A claim?”

“Umm I don’t know, just looking for my bag.”

“Okay, that’s called a CL-AIM. What city you coming from?”

“Houston.”

“All Houston bags are at terminal 7.”

“Even if it came last night?”

“Look in the cage.”

Thanks for the tremendous help. I could see my bag from the desk, so we walked over and waited for her to unlock the cage.

As we walked to Gizzy’s car with our prize, I realized the lady didn’t scan my bag or check it in. Making it still technically a lost bag—American Airlines would never know. And I didn’t tell them. So yeah, I’ve still been getting messages on my phone saying they’ve been unable to locate my luggage.  As have I, it took over a week for a real person to call.

Anyway, we get back to the hizzy, I change my clothes and we decide to go up on the roof for a round of drinking games—the party really needed to get started. We weren’t up there for more than 20 minutes, when we heard guys coming in the house 4 stories down.

Naturally, we race down into the kitchen to find 4 random dudes from the bachelor party, ready to light shit up.  I introduce myself to them as “Hi I’m Gizzy, I live here, who are you?” We find out that it’s the groom’s little brother – which is what I had suspected.  Him and his friends are all 20.  SA-WEET!  They were at the apartment drinking to kill time while they waited on one of the guy’s girlfriend to show up and while the rest of the bachelor party was at a baseball game.  Ahh 20 year olds, so much to learn about life.  I’d hate to be the d-bag that invited a girl to a bachelor party.  Having Lucky and I there was bad enough, but they couldn’t do anything about that.

“LADIES YOU HAVE TO TAKE SHOTS WITH US!!!” They said.

I mean these guys were in college, but shit, they were all over the place. It took them at least an hour to get my name right, like I know it’s a weird name but it’s not difficult once you hear it – it’s not JIZZY, like you jizzed your pants or Gisele like the model, it’s Gizzy as in Gizzy get your roll on.  I still don’t know that they ever learned Lucky’s name – she was “Birthday Girl” for the better part of the day.  After telling us we needed to take shots a babillion times, it still took them forever to get organized enough to pour 6 shots. And boy, were they so excited to get to drink warm Smirnoff…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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