because I'm just that good

Wedding Front News:
1) We've officially booked our ceremony and reception venues. Woo hoo!

2) Dad has a truck. Dad lives in S.F. Which means we won't have to pay $200 to get $70 worth of chairs delivered to the ceremony site. Yay, dad!

3) We met with the decorator lady from the reception site. She understands our budget. Phew!

4) I'm on my way down to the LBC after work tomorrow, to pick up some linens. $100 will give us just about everything we need, and we can re-coup some of the cost by selling it when we're done. Craig, I heart you.

5) A hint of possible future wonderfulness arrived tonight, c/o the fabulous His Parents. Even if it doesn't pan out, I'm just so touched by their generosity.

6) It's almost Easter. Hooray, bunnies!

(yeah, it's a rabbit with a comp card. whaddya want from me? it's L.A.)

7) This is officially Post #101. How'd that happen? Thanks for coming along for the ride. You kids keep me sane.*

*as long as we're grading on a curve.

i'll take Random for 500

Does anyone else always try to pronounce the weird-ass wavy "words" that pop up when you post a comment, to make sure you're not a) a robot, b) impersonating a robot, or c) short on patience? Because I do, and some of them are freaking me out.

Also, in the last 24 hours, two of my supposed non-words have been "trout" and "sperm."

I'm actively trying not to see a connnection.

i heart my hat!

My veil/hat/fascinator thingy (yes, that's a technical term; please try to keep up) is ready!


(I think I'll wear it a little more to the side than the bottom photo shows.)

It's PERFECT!

I met the lovely, amazing Kelly, aka Satanica, at a local craft fair called Unique L.A., back in December. I'd gone to the event on a hunt for "stuff I need for the wedding," without having any idea what that stuff might be. After wandering around cluelessly for almost as much time as I had on my meter (parking downtown = grrrrr) I found her stand. As I pawed, repeatedly, through a wide variety of veiled hats & headbands, she mentioned that she could custom-make something for me, if I didn't see exactly what I wanted. Oh, swoon.

The best part is that I bartered a little for an extra-friendly price. I'm "donating" my modelling skills for her upcoming photo-shoot needs. Hooray!

And just in case you're wondering, Satanica is her stage name, from back when she used to twirl fire batons.

** Holy crap ... I have a veil. I'm getting freakin' married!

Houston, we have a venue!

Not that I think the city of Houston would care. And while my Gay Ex-Boyfriend's last name is pronounced "Houston", I frankly don't think he's aware of our wedding plans, and it would be odd, to say the least, for me to call him out of the blue & inform him. (How I ended up dating a gay man for 11 months is a story for another day. Which I may or may not get to. Moving on.)

We found a venue for our L.A. fiesta!

(images from their website)

This is Malibu West Beach Club. It's exactly what we need -- a great big room, in a gorgeous location, for an affordable price. They even want you to BYO vendors, which means we can make full use of our friends' offers to help us with stuff like drinks & food.

It already has a dance floor, and the cost of the rental includes tables & chairs and the clean-up fee. It has a great food-prep kitchen, complete with wet bar. They also have big tables for things like a buffet, cake and favors.

The best part: weekday rentals are discounted at 50% of the regular rate. Everything from pricing to available dates are easily found on their website. (Side note: why the hell are most places so damn coy about those things?!?) They don't consider Friday to be a "weekday" -- grammatically amusing, even as it's fiscally understandable. My favorite quote from our meeting with their event coordinator: "Monday is the new Friday." Um, okay. And Tuesday is the new October. Whatever -- we love it and we can afford it. Done.

Now there's just the simple matter of squaring the whole "small S.F. ceremony followed by big, informal L.A. party" thing with the nay-sayers. Normally, I wouldn't consider their opinions worthy of a vote. Except that the loudest member of said camp is Mr. UB. (Yes, exactly -- oh dear.)

To be fair, the exactly 5 people who don't live an easy car drive from one city or the other are all his family & friends. (Well, I really hope that my friend Carla will be coming from Italy, but I'm waiting to sort all of this crap out before I talk logistics with her. Otherwise she might buy a plane ticket for the wrong date/city.) I came up with the extraordinarily novel idea that he should, rather than just fretting silently/arguing with me ... you know, call and ask them. (I know. I'm a rare sort of genius. It's my cross to bear.)

