It's Ve-ry Clear...

The local Arthur Miller studio was kind enough to take us in for an Emergency Dance Class. After a mere 45 minutes, we can fox trot with grace. We also learned how to change up the fox trot with turns and promenades, and how to throw in a little triple-step swing. Jim, our instructor, even taught us a basic samba for the bossa nova tunes.

...In time, the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble...

We're such rebels, doing a fox trot for our first dance. Waltz is traditional, you know.

The Hourly Update

Great news! Capital One will not charge me any fees for using my card in Canada; plus, their customer service is super-nice. (Take THAT, evil evil CitiBank)

Here's where we stand:

• daily meditation and tai chi-check
• empty my potted garden, which was filled with squatter weeds because I never had time to plant anything this year and saw no reason to kick the weeds out, but now the condo assoc. is refinishing the balconies so we had to remove everything and I didn't want the weeds in the house-check
• eyebrow waxing appt-check
• find and purchase CD with song "Our Love Is Here to Stay" so that we can practice dancing to it at our emergency Arthur Murray lesson this evening (G. needs help)-check
• spontaneously purchase catchy Damian Marley CD playing in the music store while I was there-check
• eat lunch-check
  
• research whether Damian Marley is related to Bob-check (his youngest son)
• Wedding Hits, Vol. 1 finalized-check
• call Cingular to inquire about fees for using cell phone in Canada-check (extra 79 cents a minute--ouch)
  
• call Capital One-check
• call Brooks to see if I can return make-up I purchased, because I lost some lipstick and then bought a new one yesterday after looking for it for a week, and then, of course, found the original this morning-check
• balance personal budget-check
• balance business budget-check

Left to do:

• deposit check in business account
• return lipstick to Brooks
• wedding seating chart
• clean the condo so that I don't scream upon returning
• purchase candles to light during wedding ceremony (why have a Buddha statue if you don't have votives, I always say)
• prepare tip envelopes
• apply for a licensing exam (no, really)
• place cards

Ack! Thank God I'm not at work today.

I'm Pleased to Announce

That, after much wrangling, the CD is at last complete. The songs flow with perfect transitions; they are ordered to bring out the best in one another. There were some surprises: Prince sounds better next to Earth, Wind, and Fire than next to Jamiroquai; Barry White and Bob Marley sound like long-lost brothers when sitting back-to-back; although "Rio" is perhaps the better song, Bossacucanova's "Onde Anda Meu Amor" sounded better on the album--and, similarly, Jamiroquai's "Alright" beat out the more-famous "Cosmic Girl". As usual, the Chicago tune that was my parents' first dance at their 1974 wedding sounds so awful to me that I thought we mistakenly scored a recording of someone doing poor karoake--but I checked an audio sample on Amazon, and no, it's Chicago. I'll never forget the day last year when, just as I was cringing to the drunken waltz with ill cat vocals that is "Colour My World", my mom excitedly turned up the volume and sighed, "This was our wedding song!" Or the day a few months ago when she asked if the band could play it at our wedding for sentimental reasons. Thankfully, a jazz quartet cannot play Chicago's crazy arrangements without hiring a brass band and tripping on acid. Without further ado, I give you the much-balleyhooed track listing of Wedding Hits, Vol. I:

Colour My World/Chicago
September/Earth Wind & Fire
Let's Groove/Earth Wind & Fire
I Would Die 4 U/Prince
Jammin/Bob Marley
Can't Get Enough of Your Love/Barry White
Alright/Jamiroquai
Canned Heat/Jamiroquai
Telefone/Bossacucanova
Onde Anda Meu Amor/Bossacucanova
Ohia/Abraham Adzenyah and The New Talking Drums
Come Dance With Me/Abraham Adzenyah and The New Talking Drums
That's The Way Of The World/Earth Wind & Fire

There, I've killed more time avoiding the seating chart. Expect many more posts before that sucker's done.

Gar! Converted!

So I'm sitting here at G's desk in our office, wrangling with audio files in an attempt to create a CD to play at the wedding when the band's on break. (Besides which, a jazz quartet won't be able to play necessities such as Earth, Wind, and Fire, the B52s, or Jamiroquai.) One of the music programs won't let me preview the CD or import Barry White; the other won't let me import Earth, Wind, and Fire. Neither program will let me open anything in a new window.

You know what? I've become a Mac person! Just now! I join the fanatical Jobs-worshipping masses. I wash my hands of PCs. You are dead to me.

