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Mawwiage: what bwings us togetha today.

A few years ago, on another blog, Poof and I wrote about how our friends MC Hammer and Judy Jetson would one day find a way to be together and be in love. Apparently, we’re ESP(N), because on Saturday, they did it.

Mr. and Mrs. theArena!

Mr. and Mrs. theArena!

As with all other weddings I’ve ever been to, or been in, or stalked on facebook later, I’ve come out on the other side of things with a few things:

1. The Hangover.

…which is really okay, because it meant in the great battle of Go Big or Go Home, we did good.

You can't even hardly tell because we're classy.

You can’t even hardly tell how ridiculous we were because we’re classy.

2. Another gem to add to my 27 Dresses collection. 

Poof and I in our Wedding Best.

Poof and I in our Wedding Best.

The short bridesmaid dress was the best thing ever invented for weddings. Similar to when I head out for a random night out on the town, I’m all gonna dance all night.

This is a hell of a lot easier when you can wiggle around a little bit.

SoccerGirl and I strike my favorite pose: the Koala. This was made possible by the knee length b-maid dress.

SoccerGirl and I strike my favorite pose: the Koala.
This was made possible by the knee length b-maid dress.

3. Preparation is the key to success.

Poof and I headed out to Target on a mission a few days before the wedding. We’d learned from prior experiences that you should always be prepared, like the boy scouts say, lest you end up in a situation like this one:

November 2k10 — Poof and Captain’s Wedding

We’d forgotten about making mimosas for the morning of, as we got hair and make up and such done. Therefore, I ended up in a sketchy area of town, in a sketchy party store, dressed up in UGG boots and a guava bridesmaid dress with a flower in my hair.

Man at the counter: …are you in the right place?

Me: Do you have champagne and orange juice?

Man at the counter: …yes.

Me: then this is the right place.

Therefore. Outdoor photos in November in a strapless dress?

Be prepared

Five inch heels and dancing all night?

Be Prepared 2

4. Knowledge is Power.

After theAsian’s wedding a few summers ago, I learned that you should always bring flats to dance in, because you do not want to be the barefoot girl that goes home with black bottomed feet. Either you’re drunk in your sink, washing your feet off at 2 am, or you’re waking up the next morning hating yourself because you have to change your sheets with a hangover. You don’t like fitted sheets? Try them with the hangover on. This marriage was no exception to the new knowledge rule.

Bartender: Didn’t you just get a drink?

Me: I finished it.

Bartender: That fast?

Me: Some spilled.

Bartender: How much of it?

Me: It was an exciting song. I need a lid for my next drink.

Bartender: I can get you a sippy cup.

Me: …

Bartender: …

Me: …

Bartender: I’m totally kidding.

Me: …but could you really?

Bartender: Why not?

I switched to beer after that, because I didn’t want to be the girl on the dance floor with the kiddie cup.

BUT.

You know what was in my wedding present from SoccerGirl?

This was drink 3 of the day. Weddings mean day drinking and love.

This was drink 3 of the day, in my big girl sippy cup. Weddings mean day drinking and love.

Lesson taken from this wedding. Grown up sippy cups mean fun for everyone.

5. What you don’t remember, the camera will.

83 photos from Poof. 91 from me. 15 from my actual camera which I forgot to use after I recruited my groomsman to carry it for me at the reception.

Love, Marriage, Glowsticks.

Love, Marriage, Glowsticks.

Photographic Memory, basically.

MAWWIAGE, guys. MAWWIAGE IS WHAT BWINGS US TOGETHA TODAY. Technically, it brought us together Saturday, but y’know.

All the best, friends.

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When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year…

I need to give a shout to my amazing family of friends. After having an wild weekend with all of them I think they deserve a shout out. You will enjoy my friends as much as I do.

Of course, you know that L.A. and I are friends, actually BFF’s. This blog would be pointless without us being friends. Why is she so amazing to me? Well we are practically the same person in two separate bodies. It’s kind of creepy. Our relationship sometimes walks the line of romantic instead of platonic, but we like it that way. I love her for your huge heart. She never fails to find good in people even when they have wronged her. I truly admire her for that. When you find someone who accepts you for who you are, you don’t let them go.

