Garvin did something last night and now my blog won't republish itself. This means there might be comments or changes made that haven't shown up. Hell, if this shows up I'll be amazed. I'll be so amazed that I'll sit down and drink a beer and watch the Browns game at four-something later on.

Anyway, if things look weird or out of joint, that's because I just found out it's 7:30, not 8:30, and I'm not going to wake him up to fix it just yet. Damn Daylight Saving Time.

I think I'm turning into an 80 year old man. Please, if you see me hiking my pants up to my armpits, just wack me in the head with a shovel. I'm tired, my knee hurts, and I'm covered in bruises I can't explain. Also, you people drive like maniacs and there's nothing good on the radio anymore. Teenage girls show too much skin. Wipe that makeup off your face, young lady! Everything's too expensive. TV shows are loud and change scenes every two seconds. I have yogurt in my fridge that I can't eat. Everything I own is covered in cat hair. I have a weird fascination with the weather, and I like to sit on my porch and yell stuff at the people passing by. I dunk pickles in my tea.

Skipper has a theory that everyone in my generation is "elderly." Please, take a moment to examine your life, your hobbies and your complaints. Are YOU elderly, too?

I like to consider myself a fine, upstanding American woman. I may not wear crying Eagle T-shirts or cover my car in magnets to verify to myself and others that I'm a good person, but I generally tend to drink domestic beers (at least on dollar draft night) and the last time I saw someone wearing a "these colors don't run" t-shirt I only joked about spraying it with bleach and laughing hysterically. I'm also a 12 year member of the American Legion Auxiliary, which consists of many public service activities including but not limited to wearing white sneakers and marching to Harry Connick Jr. music while my mom and aunt try not to break any of their digits twirling fake rifles whilst marking time and booty shaking. It's the sort of activity that makes my heart swell with pride, although in the interest of fairness that chest tightness also MIGHT be from my dinner, which happens to be expired-discounted-organic-shells-and-white-chedder, which I got at Tops and attempted to cook while simultaneously removing my boots, eating a pickle and trying to keep Louise from making love to my leg. She's in heat and is acting VERY unladylike, although that's not really not why I decided to post tonight.

This morning I heard a political commercial wherein a woman lamented the Iraq War. Obviously, people are dying and she is upset. Her exactly complaint was that (and I am paraphrasing since I heard this at 7:30 a.m.) if Bush wants people to go fight and die overseas, he can damn well send people from HIS own family, and stop killing off people from hers.

Obviously the expected knee-jerk reaction is for the listener to say "yeah! Why AREN'T Bush's underage teenage daughters fighting as soldiers in the Iraq war?!"

I'm not going to get into personal politics. I like to think that I'm like YOU, America. I have somewhere between 0 and 1000 problems with the current administration, and I believe that my rigorous schedule of learning how to do keg stands and working at a brainless office job gives me full bossing rights to dictate how the country should be run. I often find myself bitching to people about how things would be different if I were in charge, only in my case "different" means that there would be more 24 hour restaurants that serve nothing but soup and there would be separate parking lots for cars of different sizes, because I'm tired of trying to slowly back out from in between a SUV and a F150 only to have to slam on my brakes to avoid being rammed by some unseen mini-van. Hell, if whining about the wait for the new Futurama episodes doesn't fully qualify me to run the country, what does?

ANYWAY, here's the thing. REGARDLESS of how you personally feel about The War, or War in General, or Bush, or Republicans, or Democrats, or Iraq, or various religions neither of us understand, a commercial wherein someone bitches that their family members in the military are actually *gasp* doing military activities is pretty ignorant.

The people who are overseas right now SIGNED UP for the military. I know the Army likes to air those slick, fancified commercials that imply you can join the Service for the reasons of learning wireless networking and meteorology and mountain climbing, but there's also that little thing where you learn to use various types of weaponry and ballistics. And guess what?! The reason you learn about weapons in the military is because...write this down, kids...sometimes, people are going to shoot back. Yes! What did you think those guns shot? FLOWERS?! Furthermore, if you don't think it's fair that a vast beaurocracy would make you fight in a war you don't technically believe in, then DON'T JOIN THE MILITARY. It's not like a Choose Your Own Adventure book where you can pick and choose what's "noble" and what's "wrong." I mean, why the hell do you think they're wearing HELMETS in these commercials?!

I'm not saying that you shouldn't join the army, but for crying out loud, make sure your family doesn't wander around wringing their hands saying "gosh, I can't belive Johnny had to go over there where they're blowing up buildings every day! How can this happen?" Someone, please explain to these people that it's one of those occupational hazards we've all come to know and love. Turn on your TV or take a gander around your library. Look how many war documentaries and stories there are out there. If you are surprised that people in the military go to war, well, you probably need to watch a little more AMC there, Buster Brown, or maybe at least read something that ISN'T porn, for a change.

So yeah. To sum up: like him or hate him, you probably shouldn't suggest that Bush send his high school aged daughters to Iraq, because they can't legally enter into a binding contract yet, and you probably shouldn't go into a job if you're not totally clear on the job duties, especially if those job duties might involve being cannon fodder for a good cause or not.

Let's read things before we sign them people, and let's stop wasting money on party-sponsored political commercials, because I'm sure we could spend it on more important things. Such as pie.

Dear Cleveland Drivers,

A funny thing happens around this time of year. The air gets colder, your windshield gets harder to see out of in the morning, and sometimes...sometimes in late October, sometimes later...sometimes a strange phenomena has been known to happen. The sky gets really overcast and the wind picks up, and these fluffy white things fall from the sky. They're wet and slippery, and they say each one is unique in its crystal structure. Fear not, loyal Clevelanders, for these white bits are not the cold tears of dear departed Browns fans, falling from above upon a land where our favorite team can go two and a half quarters without a first down. Nay, this cold white stuff is something known as "snow."