His buddy in Florida promptly responded, "Dude, it's your wedding -- of course I'll be there." Of course, a) he's in the wedding, which necessitates the S.F. part, and b) he's "an enthusiastic heterosexual" who knows that many of my S Girls will be at the L.A. party. But who am I to question the man's motives? I'm just thrilled to hear that it's not a problem. One down.

His friends from New York are also in the wedding -- both of them. Groomsman (him) and Officiant (her). We need them, to say the least. Fortunately, they can make our new date in S.F. (phew!), and are going to try to combine our L.A. party with an already-planned trip to see her parents in Santa Barbara. Perfect! (They'll actually be closer to the north end of Malibu, coming from S.B., than I will, living east of Hollywood.) So that's three.

Which must've been enough to tip the scales. On our way to a game show run-through today (we pretended to play the game as part of the pitch to the network) I mentioned that we need to put money down this week to keep our date for the Palace. He asked me if I really, really wanted to get married there. I said yes, and he said okay. I love him.

And in hindsight, it's probably good that I asked him before the run-through. Because as part of the game, I had to feed him a chocolate-covered onion. While he was blindfolded, and couldn't see it coming.

It's a good thing I travel with Altoids.

music, maestro

I mentioned our "wedding band" in my Playlist from Hell post a few days ago, but I didn't say much about them. It turns out they have a website ... well, a MySpace page, actually (and did you know that MySpace started as a networking site specialized to bands, before it became a way to get famous by being a giant whore?) so I can tell you more about them.

Meet Sensei John Kreese & the Cobra Kai Dojo:
Perhaps you can see why I put "wedding band" in quotes. Russ, aka the Guy in the Red Bandana (and yes, you can call him Sensei) is one of our groomsmen. We went to see his band play a gig recently, and it was beyond fantastic. (How fantastic? We drove to f**king Fullerton.) In the midst of dancing like very silly white people, recently arrived from 1984, Mr. UB blurted out "Will you guys play at our wedding?"

Now, lest you think he lacks manners, I need you to understand that my fiance does not normally ask his friends to perform their professional services at his random bequest. But he was in a rare state of Sustained Bon Jovi Exposure, and it went to his head. Lucky for us, they said yes!

They wear ghees. They play covers (from Zepplin through the John Hughes movie soundtrack era). They're loud & funny & better musicians than their gimmick would indicate. (In fact, they're all music conservatory graduate students.) They're unbelievably fun. And I can't wait to dance all night at my wedding.


** If you have no idea who Sensei John Kreese is, click here. Or here. And stop reminding me that I was born before you.

we went shopping ...

We went shopping today for our wedding bands. It was a spur of the moment, "I'm 2 minutes from your apartment getting my windshield repaired (stoopid truck) and I know your job interview isn't until 2:00" kind of thing.

I knew that he had the Ghost of Turban Man -- almost a full ounce of gold. I had Stuff From Mom -- a ring & earrings that my dad gave me when I was a kid (they'd lived in her jewelry box, just waiting for me to need them) and the remnants of Mom's wedding ring from my dad. Which apparently has donated all but one of its diamonds to other causes over the years. Whatev's. We had gold and we had a stone. We were off to the jewelers.

Mr. UB found a lovely little shop just blocks from his home. They made my engagement ring, so I liked them already. And they're going to take all of our materiél, which should total between 1/3 to 1/2 of the cost of the wedding bands we picked out.

This is weird. And not just because the Jeweler Lady got all teary-eyed about "Gran Torino" when we were talking about movies. But because we keep taking all of these little steps that drive the reality of "We're Getting Married" home for each of us. For him, it was while on the drive home from the venue we found in Malibu. For me, it was handing over the teensy sapphires my dad got me as a kid + the remnants of my parents' wedding ring, for a Much Higher Purpose.

"There are more things in heaven & earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

... or something like that.

(Image on Flickr here.)

what about Bob?

One of the neighbor kids drew a picture of Bob on the steps to my apartment.
You know ... B.O.B. from Monsters vs. Aliens? One eye? Blue? Yeah, that Bob.

I'm surprised, because I don't usually get nice surprises involving the neighbor kids. I'm more accustomed to hearing things like, "Hey, Jess. That kid's standing on your car." (Yes, really. I've started waxing it with olive oil -- it's a Beetle.) But I really liked that movie, and I especially liked Bob.

Of course, now I have to step over the drawing when I come up the stairs. I'd feel rude, stepping on Bob.