Domesticated Lushdom

A lot has happened in the past few days!  I turned 26 years old and spent the entire freakin' weekend celebrating.  I drank too much, didn't eat enough, and managed to catch up on my sleep yesterday by passing out for like 4 hours.  Lush indeed.

We visited Mom for most of the day Saturday.  She indulged me with cake, Popeyes chicken, and new Sims expansion packs.  I have a fantastic mother.  We also tried on each other's engagement rings and my aunt remarked that it was bad luck.  I hadn't heard this superstition before, but mom denounced it by saying, "I don't give a damn--she's my kid."  Again, fantastic mother.

A friend of mine got us VIP service at a local lounge/bar/club/thing for the birthday-eve-night.  When we got there, she joked that she rented the entire bar out for me, considering how empty it was.  Happy birthday to us, though, because the Grey Goose turned us all into happy shiny people.  I even got husband-to-be to dance with me!  It may never happen again, and I'll be damned if I didn't get pix of it.  It was a nice, small celebration with very good friends and very good alcohol.  Great times.

Sunday was my actual birthday, so husband-to-be and I had brunch at Shells & Sauce around the corner from our apartment.  It was so good, and that's not just the mimosa talking.  Crab cakes benedict = crab cakes on toasted brioche with bacon and avocado pico (I skipped the grilled tomatoes).  OH-MY-GOD good.  The hollandaise sauce alone was something I could've bathed in.  Nick had a breakfast carbonara and said it was delicious, but I know in my heart that nothing was as delicious as what I ate.  I'm still reeling from its awesomeness. 

Birthday night was calm and uneventful.  We picked up Taco Bell for dinner, I gave my Sim family's child an imaginary friend named "Peanut", and we watched Inception.  It would have been perfect, had they not forgotten Nick's gordita and had I actually given a crap about the movie.  But whatever--I get in moods sometimes.  Nick liked it...I think.

So the point of all this?  I had a fabulous birthday.  I really did.  I even had a party and I didn't freak out.  Granted, no one sang "Happy Birthday" to me, so that probably had a lot to do with it. 

I went to the post office today to pick up a package they didn't leave me.  Yes, it was more lingerie, but at least it was on sale!  (If any of you are a size 1x or +, go to www.hipsandcurves.com and buy pretty things.  Mind the size charts!)  Anyway, when I went to pull in a spot, this idiot girl busts open the door of her gigantic SUV and makes me wait to fully pull in.  She then smiles and prances away in her workout clothing.  I gagged, bitched, and considered keying her car.  Instead, I lugged my ass in the building and tried to ignore her.  While I'm waiting, she is being helped by a very patient associate as she whines about wanting to exchange stamps.  Wait, what?  You can exchange stamps?  Pardon my French, but they're fucking stamps.

Because she "already used them on the 'Save the Dates',"...

...so what?

They let her!  They took back a hundred fucking stamps because this bimbo wanted "prettier" ones.  I immediately texted Nick and told him that I didn't give a good-goddamn what stamps we used on wedding invitations, so long as they got mailed. 

I pity her future husband.  I think mine is thankful that I'm not a bridezilla-raging bimbo who cries over stamps.

I bought another wedding magazine.  I'm hoping that it inspires me to make some fucking decisions.  If not, I apologize for all the cursing and I will be back here soon.

It's Tulip Time!

I LOVE getting flowers.  I'm never home when the Pro-Flowers/FTD box gets shipped to me, so it's always exciting to know I have a gift waiting.  Well, exciting...and it drives me crazy because I can't let anyone else open the box.  I sit and think about those poor little flowers dying a horrible death inside that cardboard coffin.  I am ridiculous.

It is Daphne's firm belief that every box that comes into our household is for her.  Kittens love boxes, and this calico-colored ass is no different, as you can see from the picture above.

As Nick's mom says, "tulips are happy flowers!"  She's right.  Getting these made me smile for at least ten minutes straight.  That's bound to be a record for me.  I love that they started to bloom overnight.  Every night I water them and watch for new blooms.  I'll be sad when they die, but happy that I was even thought of for such a special gift.  In case you're reading this, thanks again.

Today is going to be busy for me, so a lot of posting won't be done.  Nick and I are heading to my mom's to celebrate my birthday.  I'm sure there will be cake involved, but more importantly I get to show off my ring and ask my mom opinions on wedding crap.  She'll be honest with me when most people won't, and I appreciate her for that.  I tried talking about color palettes to Nick last night and I was met with lots of grumbles that mean, "I just don't give a damn."  Well...maybe he gives a little damn...but I can understand if he doesn't.  I have a makeup appointment at around five to give a friend a decent sale, an appointment, and also so that I don't have to do my own birthday makeup.  Tonight we are going to attempt to be sociable and have a birthday celebration at a bar with friends and a bottle of vodka.  Considering the amount of alcohol I imbibed Thursday night, I hope to play the role of "generous hostess" rather than "vomiting drunk".  Either way, I'm sure we'll still have fun.  At least I'm off for the next few days anyway!

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend!

I went to visit Jay yesterday in Fort Collins to keep him company for the day.  He took a few glorious shots of my engagement ring with his awesomely expensive camera + macro-lens.  I did have to giggle because many of the shots (when shown full-size) showcase dead skin flakes, tiny blonde finger hairs, and a dog hair or two that got caught in the setting.  We also had chicken chimichangas at On the Border, I bought Forgetting Sarah Marshall on Blu-ray for under $10, and we danced around the living room with his roommates' dogs (hence the trapped dog hairs).  It was a good day.

