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Posts Tagged ‘Wedding’

The wedding

posted on Monday, December 25th, 2008 under Gushy stuff |

So, I’m not big on posting pictures of myself. Not that I think I’m so important that someone might want to stalk me, but it’s a little weird for me to blog a bunch of random crap and then put a face to it. However, I’m actually quite proud of my wedding and figured I would cleverly post some non-incriminating pictures from the big day. A few of you will be especially enamored with some of these (*ahem* Schneider Doodle, Pamster, RhoJo and Coree). Besides, most of my Xmas gifts involve wedding pictures, so you know. Happy holidays and all that crap.

Without further ado, may I present the highlights (and what some might consider lowlights) of the Mr. T-Sassy wedding (all but one of the following are courtesy of the amazing Clary Pfeiffer)…

Getting ready:

My amazing necklace, handmade by my fabulous sister:

The unity candle – there is ribbon at the top of the tapers that you can’t see – and it almost caused a fire during the ceremony. Ahhh, memories:

My flowers and vow pillow:


My best friend tying me up:

The church – I love this perspective shot:

Finally married!

On to the fun reception details:

Yep, those are Smurfs on top of my cake:

Cheers! This is a good shot of my wedding gift, one of two right hand rings:

This picture is from Ame of Dickey Designs – my waist looks TEENY and I love it:

Our first dance – I ADORE this shot:

Party time! Here are some of my favorite dance shots from the night…and remember, full open bar:


I know this happened more than once, but between the slippers and dress, I don’t know how:


So there you have it. Lots of time-consuming details and mild breakdowns, but a gorgeous day with lots of happy memories to help offset the sad ones.


But if Mr. T ever divorces my ass, I will never, EVER get married again. Ever. Maybe I should start being nicer…


Nah. He knew what he was asking for when he proposed.


Wedding? I may not make it out alive.

posted on Monday, September 2nd, 2008 under General Ramblings |

If karma’s a bitch, apparently so am I. Ah, fuck it. I just hope I make it to my wedding day in one piece with a few less scratches, open wounds and bug bites. Not that I’m not usually a little accident prone, but lately things have gotten out of hand.

Last Tuesday, after playing volleyball and acquiring several new bug bites, I came home and went outside to give my pooch some much-needed attention. I know he’s been love-deprived lately, but things are just so busy! He’s apparently a little bitter because he sucker punched me in my face. He’s got some claws for sure, but he also had insanely strong doggy fingers, so I’m really glad he didn’t rip my eye out of its socket. As I ran inside to inspect the damage, he decided to step on my foot for good measure. Ouch! He did scratch the surface of my eyeball and my face, but that has all healed nicely.

Fast forward to my insanely fun bachelorette partaaaay on Saturday. After a delish dinner at Trailhead Brewery, the gang loaded into a giant school bus (we requested the short bus, but they wouldn’t oblige) and headed to the Grey Fox Pub for some drinks and drag. The first queen comes out into the audience to collect dollar bills. I hold up five from my friends and she leans over for me to put it in the top of her dress. I stuck it in, she grabbed my head, shoved it into her manly bosom and shimmied. Her dress was covered in sequins and now I have five scratches on my upper left cheek. Collateral damage from a drag show? Awesome. It’s already healing, so I’m not too concerned.

Then we decided to take a day long float yesterday. My dumb ass didn’t want to wear tennis shoes in the river and we couldn’t find water shoes, so I hopped in the river to cool off wearing my flip flops. That obviously didn’t work out well – I lost a flip flop and stepped on something sharp, which embedded itself into the bottom of my right foot. I can seem to get it out, it hurts like a motha and I have to walk with a slight limp to compensate for the inflamed area. I’m pretty sure it will heal, but WTF?

I’m just curious what I did to bring about this odd and funny sequence of events. Like I said, regardless if I gimp down the aisle with a face full of drag wounds, I will ultimately be married to my Mr. T. That’s all that really matters, so what the hell? Bring it on, Karma Chameleon. I’ve got the sprinkler loaded and waiting. It’s hammer time.