Addendum: I just called G., who talked me off the ledge. He said, "Why are you copying Barry White from MediaJukebox?"

I said, "Because that's where it IS."

He said, "Why don't you copy it directly from the hard drive?"

I said, "Where IS the hard drive?"

He said, incredulously, "You don't know where the hard drive is?"

I screeched, "I'm used to MACS!"

He said, "You used PCs until a couple years ago."

I screeched, "I'm used to hitting command-K and getting whatever I need! And why can't I open ANYTHING in a new WINDOW?"

He said, "What's command-K?"

I said, victoriously, "See? You couldn't use a Mac!"

He said, "You can open a new window by hitting shift as you click on it. Don't break my computer."

Life Is a Cabaret, Old Chum

Aaaaah, the bachelorette party. We had a rolicking good time drinking and stuffing ones into the besequined shirts of lip-synching drag queens. The atmosphere at the Cabaret was much rowdier than expected, thanks to much drunker bachelorette parties than ours. One intoxicated bride was still to be divorced and didn't know when she could get remarried, but nonetheless saw fit to wear a veil festooned with plastic penises. My party, thankfully, spared me wearing a veil or garter or "G *heart* kStyle" tank top.

Yes, the runway at the center of the dark, noisy room was surrounded by bachelorette parties--at least seven!--seated at round tables on surprisingly comfy chairs. The ladies on stage danced and synched their hearts out, putting on quite a show from under gobs of eyeliner and dramatic false lashes. There was Mizery, large and black, towering over all of us and searing us with her amber eyes. She had a different wig for each of her songs, and her manner ranged from fierce (Beyonce tunes) to regal (Supremes medley). Some of my friends found her a little scary; I could see why. Destiny, the "Asian persuasion", was a post-op transgendered woman. She was so pretty my sister felt imtimidated by her. I adored her and gave her most of my ones. She was sweet, sassy, and danced flawlessly. (I felt less bad about throwing about all these dollar bills provided by my friends when I realized the funds likely all go back into elaaaaborate costumes for the show. Plus, it's better to feed the queens than to make them angry, especially Mizery.) Drinks kept appearing in front of me. Kris was weird, a giant blond round lady looking still too manly in costume, who did her own signing, cleverly altering song lyrics to enhance satirical obscenity. During one of her numbers, she parted paying brides' legs and sang "Show me your pussy/your pussy/your pussy," to a tune that might normally go "Show me the money/the money/the money". I quickly and desperately tried to foist the ones to my sister for this number, but she refused to hide them, less Kris sniff them out. I stuffed the money into the deepest recesses of my pockets and was spared. A special guest drag queen did a well-choreographed Britney Spears medley, which made M. and me nostalgic for college, when we went to see our friend Enrique perform a Britney song in drag at Queer Prom; he'd borrowed my blond wig for the occasion. (That wig ended up in more shows than I was ever in! It was the darling of student theater.) Norelle was hostess and sang a few songs herself, the mother hen of the operation. At one point, Mizery, who'd admired my boobs earlier, pulled a one from my blouse with her teeth. Like me, M. favored Dentiny, who felt M. up before accepting a dollar.

Most wild of all were the other brides, who drunkenly sashayed onto the little stage in such numbers that no room remained for the performers themselves. The poor, lost security guard stood confusedly at the edge of the runway, unsure whether to pull ladies down or just stand there in case of a fight or vomit. At one point, a particularly obnoxious bridesmaid Peed! Onstage! At the end of each song, mother hen Norelle gently reminded all the girls to take their seats before the next number.

But no matter--everyone had a great time. I imagine that the rudely drunk girls have terrible hangovers today, which are the law of karma manifest in a more timely manner than we mortals normally see in our short lives.

PS The most obnoxious bride of all wore a veil, a tiara, a garter as an armband, and a glittery tank top reading "Mikey's Wife". Ew.

Gifties

We've received many thoughtful, lovely, and useful wedding gifts. Recent brides had warned me about the weird presents that would inevitably arrive, but, even as I laughed at their tales of a knife decorated with a naked woman or a serving platter depicting a pregnant bride, I never thought it would happen to me.

