service with an "eff u!"

I received many text updates from both Mr. UB and his best man Double L during their romp through Tuxedo Land on Sunday. After traipsing all over the city, they settled on a store that has locations across the country -- helpful, since 2 of the grooms-guys live in other states -- and no reflective fabrics were involved. All seemed well. I just needed to swing by the store to look at the ties they'd picked, to make sure the colors were going to work.

Foolish, foolish me ... thinking it was going to be easy. That I'd fretted over not being there for no reason. It turns out I had plenty of reason to worry ... I was just worried about the wrong people.

I knew something was amiss from the beginning. Salesgirl asked me for his last name. Then for our wedding date. Then for his home phone number. Nope -- nothing. No record of their having been in the building for 90 minutes just 48 hours ago. Oh, joy.

(Whipping out cell phone) Hey, babe. They can't find your information. I'm sure it's here, and boy am I enjoying watching her try to act like nothing's wrong.

(to Salesgirl) He says E* helped them.

(watching Salesgirl walk into the back & pick up the store phone) Oh dear.

Have you ever known from the very first second you heard someone's voice that you were dealing with a complete idiot? Because when Salesgirl handed me the store phone, so that I could talk to E* myself, the voice I heard belonged on a gum-chomping teenager behind the counter at Hot Topic. And I don't think I'm being unjustly harsh, based on the ensuing conversation.

Yes, they had been in the store. They had tried on lots of options. She didn't write any of it down. They hadn't officially registered with the store. Oh wait, yes they had ... we found the form he filled out somewhere random -- not filed, and not with its information entered into the computer. They hadn't been measured for sizes. Oh wait, yes they had ... those were written somewhere else, on pieces of paper not attached to his main card. There were no notes about what styles/colors they wanted anywhere on any of the various pieces of paper. But E* remembered what he liked. Oh wait, no she didn't ... because what she told Salesgirl to show me was the designer he'd said didn't fit him well. And there was a vest, which I knew he'd decided against. And she brought out 2 different shades of green ties, not 1 green & 1 blue, which is the only thing I was supposed to drop by and register my freaking opinion about!!! Ahem.

I wanted to go all 'zilla on Salesgirl, but it wasn't her fault. And I really wanted to sink my talons into E*, but what's the point? Sure, you can yell at stupid people, but it doesn't help.

So I left & went next door to Starbucks, even though their parking lot had a snarky sign about "No Starbucks Parking!" Take that, E*!

(Why do Frappucinos cause such dragon breath? What's in those things?)

"oh waiter ... a side order of crow, please"

Well, it figures. As soon as a girl goes & makes a stand about something, it bites her in the butt. In this case, my dear fiance is the one biting me in the ... wait, that doesn't sound right. Dammit. Allow me to explain:

In one of those role-reversals that never cease to amuse, Mr. UB is now on a strict diet until the wedding. I had nothing to do with it, I swear. Not only do I stand by everything I said in my rant on the subject as applicable to both genders ... but he gets to wear a suit at the wedding. Or a tux -- we haven't gotten to the details of that part yet. But either way: a freakin' suit. There is not a single garment in the female fashion world that is as instantly elegant, sexy and forgiving as a suit is for a guy. Seriously, it's not fair.

Nevertheless, he's decided that he feels a little doughy in places, and he's on a diet & workout regimen that smells vaguely of bootcamp, in my opinion. I don't mind -- in fact, one of my favorite things about him is that when something bothers him, he takes action to change it. But if he thinks that I won't be holding him to my "as long as you intend to keep those new habits after the big party" rule, well ... ahem.

Meanwhile, I'm sticking to my current regimen of donuts & milkshakes. Yes, I work out for a living. No, it's not fair. But a) my dress fits, and b) did I mention he gets to wear a suit?!?