I have been on a steady stream of cough syrup, aka sizzurp, since my run-in with Covid to kick off the new year, and I now understand Lil Wayne a “lil” better. As a very vanilla person, anything that is slightly illegal gives me the Bonnie and Clyde buzz.
I feel raunchy and randy just thinking about slurping down my recommended amount of sizzurp. I’m truly living on the edge of my own boundaries.
If you think I’m exaggerating my Vanilla-ness: in September, I was convinced I was going to jail because of my registration lapse. I didn’t sleep for three weeks, wore a suit to the courthouse, had my lawyer friend come with me, and in the end, we ran in the same circle as the judge and I just had to pay $50... But, I did sweat through my suit. I’m just not cut out for the dark side, ya know?
Last week, I told you I didn’t want a bridal shower, so here’s me at a Bridal Brunch with mom, mother-in-law, sister in laws, brother-in-law, and best friend, thrown by my incredible brother (featured in the photo). I’m nothing if not someone who compromises, ha.
We are officially two months away from our wedding date, and I’d like to think that for most of the planning process, I’ve been a Bride-chilla. I’ve adapted this general chillness when it comes to things that are out of my control. I have a very clear vision of how I want the day to look and feel, and I know that to achieve this vision, I can’t control everything. I have to give people freedom and flexibility so that they’re happy, too. I’m not going to force women with different body types to wear the same dress- instead, they each have a Jewel tone and can pick what feels best. I know that my brother doesn’t like renting tuxedos, so I said “get what you feel comfortable in!” I know it’s a big day for the moms, and I love how much they care about how they look. Even when Dan changed the tuxedo colors that we discussed since we got engaged, I only had a 30-minute menty-b. But, after I found the RGB code of the tuxedos he picked and matched it to the dresses each bridesmaid picked, I was over it.
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Here’s the deal: the control freak is present, but there’s only so much I can control. Yes, I match RGB codes to make sure it will photograph well. Yes, I’m making sure there are no white flowers in any bouquets. Yes, I’m making all the signage and menus to match our letterpress, hand-drawn invitations. Yes, I’m sourcing various flower bud vases to match the jewel tones of the bridesmaid dresses. These are all things I can control. My hope is that by letting go of control of how other people feel or look or wear, they’ll show up with the best energy.
I have either been in or photographed weddings where the anxiety of everyone being uncomfortable was overwhelming. I was in one wedding where the bride was dressed, and no one was paying attention to her because a strand of hair wasn’t curled right. I ended up having to take that bride to her first look because her maid of honor (her sister) was too anxious. (Funny enough, this is my estranged cousin’s wedding. They’re estranged because I didn’t answer a text after my aunt died, so they called me a “drug addict” who “always has excuses”. It makes sense now that her wedding was chao, becausesher and her sister are chaos!)
I don’t want that energy on our wedding day. We’ve waited too long for this day to have it overshadowed by other people. I want to feel my best, and I want the people around us to feel their best, too so that we can have the most fun together. It’s only one day- there’s no reason to blow up over it.
Speaking of weddings: Dan survived his Bachelor party and so did our relationship despite my passive-aggressive “hope you’re having fun.” that I sent off at 8:45 a.m. after seeing he was on Facebook, but hadn’t texted me in 14 hours. I’m cute, I know.
They didn’t visit a Gentleman’s Club, as Dan calls it, and while I believe him, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around “Gentleman’s Club.”
Men know how to brand themselves in a good light.
They don’t go to the “Strip Club to see titties”: they go to the “gentleman’s club to see a strip tease.”
They don’t go to get a “haircut”: they go to the Barber Shop to get a “hot shave.”
They don’t go “golfing”: they go to the club to “work out” and then “lounge.”
Men understand that if they appear sophisticated, women will think they’re not like their ex from their early twenties who spent all his bartending money at the Carousel until 4 a.m. (that’s a local strip club, for reference.)
Women, we need to step our pussies up and start working on our rebrand.
It is not enough to have a she-shed in the backyard, ladies. We need to make ourselves important, just like men do.
We’re not going to the mall anymore, we’re going out for an experience.
We’re not getting our nails done anymore, we’re culling our fingers.
We’ll work on it, but you get what I’m saying. It’s time to add sophistication to our everyday life. Let’s make misogyny work for us.
In personal news: I joined Cyclebar and realized that I’ve become a Long Island Stereotype. It hit me Friday night after I chose to work out over going to the bar with Dan. As I was leaving the class, in my platform uggs, with my Stanley cup, to get into my white SUV (which, here is where I differentiate from the stereotype- I drive a Wrangler, not a Range Rover), I looked around at all the other ladies leaving the class and it dawned on me that I’ve assimilated. For ten years, I worked as a bartender or a waiter in Huntington, and now, I’m on the other side… and I kind of live for it. Look, I have a long way to go to financial freedom but it feels good to be comfortable. And, ya know what- as a woman who pays her way in life, I’m fucking proud of how far I’ve come. It’s okay to be proud of ourselves.
What we’re watching/reading:
I’m always in between 2-3 books, and this week is no different. I’m physically reading “Finding Freedom” by Erin French, which is wonderful. I have an audiobook titled “The Burnout” by Sophie Kinsella that isn’t my favorite, but it’s good for work, and I’ve been savoring every sentence of “My Life in France” by Julia Child, also in audiobook format.
Watching wise, of course, I’m all up in Real Housewives of Salt Lake City and Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, which only adds to my basic-ness. I am who I am. I do sort of feel like that emo kid who was really into Fallout Boy before “Dance, Dance” mainstreamed the band when it comes to RHOSLC: not to be a gatekeeper, but so many people slept on the series, and I’m mad you’re all coming out of the woodworks. It’s so camp, so niche, so hilarious, and in such juxtaposition of all the other housewives- I’m hoping the masses don’t ruin it for us. Like, I don’t need an uninformed woke mob to cancel Mary Cosby, ya know? You got Ramona, you got Dorinda: please leave this show alone. We all know these people are problematic, right? But, they make good television and sometimes we just need the escapism. I’m not saying it’s right- I’m saying it’s entertaining.
What I’m not into is that preview for Valley Village, but I’ll save my rant for another day. Only eight more sleeps until Vanderpump returns, and while I know this is the beginning of the end, I’m excited to see how this story arc presents itself.
Thanks for being here for another rendition of Martini Monologues. As a “drug addict” who “always has excuses”, I hate to say that I’m still finding my rhythm, but I am. It’s just carving out time designated to write, but we’re getting there. It’s only 18 days into a new routine, ya know?
I’ll see you later this week for another round.
Cheers.