A post office slip appeared in our mailbox recently. A gift had arrived from G's grandparents; he went to retrieve it. What we found was slightly odd. A decorative wooden box painted with a giant white flower opened to reveal, beneath purple tissue paper and enfolded within bubble wrap, a small ceramic vase with blue glaze, a small ceramic bird with darker blue glaze, and another random ceramic thing (not sure what it is) with earthy-color glaze. They were very heavy, squat, and earthy--the kind of pottery that people created in adult ed classes in the 60s. Tchotchkes! Looking at the bottoms, I tried to decipher some sort of family sentiment--had one of my new in-laws made these once upon a time?--but G did not recognize the inititals. It would seem that, indeed, G's gradparents had gone doodad shopping for us. Words don't describe how very strange the ceramic bird is. Its giant beak sits open at the top, like a chick wanting to feed; its eyes bulge; it is ringed with clunky ceramic ruffles. I'll try to post a photo sometime.

Also floating in the box was a check, which was, indeed, kind of them, but its apparent afterthoughtness added to the oddness of the gift.

Don't misunderstand! I am grateful for the gift, and the indecipherable thought behind it, which I'm sure is warm; but I remain puzzled and delightedly amused.

Update: Upon further examination, I suspect that the grandparents in question had extra knickknacks sitting on their own shelves, which they decided to pack up and send to us.
Update 2: Trying to find a comparable ceramic bird online to hold you over, I discovered, though the magic of Google Images, that we seem to have a pie bird on our hands. It would seem I should bake the terrifyingly ugly little fellow into a pie to allow steam to escape. This makes more sense now. I suppose.

Gone Gettin' Hitched

The countdown is on: Less than 2 weeks until I float down the aisle. I doubt I'll be blogging much during this time. You all take care and have a great start of summer. Go see Nacho Libre. It's funny and the theater is air-conditioned.

xoxo,
kStyle

More Evil

This morning I brought my car in for its 90,000-mile checkup. I was very nervous all day, because even though my car runs fine and has no identifiable problems, there was the risk that the mechanic would call and say, "Your transmission has about a month left in it before it DIES. Now give us a thousand dollars."

Fortunately that didn't happen. They found nothing wrong with my car at all. I had to pay about $275 for the checkup, but it was worth it for the peace of mind I'll have as I take trips this summer.

So I went and got the car, drove it home to change into shorts (it's hot today), got back in it, turned it on, and proceeded to back out of my parking space. The only problem was that I couldn't steer. It was as if the power steering was just turned off. I put it into drive and it steered fine. Weird, I thought. Musta been one of those things.

Drove back to the office and just for kicks put it in reverse again. Same thing. Couldn't steer. Additional delight: when I went from Reverse to Drive, the seat belt light went on. None of this was happening this morning when I brought the car in.

I called the mechanic and explained the problem. The manager said, "Hmmm, that's odd." I should say it is. Then she said: "When do you want to swing by?"

"Swing by"? I didn't realize I had to be jaunty about it. I told her I would be there in the morning.

I assume whatever they do tomorrow will be free, right? Right?

One good penguin joke deserves another.
This one's for Larry.


A man's driving his car down the highway at 90 MPH. Cop pulls him over. "Sir, you were over the speed limit--" He stops in astonishment, seeing penguins in the back seat.

"Sir, are those penguins in your back seat?"

"Yes, Officer."

"I suggest you take those penguins to the zoo."

The driver sighs in relief. "Thank you for that suggestion! I was just trying to figure out what to do with them."
The officer lets him go with a warning.

Next day, the same officer pulls over the same car speeding down the same highway. The penguins are again in the back seat.

"Sir, I thought I told you to take those penguins to the zoo!"

"I did, Officer, and we had a great time! Today we're going to a ball game."

Friday Questionnaire
Miscellany Edition

1. What is the last thing to have expired in your refrigerator?

2. What weird thing can you not believe they sell in supermarkets these days?

3. What historical event would you most like to know the real truth about?

6.6.06

I can't possibly let today pass without reminding everyone that it's EEEEEVIL!

As such, I think it's fair to hold an Airing of Grievances outside of the holiday for which it was created. I'll start:

• [Expletive] the environment; I *heart* my air conditioner.


• I wish a boulder would crush a certain co-worker.


• Stupid low-paying uninteresting stupid job...

Neglect

To the adoring public of 1.5 readers:

We apologize for the disruption in service. There have been technical difficulties. Wednesday, a knife missed an avocado and sliced a left index finger, making typing difficult since. Thursday, the pupil dilation for a glaucoma test resulted in fainting, as well as not being able to look at a monitor for the rest of the evening.

Miss you all.