Aren’t we adorable?

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Next up is Poof. We came into each other’s lives when we exactly needed it. She and I have had our ups and downs, but we always seem to find a way to understand where the other one is coming from. Our college days together could write a best seller. She’s a partier, but knows how to really work. Her work ethic amazes me. We had our own television show in college and she always maded the most impossible projects come together. Even now, she is a doer. She is a full-time mommy and still can put together a fashion blog and manage her successful business of reselling designer named clothing, all at the same time. She is my magical bff.

She accepts me and my angry forehead vein

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Having Hot Chocolate in my life has truly made me more honest to myself. I can’t thank or repay him enough for that.  He is the best gift I could’ve ever received from my ex. I can be completely open with Hot Chocolate. It could be considered creepy or awkward, but our friendship works because of it. He is also there for me when I need to vent or just have someone there to not say a word. The unspoken understanding is what I love most about our friendship. We can be in a car for two hours and not say word to each other, but we know it was the best time together. The reflection he gives me of myself is something that can’t be found in too many friendships.

He  let’s me wear his deodorant when I forget to put mine on too.

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Last, but certainly not least is my Savvy. We recently rekindled our friendship. Smartest thing we could’ve done. She knows my wild and crazy side. We became friends because we worked in a chaotic restaurant together. Our pasts are very similar so we understand each other when the one is freaking out about something. Seeing each other at our lowest points makes it easy to know someone without asking questions.  Randomness is what brings us together. Even when she is being wild and freaking out there is still a softness and kindness about her. Her dry humor makes any moment funnier.

She does what she wants when she wants it.

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My heart is full from my family of friends.

I wanted the cookie, but not the fortune

Recently, my office decided to get Chinese for lunch .

I’ve always found my work lunch hour to be a peaceful time, but that changed by the opening of a fortune cookie one day.

My favorite thing about eating chinese is the fortune cookie… just like anyone. I really don’t pay attention to the fortune. I actually love to eat the cookie. The light sweet taste is so delicious.

On this particular day, I could not ignore the fortune. It was only one word. I have never had a fortune only be one word. This one word was terrifying. Especially to someone who is single.

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It was like someone had whispered it to me, “relationships.” No capitalization, just lowercase and a period. Poor punctuation.

What heck is it suppose mean? Am I suppose to build more relationships? Fix the ones form the past? Should I avoid them at all cost?

What is the real fortune? It’s seems to be more of a warning.

I want to meet the jerk who thought this fortune was worthy to put in a cookie. Do they realize the anxiety that it caused me? Was that their plan all along?

Fortune cookies aren’t suppose to cause questioning.

Needless to say, I will not be eating Chinese or fortune cookies for the time being.

Eating is suppose to be pleasurable. Not terrifying.

Talk quietly, I’m probably listening.

We all know how completely relationship-phobic I am. But honestly, sometimes, I see, you know,  the happy peopleand I miss it.

There are always the good parts and the bad parts to a relationship and I know this — I know that you have to put forth the work to be with someone you love, and that you have to accept the differences, and that every relationship is a partnership.

 

But then.

I know that some relationships are bat-shit crazy.

I’m not normally an aggressively loud person. Which means, if I’m…

…in line behind you at the post office.

…sitting at a table near you at Starbucks.

…lounging at the park and you’re walking by.

That I might happen to overhear you and your significant other. And I might happen to wonder WTF, people. Why are you together?

Overheard:

Man: You can’t be mad at me.

Woman: I told you not to put it there. I told you.

Man: We don’t have to discuss everything.

Woman: This we do.

Man: I’m over this.

Woman: I’m over you.

Man: But it comes out!

At this point, I’m sure they’re about to break up. Obviously, they have terrible communication skills, and he did something that she did not appreciate and to make it worse, he didn’t even try to talk to her about it, which means she was caught by surprise and then it sounds something possibly got stuck.

They’re totally breaking up.

Woman: It won’t! You fucking ruined our coffee table!

Follow me on twitterwhere I post random things like this all the time. Except on Mondays. I just complain on Mondays.