Rangoon, anyone?

Growing up is uber-lame.

posted on Monday, July 7th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

Instead of celebrating like a proud American and blowing shit up all weekend, I decided to use my time to get stuff accomplished like a responsible adult. In the process, which included lots of whining and even more crying, I concluded that growing up sucks major donkey balls. It all started on Thursday when I had my credit card AND debit card declined at Rally’s for a grand total of $4.50. I freaked out, although I later realized it was their machine as both cards are in good standing. However, it opened the floodgates of money woes and I am still completely depressed about it. This month’s major task is budgeting, which is very grown up, very responsible and very sucky.


Then I worked on wedding stuff. Although parts of the process have been enjoyable, my overall feelings regarding wedding planning are not positive. I’m so incredibly stressed out by centerpieces, flowers, ribbon and lighting that I could just puke. Thank gawd for Mom, Ms. B and Woody or I would have lost my mind this weekend. 115 invites are assembled and awaiting the completion of RSVP cards to be mailed. I thought I had centerpieces figured out, but not so much. I’m confused all over again, and Mom is about to kill me.


I didn’t even SEE fireworks this weekend. I heard a few around my neighborhood, but I didn’t actually see a display or anything. Mr. T made a late dinner on Friday, so we didn’t make it out to the local display, but dinner was amazing, so it mostly evened out. Most years, we go camping and blow a ton of shit up, but due to the money suckage, that wasn’t an option this year.


Then I found out that my stepdad (the good guy) is getting a job offer from a company in Peoria, IL and if he takes it, they are moving. That’s a 2.5 hour drive from my digs, and I’ve never been permanently apart from my parents. I’m not dependant on them for anything but company, and I really value that time we have together, so although I’m glad they will get to have their own life, it’s going to be ridiculously hard to have them that far away.


THEN I found out that my older sister, whom I love and feel very protective of, is applying for a position in North Carolina. She’s not at all confident that she’ll get the transfer, but if she does, I will never see her. I cannot afford to travel, and that’s so far away. I might get out there once a year as a vacation, but to only see my sister once a year? AND to have my parents 2.5 hours away? We are a close family. Since Grandma passed, we’ve clung to each other for support and I feel like that support system is getting ripped away. I know it will be a couple months at least before any of this actually happens, but my heart is breaking just thinking about it. I just lost my Grandma, and now I’m losing everyone else around me, too.


If Mr. T tries to run, I’ll break his fucking kneecaps.


The moral of this story? I think Michael Jackson was on to something with his Peter Pan obsession. Well, minus the whole sleeping with children part. Okay, the whole children part entirely, really. And minus the insane plastic surgery, fake marriages and baby dangling. Okay, scratch the MJ reference. I’m forever a Toys R Us kid…that works a little better. I don’t want to grow up. I want off this crazy train. I want my mommy.


Life is like a ballpit…


I wish this really happened.

My day, summarized in poster form

posted on Monday, June 27th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

I made this just to share with you.


In a nutshell

It’s the small things…

posted on Monday, June 27th, 2008 under Things that piss me off |

…that make me crazy.


Let’s just take a moment to review why I wanted to elope, shall we?