Oh, what's that?  Pictures?  Yeah, sorry--here they are:

It is SO beautiful.  Really.  I love, love, love my ring.  Nicholas picked exactly what I had in my head as the "perfect" engagement ring, and thanks to BlueNile.com, he brought it to life.  I think the last one is beautiful because you can really see the sparkle and how the light plays on all the facets up-close.  Later on we'll decide on wedding bands all that mess, but for now, I'm just enjoying this ring all by itself.

Hopefully my entries will become more pic-heavy.  People tend to enjoy having something to look at from time to time.  For example, I have gorgeous red, yellow, red/yellow, and white tulips in my kitchen as a "Welcome to the Family" gift from my future mother-in-law and brother-in-law!  A few are beginning to bloom, so I'm going to try and capture a pic or two of those babies before they die.  They are quite lovely and it was a very thoughtful gift!  <3

"Hey man, nice shot" - Filter

So I've been asked if I'm getting engagement photos done.  My first inclination was to shout, "Hell, no!  What a waste of money!"  But everyone has engagement pics done now.  God damn it.  Really?  Of course they do.  Now I'm not the trendiest person, but am I really going to miss out if I don't follow this trendiest of wedding trends?

I'm beginning to wonder.

Luckily, should Nick and I choose to partake, my best friend is a photographer.  A damn good one, to boot.  I'm just not sure I get the point of taking engagement photos.  I get that bridal portraits and wedding pictures are there so that once I'm old and (God forbid) ugly I can swipe the dust off the album and cry that I can't even remotely walk in heels anymore and Nick's hair will never be that long again.  But really, what's the point of an engagement photo session?  One shot showcasing both my face and his with the ring sparkling obnoxiously sounds reasonable enough.  But an entire session where we're posing in ways that will quite possibly cause him to twist his ankle again, or putting on highly unnatural alien-esque smiles...I don't think I see the point.

No offense to those of you who are naturally happy, smiley people.  If your husband-to-be regularly carries you around effortlessly, or leans through some archway to kiss you (and subsequently tweak his back) when there's over a foot difference in height between the two of you, then kudos to you guys.  If you want an accurate picture of happy Nick and Alyson times, crack open a bottle of Barefoot riesling while I preheat the oven for jalapeno poppers wearing a long black nightgown and Nick kills things on the xbox in his sweatpants.  No panoramic lens needed--our apartment's pretty small.

This is the part where you weigh in on whether or not we should break down and tell Jason he has to take engagement photos of us.  Annnnnd go!

"Hang on to your good days," - Phoenix

With our bathroom ceiling falling down again and our jobs turning us into sloth-like grumbling creatures, the Hoffpauir-Arvites household is not always the happiest of homes.  Some things are only temporary (like the bathroom ceiling), while others will take a little more grace to successfully maneuver out of (like our jobs).  But bless our hearts, we keep trying to ignore the shitty parts and focus in on the shreds of happiness that keep our love woven together.  Oh, yes.  I did get that cheesy on ya.

Everyone keeps saying that the wedding-related details will all fall into place like those proverbial jigsaw pieces, yet my head says, "Alyson, you're smarter than that."  Sorry, kids:  I just don't feel as though I can just "let it all happen".  I have yet to adopt the "c'est la vie" attitude that Coloradans are so fond of (i.e. it is what it is, bro).  I worry.  I yearn.  I freak out.  I'm pretty sure I will continue to do these things surrounding any major life event, so if you all can just bear with me and my neuroses, we'll get along smashingly.

I wish my biggest worry could just be "what color should I dye my hair," versus "who will/won't be horribly offended that they can't go to the wedding...if there is a wedding at all."  I don't necessarily need reassurances, I just wish some things could work themselves out.  Or that I could reap gifts without having to actually have a wedding at all.  But now I'm just being selfish.

I'm glad the ratio of people who would actually pay to show their face at our hypothetical Vegas wedding is much less compared to those who would only show up to a reception in Louisiana anyway.  No Lake Charles wedding for me, though, so don't get your hopes up.  It's NOLA or nothin', baby.

And really, is there anything better than New Orleans-made wedding food?

NEWSFLASH: I'm Engaged!

You guessed it. Nick and I finally did it. He gave me a ring and I cried and the cat tried to ruin everything, as per usual. It is a beautiful ring and when I get around to taking a picture of it with something other than my camera-phone, I will share. I'm in love with him, he's in love with me, but neither one of us is in love with this newly-adopted "wedding planning" phase we're in. The thought of any type of ceremony scares the crap out of me, and all I can think is, "There's GOT to be a better way!"

Of course there is! The flashy part of me wants to go to Vegas and get all dolled up only to be married by some cheesy celebrity-impersonator. The sentimental part of me keeps crying inside that people will be offended if they aren't invited. But really--I can't pay for everyone to fly to Vegas with us. I'm only a lowly little makeup counter girl, pitching skincare to the masses.

So today I'm not going to open a single wedding-related website (other than my own shiny new blog), ask Nick how he feels about color palettes, or bemoan my trickling cash-flow. Today I'm going to go to work and try to remember that this weekend I'm turning 26 and maybe I should think about planning a night out rather than a day that's at least a year away. And if I'm feeling particularly cynical, I may just pull random dates out of my ass when asked the inevitable question, "When are you getting married?!?"