Relationopoly

Today is my parents’ anniversary. The real one, since they have two, but only one of those dates makes them married for another year. It amazes me sometimes, to think of this.

A few years ago, my father and I were driving to choir, and had the following conversation, which is documented for posterity in my memoir completely fictional book.

“Hey Dad.” I slid into the car, relishing the warmth of the car.

“That wasn’t Ryan.” He replied as a greeting.

“Nope, that was Jack.” He had met Jack a few weeks ago when Jack and I had hid out at my house.

“Are you with Jack now?”

“No, Ryan and I are still dating.”

“Are you and Jack dating?” He asked.

“Ryan and I are boyfriend-kind of dating, Dad.”

He laughed. “Whichever way that is. I think you should ditch them both and date the cute tenor.”

Dating?

Not dating?

Relationship dating?

Dating dating?

And then you look at my parents. Marriage. 29 years of marriage, and counting. If you happen to read my good friend Nathan Triple Name over at the Frogly Prince, you’ll notice that we worked together to compare Clue to…sexcapades. We had branched out in our original comment-versation to include other various board games.

Wanna play?

Wanna play?

So, exactly how does this marriage thing link in to Monopoly?

Once, when I was about 9, my sister, my father, and I decided to play a friendly game of Monopoly. It began after dinner, and somewhere around it’s midnight and past your bedtime, we put the game away. However, before doing so, we wrote down exactly what everyone had: properties, houses, money, even what piece they were ( I was the dog). No one actually won. We never actually finished the game.

And that is kind of like relationships nowadays.

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Thus, Nathan Triple Name and I present you: Relationopoly.

The Cheap Streets: 

L.A.: One night stands. Booty calls. Friends with benefits. Rebounds. Those people that come into your life your bed and head out the door. Possibly saved in your phone as “So and so from the bar.” Possibly not saved in your phone at all.

Nathan Triple Name: Good for some cheap thrills but no one in their right mind should be drooling over Baltic. Even if the  upkeep is cheap, hotel optional.

Spending Time Together Avenues: 

L.A.: You’ve gone on a date or two. To a movie. Grabbed dinner together. Happy hours. He’s met some of your friends, you’ve met some of his. You’re affectionately “just hanging out,” as you tell your friends.

Nathan Triple Name: Not your ideal situation, but at least you are on the board. Tempting to buy that house you always wanted.

L.A.: This is where that forlorned look comes into play. You’re staring around the corner wondering what would happen if the two of you headed there. Of course, there is always the option of getting to Free Parking. Where some relationships go to stay.

Commitment Blvd: 

L.A.: You call him your boyfriend. You’ve had serious conversations, both about life and about “your life. Together.” Oh, and most importantly, you changed your Facebook status.

Nathan Triple Name: Sometimes comes with it’s share of water works and B.O. , but you have to take the bad with the good sometimes to keep moving forward. 

And last but not least…

“Go to Jail” 

L.A.: Of course, this rests between these streets. Somewhere between “hanging out” and commitment, is the great question of what, if anything, comes next.

Nathan Triple Name: Where only guys are sticking around trying to roll doubles. “Twins, Basil. Twins.”

The long and winding road home: You’ve moved in together. You’ve caught him looking at engagement rings. You’ve looked at rings together. He’s met your family. He’s proposed. You bought a dog. You had a kid.

Somewhere between my father and mother pen-palling it up and getting married, love and relationships got blurry. Are you dating? Are you together? Are you in limbo? Are you in a relationship? Go directly to jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200.

If Boardwalk and Park Place are love and marriage, what happens if you keep going around the board?

Maybe the whole issue is that damn bloggers like Nathan Triple Name and I are comparing life to board games.

In the meantime, my parents have been married for 29 years now. Did they learn to play the game correctly? Or maybe

they decided to put away the board game, because let’s face it…they won.

I dedicate this post, and all future games of Monopoly, to my parents. Congratulations of 29 years of love and stuff.

Dear Parentals, Love you.

Dear Parentals, Love you.

Also, a big thank to you to Nate for adding some man talk to my blog this week. Two thumbs up to him — go check out his blog at http://thefroglyprince.wordpress.com.