  • We have no money. We are poor. Weddings are expensive. See how that doesn’t work out? I’m no good at math, but even I can figure that one out.
  • I have divorced parents and a whacked out family. Is Mr. T going to tell biodad that J is walking me down the aisle because he’s been an actual FATHER and not just a sperm donor? No, I have to do it. And biodad is the master of that born-again Christian/crazy person guilt trip and every time I talk to him, I end up hating myself for at least three days.
  • I have divorced parents and a whacked out family. Yes, I really want to drive this point home. When Grandma died, that became so much more evident. Biodad never called, stepmonster tried making my grief all about her, my uncle’s white trash/bad mother/drug addict/alcoholic/slightly retarded/completely inconsiderate girlfriend/fiance (god save us all) acted in a way that deserves its own post as soon as I can bear to write about it. Anyway, these are the people that are involved in my wedding. Stepmonster wanted to make a modesty panel for M’s BLACK jr. bridesmaid dress out of a part of the hot pink sash. She thinks hemming it at the kneecap is “too short.” I am getting married in a church! I never wanted to get married in a church! But I did it to appease these people.
  • I am not a planner. I don’t handle stress well. The wrong color and size of acrylic ice threw me into a total meltdown today. That’s not normal. It sucks. I never even wanted to worry about acrylic ice.
  • I wanted to get married on a beach and be on my honeymoon the second I said “I do.” Now I don’t even get to say I do, I have to say I will. And we can’t afford a honeymoon because all the money is going to the wedding I never wanted to have. Ain’t that a bitch.
  • Mr. T doesn’t even dance. I will spend 90% of the reception dancing by myself because he doesn’t dance.
  • Did I mention I have a screwed up family?
  • Grandma died. She died! That’s not a small thing, and I can’t get over how sad I am that I won’t get to hug her on my wedding day.
  • I’m a crier. I am crying right now, I was crying two hours ago, and I’ll probably cry all weekend. That’s what I do when I’m sad/angry/confused/uncomfortable/stressed/overwhelmed/hungry/intoxicated/
    horomonal/happy/alive. I still cry at The Lion King. With everything that’s happened in the last two months, I feel like all I ever do anymore is cry.
  • I have a full time job, a dog and cat – and a fiance that hates cleaning as much as I do. So we have an insanely disgusting house that is cluttered and dirty and stresses me out when I walk in the door.
  • I am incapable of making decisions. I hate my wedding dress. We picked the wrong venues. I probably picked some of the wrong bridesmaids. I know I picked the right groom, but that’s all I know.
  • I hold grudges for a loooooooong time. Always have, always will. Mr. T knows this, but I don’t think he understood what I tried to tell him about not wanting to have a traditional wedding. I know he regrets making me plan this thing now, but with all the deposits, we can’t undo it. And I resent that.


A wedding consists of one big thing (the marriage) and a million small things. And it’s the small things that make me absolutely out of my mind insane.


Slightly less crazy

Warning: gushy lovefest ahead

posted on Monday, June 11th, 2008 under Gushy stuff |

As much as I despise wedding planning (and trust me, it’s a lot), I am begining to grow complacent with the process as I am realizing that all that matters is the end result – I will be married to the love of my life. And holy crap, do I love him (we shall call him Mr. T because that makes me laugh). Not only does Mr. T love my fat ass the way it is, but he puts up with my crazy – and that is A LOT of crazy for one person to tolerate. An example, you say? You want an example of the crazy? Sure! Read on, my friends…

A few weeks ago, I was crabby (I still am, but I was then, too) and upset that I had so much wedding stuff to do and Mr. T didn’t want to participate. So I busted out the “you wanted this big wedding, not me, so why the hell do I have to do all the work” card and a tiff ensued. I needed to leave to go shopping for outfits for our engagement photo session the following week, and he had been really picky about what he wanted to wear and I was irritated. I also had a bunch of other little errands and was just all around bitchy. So the tiff has started and stuff is said back and forth, ultimately concluding in me telling Mr. T that he doesn’t even care about our e-pics (as I am about to get in my car and leave). He starts to say something about how he does care but isn’t going to jump around and yell about it. My response? It’s so obvious. Naturally, I look at him over my car and say, “You don’t get it! I’m a hippo!”

