The prodigal poster returns

So, I know I haven't been the best at keeping my "blog more and comment more" resolution, but I have to admit, this whole wedding planning thing is a real ass-kicker! But we now have an official date (after visiting the worst location ever for a wedding reception-- in the worker cafeteria at the BP building), a dress, a caterer, a cake, and possibly a DJ. So it's all coming together quite nicely.

But on top of that, I have been:

• working with the Aurora High School Class of 1997 Reunion Committee to pull together some semblance of a reunion. So let me just inform you right now that if you are a member of the Aurora High School class of 1997 and you read this blog, you will be attending this reunion. There's really no way around it. Jeremy. Thaddeus. I will come to your homes and get you and make you dance. We'll be doing the Macarena. Oh, the joy, the joy of it all!
  


• returning all the e-mails in my inbox. This does not include the seven bazillion e-mails I got in response to my "I'm getting married!" e-mail of 12/26. Those of you who sent one of those e-mails, I greatly appreciate each and every one of you, but I must declare e-mail bankruptcy regarding those messages, lest I be found dead at my computer.
  


• working out with my new arm and ankle weights I got for my birthday, in an attempt to not have big scary flappy underarms on my wedding day. Thus far, I have accomplished only Looking Like a Supreme Idiot, as I tend to talk on the phone while wearing the weights and walking the dog, so I can often be found standing in front of various neighbor's houses, pumping my arms wildly and apparently talking to myself while my dog sniffs around in the garbage.
  


• attempting to overcome my fear of the woman who runs the place where we're getting married, because she totally hates me, and I think it's because my mom mentioned to her that I drank too much at a party I once attended at the same party center, thus securing my reputation, in this woman's mind, as "the girl who will almost certainly get drunk and ruin her own wedding."

And so on.

So, I must apologize, but it seems likely that my posting and commenting will be sporadic, at least until we get past this initial phase of wedding planning. But I am reading everyone's blog, and thinking of funny comments in my head. Which has to be worth something.

If it makes you feel any better, my hair is turning gray at a fantastic rate, which is alarming not only in and of itself, but also because I cannot resist the temptation to rip all the gray ones out, which will only ensure that, while I may have tight toned wedding underarms, I will probably be bald.

Also, please enjoy this picture of myself as a seventh-grader. Please note that yes, that is my dad's shirt I'm wearing. And I'm out in public. And those really were my glasses.

I feel that this display of naked humility should excuse me from all further anger at my not posting very much. Thank you!

I can't stop scanning things, so this might be the bulk of my blog for a couple days. But, I feel that the things I'm scanning are excellent insights into my life. Life this weird modge-podge journal I kept for a few weeks in grad school:

My only good halloween costume

We finally got the scanner I got for Christmas working, and so, as a belated Christmas present to you all, I offer this picture of me as a Killer Bee, circa 1988. What made me a killer bee was that I had a machine gun, sadly not pictured here.

Considering I now have an insatiable urge to scan every flat thing in my house, you can expect to see many more images as compelling as this one in the days and weeks to come.

Hot off the presses!

Had another column in the Dispatch today-- those of you who knew me while I was in Wilmington will recognize the story of The Great Potato Fire, as detailed here. I'm really proud of this one, mainly because I've been dying to tell the story of the GPF since the day it occurred.

I'm going to be writing a few more for them to keep in the hopper, and while I don't want to scavenge from my blog, I might need some suggestions to get the creative juices flowing (that is SUCH a disgusting phrase). Your thoughts?

Sad box

So.

I've been trying to figure out how to tell you about the resolution of my wee box problem for about a week now, and I'm not really coming up with anything. So instead, I'll just tell you in the least grody way possible.

So after the "you're just wiping too hard" incident, I went to my lady parts doctor for a second opinion. His first opinion? "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. He is the stupidest urologist ever. What is his name? Dr. Stupid Urology?"