Lately I've noticed that people seem to want to celebrate this occurrance by stopping completely on inappropriate stretches of road, such as I-90. People! This is a major interstate! It is not for stopping and gawking! Especially not if you have lived in Cleveland for most of your life. To be perfectly frank, if you are SURPRISED by snow in late October in Cleveland, Ohio, you are, excuse my familiarity, a fucking brain-dead moron.

Snow! On the road! Oh my God! It's wet and slippery! I'm going to turn my lights off, slam on my brakes as hard as I can and skate across four lanes to park not so gently up against a barrier! Yes! That seems appropriate! Snow! Sweet bloody Grover Cleveland, let's huddle up to the car in front of us for warmth! A brilliant plan! Snow! Never fear, I have four-wheel drive, I'm going to do 80 m.p.h. anyway despite the "roll" warnings on my SUV, the SUV I drive in bloody WESTLAKE, where there is nowhere to "offroad" per ce. Snow! I'm going to drive 35 in a 50, and then 10 in a 35 because that makes TOTAL SENSE! Snow! God, I hate driving in the snow. I'm going to go spend a lot of money on a REAR WHEEL DRIVE vehicle and then bitch when I can't pull myself out of a ditch! Yes! God, yes! Yes, yes yes!

*ahem*
Sorry, dear Cleveland drivers, it's just that I get so excited. I mean, I've only seen 24 winters, and still when I see snow I'm just so damn surprised I almost piss my pants. Really, who would have thought that when it turns late fall on the lakefront that winter would be around the corner?! What possible warning have we had?! I mean, it's only October. It's only Cleveland. It's so unexpected.

Listen. Yes. Snow can be dangerous. So use some common sense, fill up your wiper fluid, buckle up, and for the love of all that is holy, get some car insurance. Accidents WILL happen, that's why we pay the man.

Sincerely,
Someone who is going to start taking the bus.

Two-part video of the wedding. Yes, it shares intimate personal details. Don't stalk us, because I'll have to cut you, and then I'll feel bad.

Anyway, Pat took this and edited it and added the hip-hop music, which I think is hilarious, given the hippie circus feel of the whole affair. It was a really sweet gift, and I'm glad he caught the beauty of the combine going off during the prayer.

Go Browns!

www.youtube.com/user/rickymcrickerson

If I could sum up the theme of our wedding in a simple phrase, it would be this: there were tailgaters. I don't have a picture of that just quite yet, but I do have to very amusing pictures provided by Jenny and Allison, which I think also capture the feel of the day.

Ian: Do I need to take pictures tonight of the rehearsal dinner?
Me: No, it's going to be small and ghetto. But thanks for asking.
Ian: Ok, I just wanted to know before I get totally crocked tonight.
Me: That's cool. Just so you know, I expect crocked pictures from you tomorrow though.
Ian: OK. I'll try to keep my pants on this time though.
Me: Enh, whatever.

Somehow I accidentally ordered 492 mini-cheesecakes.
I'm really glad the lady at GFS called me back.
As I was straightening it out on the phone, my boss was listening.
Her response? "Hey, I wouldn't mind eating cheesecake for the next three weeks."

Too bad I'm lactose intolerant.

I work in a busy law firm, and it leaves me with pretty much no time at all for all of the things I need to do this week. Also, somehow we're squeezing in a rehearsal dinner/bachelor party on Friday night. Look, guys. All I can say is if you get Garvin too drunk to be helpful on Saturday, or so hungover that the marriage isn't technically legal, I will personally come and stab you with my size 5 knitting needles. They're pretty brutal, in addition to being a lovely sky blue. (I'm making Browns mittens!!!!!)

Anyway, the bachelorette party was pretty fun. I made a total drunken ass of myself and Vikki almost carried me up the stairs, which was pretty hot. Also, some lady in a denim jacket (who assured me she was straight, although I don't believe it for a second) kept making me dance with her and shouting "you're the bride!!!" And if you ever are in Bounce and need to use the restrooms, keep in mind their doors are not so much doors as worthless hunks of metal that don't cover ANYTHING, and that the restrooms are pretty gender arbitrary.

I'm sure I'll post pictures later, at least, that depends on how Jen's came out. I think they probably started out all nice and focused and silly and gradually got blurrier and blurrier. Which is actually how the whole night seems in my memory.

I want to apologize for being hard to get ahold of lately. I have approximately 8 days before I get married, and, well, there are still a few things that need to be done, which is rather hard when you have some sort of group activity scheduled every night.

Tonight's activity is my bachelorette party. We're going to a gay bar, and I fully plan on drinking too much and getting into an embarassing yet still perfectly innocent situation with a person of dubius gender. I'm sure we'll have pictures.

I also plan on watching the Browns game this weekend and trying to cook. Carefully observe the mess behind us in this picture:

At some point that mess transformed itself into cool buffalo chicken, and it was pretty good. At least, I didn't get food poisoning or anything like that. Plus the Browns won. Let's hope this week goes just as well.

For the past few days I've noticed an increase in visitors. Imagine my delight when a closer look at my StatCounter revealed that I was getting visits from http://www.search.orange.co.uk, and that the phrase being searched was "sexy ladies who are rude."

If you type it in yourself, you'll notice that I pop up at a grandiose number nine. It's only a matter of time before I hit number one. That will be a proud, proud day.