I then slam my door, burst into tears and drive off. I mean, duh. What else would you expect? I know it’s ridiculous. And crazy. But apparently it’s also charming and endearing because Mr. T loves me so. For that, I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me that I don’t understand the concept of someone truly loving me for who I am, but for the first time, this week I finally knew that Mr. T really does. I can see it when he looks at me. Not gushy enough? I can feel it when he holds me. Nauseaus yet? That’s right, I can feel his love in the pot of coffee he brews for my crabass every morning (and no, I don’t take it with cream, you dirty rotten perverts). I’ve known for years that I love Mr. T with all my heart, but it took my crazy ass this long to realize that he really feels the same for me. I am the cookie to his monster and he is the cake to my fat kid.

And that’s a good thing. (Holla back, Martha!)

Me want cookie!

Some fairy-assed garden viking…

posted on Monday, June 5th, 2008 under Things that piss me off |

…raped my landscaping!


When I got up to go to work yesterday, I thought my landscaping out in front of our house looked a little odd. As I was running behind (as usual), I had to make a generally useless mental note to check it later and hustled my butt off to the daily grind. When I got home that night, I saw it clearly – my virginal garden had been deflowered. Pillaged and left for dead was one of my biggest gerbera daisy plants (a hot pink one, nonetheless). My loving fiance quickly replanted it, so here’s hoping the root system wasn’t fucked to the point of infertility…


But seriously…who does that? How is that the least bit satisfying? Don’t mess with my pretties – I will come at you like a spider monkey. I will kill you until you die from it. Okay, that’s a bit extreme, but really – I planted these specific flowers in these specific colors in the hopes that they will continue to bloom into September so I can use them in my wedding. It may not even work out, but who are you, Mr. Garden Viking, to deprive me of my chance that it will? I don’t know who pissed in your lemonade, but I double dog dare you to try that shit again. I will find you. Then I will come to your house and I will cut you.


And if you tell anyone about it, I will come to your house and I will cut you.

Why would a writer hack have a blog?

posted on Monday, June 2nd, 2008 under General Ramblings |

I mean, come on, it only makes sense…so why would I do it? Probably the same reason I permed my hair, wore alternating colors of stacked tube socks over stirrup pants, ran away from home in elementary school and looked down the mumu of a guy named Harley…it all seemed like a good idea at the time. And peer pressure. Probably more of the latter.


So here we are, post one of a colorful blogging career. Why would people want to read about me? Um, have you met me? I’m kind of a BFD (lacking a typeface to indicate pure sarcasm…) But really…my goal in life is to humorously quasi-offend the general population, subsequently entertaining those I know and love…or despise…or whatever I happen to feel that day.


Key things you should know – I’m ass deep in wedding planning (don’t even mention the word elope or risk incurring the wrath of Sass), I love the color pink (obsessed, really), my fiance is probably the only thing in the world I love more than the color pink, I’m highly emotional and really enjoy off-color jokes. I don’t discriminate – I’m an equal opportunity smartass. If you’re offended by things I say, don’t read my blog.


You can keep your snarky comments. I don’t expect people to agree with me or my opinions and I hate it when people don’t understand that overall concept. Everything written here is my opinion. defines “opinion” as:

1. a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty.
2. a personal view, attitude, or appraisal.


Need more disclaimer? Oh, bring it on…


This blog is for entertainment purposes only. Please read all instructions and warnings prior to use. Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead or undead, is purely coincidental (you are getting veeeery sleepy). This blog is not a chinchilla deterrent. In case of fire, remove pants. Do not operate heavy machinery while under the influence of this blog. If an erection last longer than four hours, congratulations – you probably weren’t using that bloodflow for intellectual purposes anyway. It wasn’t me, I wasn’t there, I have no idea to what you are referring. This blog has not been evaluated by the FDA and is not meant to diagnose, treat or cure any medical condition…but you are a crazy bitch and need to lay off the crack. This blog was not created with pregnancy in mind. Please consult your doctor before beginning this or any other blog regimen. Void where prohibited.

Edit: Side effects may include (but are not limited to) heartburn, nausea, a sudden and urgent desire to pee one’s pants, sleepwalking, an unexpected gambling addiction and total loss of faith in humanity. Sorry.