After this spite-filled (but quite true) rant, we got down to business. One exam later, I finally had the answer to a question that has been burning (yes, pun intended) inside me for almost a year:

Vulvodynia.

I have vulvodynia. Which, apparently, is a fancy term for "depressed lady parts."

Long story short, something in my brain short-circuited after that first bladder infection-- apparently, the only bladder-related issue of this entire ordeal-- and caused my lady parts to go all out of whack, simulating a bladder infection, but not actually being one. They are, in short, depressed.

The best way to treat this problem, apparently, is with extremely old-school anti-depressants from the seventies. Because the new anti-depressants are too weenie and smooth-jazz to snap my lady parts out of their funk.

In addition, I am now required to wear only white cotton underthingies, refrain from using fabric softeners and harsh soaps, and keep horse-back riding to a minimum.

Also, I am expected to blow dry my lady parts with a hair dryer, to avoid the harsh contact that apparently comes from use of a clean fluffy towel.

I'm not doing this part. I don't even blow dry my hair.

So far, things have been going quite well. My lady parts seem to be cheering up quite nicely, and I no longer have to worry about my wee box.

I do, however, have to worry about the fact that I just willingly wrote the word "vulvodynia" on my blog, in reference to myself. A blog that my thirteen-year-old cousin reads.

Sorry, Katie!

Okay, seriously...

...I WILL be back to blog about my wee box problem. I realize that the problem is no longer of any interest to anyone, but believe me, it's super funny, and you'll die when you hear about it. But I have been very, very busy doing the following things:

• Buying my wedding dress (it's the greatest!). I so desperately want to show it to you, but I can't, for fear of The Ben Factor. I also really, really, REALLY was hoping that I'd be able to post at least one picture of me in a shockingly ugly dress, but really, I couldn't find any. Either that, or a lot of them were ugly, but they just looked good on me because I am so hot.

• Going to my first bridal show, which was a terrifying event of terror, even though I did get all the information I will need to actually pull off this wedding. At one point, though, I had a woman's elbow in my ear as I tried to walk past a "spin to win" booth that could net you either 14 nights in Jamaica or 5% off a night with The World's Most Annoying DJ.

• Staying up late at night worrying myself into nausea over my guest list, which isn't even slightly official yet, because my third grade teacher might find out about my pending nuptuals and feel really badly that she wasn't invited. (But sorry, Mrs. Brunswick. You were a bitch, and I never forgot that time you knocked over Leva's desk because she wasn't paying attention to you during math).

and many other wedding related things.

I know I promised not to be a crazed bride-to-be on this blog, but really, we're putting almost all of this behind us by the end of this week-- we're looking at one more site, auditioning photographers and DJs, and even securing Super Awesome Favor ideas. So once we enter that time where it's just list-making and envelope-licking, I will definitely have more time to talk about my wee box.

So, in short, stick with me! It will totally be up this week! Please?

Not to fear...

...the wee box story is coming-- I'm just thinking of the best way to phrase it without being totally gross. Here's a hint for those of you who watch Sex & The City, though-- Charlotte had it.

Vera Wang Terror Dress

I went dress shopping today for the first time, and felt very thin and sassy, which is actually the exact opposite of what I thought would happen. I realize, of course, that my thin-and-sassiness was mostly due to the corset and slip that actually left me dizzy for several minutes after removal, but I do not actually care, because even though I couldn't breathe, I was so. Hot.

Of course, for security reasons, I can't post any pictures of the actual dresses I tried on here-- while I do regularly inform Ben of my every move, including my need to poop, I am trying to keep him in the dark on this one. So if you'd like to see me in any thin and sassy dresses, just let me know and I'll e-mail some pictures over (but please be warned-- my mother did not tell me before she took any of the pictures, so in a fair number of them I look like a slack-jawed yokel).

So instead of posting actual pictures of me, I will instead share with you this picture of a Vera Wang dress model, whom I find very scary and upsetting. There are multi-page spreads of models just like these in every bridal magazine I pick up, and they all give me the heebie-jeebies. Why is she all hunchy like this? Why is she holding a stick? Is she going to attack me? Did she just fight a stag for superiority? Is that why her hair is so messed up, and she appears to be sporting the defeated stag's horns?

The dress I like does not look like this one. But I am so preparing my Big Stick bouquet.

2006: Angel or Demon?

Before I begin my annual year-in-review, I must share with you my make-your-own-South Park lady, as I was challenged to do by my Peruvian Girlfriend. I think she's pretty badass-- check her wicked cape:



Now, for the big review!

Up until about ten days ago, I was getting ready to give 2006 a relatively bad grade, although now for the life of me I can't figure out why. I do have a bias against even numbered years (2002, anyone?), so that might have had a lot to do with it, along with

• the thousands of dollars spent to cure my wee box problem
• the near-burglary of my home
• the continuation of my now two-year non-essay-writing streak
• the lack of visiting with my good friend Alan

But really, on the whole, 2006 was quite rad, offering such highlights as

• getting engaged to the man of my dreams (move over, George Clooney!)
• having three columns published in the Columbus Dispatch
• making not one but two trips to Wilmington
• the pregancy of my best friend Megan and my friends Deidre and Diane, along with Daren's wife Cassie and Ashley's sister-in-law, and probably at least three more people I forgot (I like babies. So sue me.)
• the marriages of my cousin Jennifer and my friends Karin and Dan (along with several others which I unfortunately could not attend)
• my first real vacation with Ben

And, to top it all off, I finally learned the real solution to my wee box problem, which was not, as previously suggested by The Worst Urologist Ever, "wiping too hard." However, I am reluctant to share it with you all, mainly because I happen to know that at least three guys from my high school class read my blog, two of whom I have known since we were little, and I totally think they do not want to know about it. But if they do, I'll totally tell you, because it's really about the single most hilarious thing that could possibly be wrong with you.

So, overall, I have to give 2006 an A+++ (there would be at least two more pluses due to the whole "I got engaged situation, but I felt the wee box had to negate at least one of them).

My resolutions for 2007? I generally don't make them anymore, because I used to be one of those people that would make impossible to reach goals and then bum severely when I did not meet them, but I think this year a few are in order:

1. Lose 10 more pounds, in order to be hot hot skinny bride

2. Immediately regain 10 pounds after wedding by eating nothing but sloppy joes and astronaut ice cream

3. Go to dermatologist to make preventative measures against future returns of the Evil Zit

4. Buy vitamins and actually take them every day, not just when I "feel" iron-deficient

5. Blog more and comment more

6. Write an actual essay

7. Get at least two more columns in the Dispatch, or maybe even the Plain Dealer

8. Kick ass in all life arenas

Happy New Year!

Sorry I've been away for so long-- I've been out of town visiting Ben's family, and then heading to Cincinnati to spend New Years Eve with some friends.

Oh. And GETTING ENGAGED!

(Oh, God. I'm such a girl.)

Ben proposed to me on Christmas, after all the presents were opened-- he reached into the tree and pulled out one more, noticeably ring-box-shaped box, which was addressed "To Ben, from Santa."

"Should I open it?" he said.

Come on, man! Open it!

Which of course he did, and there was a ring in it, and he got down on one knee and proposed and I said yes and then cried my face off and ran around screaming for about half an hour, when I finally calmed down enough for him to point out that he hadn't actually even put the ring on me yet. I called my mom and screamed at her about it for awhile, made a few more calls, and finally passed out around two in the morning.

Here, for my own greedy edification, is a picture of the cry-and-scream-inducing ring:

So, that having been said, I had just about the single greatest Christmas of all time. And as if that weren't enough, I got TiVo, too! You're so jealous. Mostly of the TiVo. I can tell.

Anyway, consider this blog post to be the end of my weeklong blog absence (blogsence?). And I hereby make a solemn vow not to talk about my wedding plans on my blog. Too much. Very much.

Seriously.