What Possessed Me

Wedding Update

1. I still have nothing to wear to my wedding. Quick! Someone cover that girl with a tarp!

2. Sample sizes are really, really small. It's fun trying on wedding gowns when YOUR ENTIRE ASS IS HANGING OUT BECAUSE IT CANNOT BE CONTAINED BY A ZIPPER.

3. My bridesmaids' dresses, however, match the color of the Greek Cathedral's hydrangea blue ceiling, which was completely inadvertent but will look all matchy-matchy when Martha Stewartopoulos covers my wedding in her magazine.

4. Our pre-marital counseling session was conducted by a former monk who spent six months sweating through a hair shirt in the Sinai desert. This is obviously where he developed his skills as a marriage counselor. 

5. In a vain attempt to distract the monk from the fact that I haven't been to church in over nine months and can't remember anything about the Council of Nicea, I wore a glittery jeweled cross and a modest black dress in the style of an ancient hunchback/showgirl from the Old Country. Then I lied during the interview and Fauxhawk revealed that he is a heathen (Protestant).

6. Verne won't stop pissing the shower. This has nothing to do with the wedding, but it never ceases to amaze me.

7. I am on Day 3 of a 90 day program to get in shape and can't move without searing pain ripping through every muscle of my body.

8. The workout video is vaguely reminiscent of a gay porno from the eighties. I keep wondering when someone's going to "accidentally" drop a barbell and end up in a sweaty gay man pile. 

9. I now own barbells. And a yoga mat. And a sweatband.

10. That's a dirty, dirty lie, except for the bit about the sweatband.

Photograph of the beautiful Evelyn Nesbit via Suicide Blonde.

Rx: Things Necessary for Maintaining Health and General Well-Being

Having spent a good deal of time in hospitals lately engaging in peer-to-peer discussions with cardiologists, I think it's fair to say that I am now a trained medical professional. As such, I present you with the following prescription:

 

You need these. All three of them. Eff it, they're $27 bucks a pop. DO IT.

 

This tunic also comes in pink. LUSCIOUS. You need it because it's on sale and will lead you to believe you are about to take a beach vacation in Martinique, even though you are unemployed and eating Top Ramen.

 

Speaking of which, it's time to get the hell outta Dodge. OK, this passport cover is $80, but I'm a sucker for completely frivolous but strangely life-affirming things.

(But just in case you can't make it to St. Barth's with all the French twig people, you can sit on your couch and breathe in the glorious scent of mimosa for $29 on sale.  

Wait - what are these knives doing here? I don't know, but they're awesome and I'm pretty sure they'd increase my sense of well-being.

 

Let us all ignore the fact that this watch is called "Baby-G" and just revel in its greatness.
 

 

Even though I'm fairly sure we are not allowed to shop at Anthropologie anymore because it steals good ideas from indie peeps and then make lots of money off of them, this is on sale for $19.95, meaning that you can still make a political statement by not paying full price. Also, everyone will stop yelling at you for dressing like a bruise all winter.

(Notice the distinct lack shoes. I'm just not letting myself go there, blog babies. No need to fly into the danger zone.)

Lest you think general health and well-being hinges on material goods, take THIS and THAT. And when you recover from the cuteness explosion, you too will long for fluffy white puppy (courtesy of Ashley) and an accessorized Namibian baby (courtesy of Liddy).

Have a lovely weekend, my dears. xoxo

Please be advised

I was trying to explain to someone yesterday why it’s bad to have sex with your husband on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I am lucky to have learned this early in life – there are many of you, I’m sure, who don’t know about this rule and might be inadvertently having sex on the wrong day. I am concerned for you. That’s why I’m telling you this. Also, if you don’t know what “inadvertent sex” is, then I’m sure you didn’t go to a girl’s school either.

But before I get to the rule and the consequences of breaking it, I’d like to tell you about my Greek grandmother. Yia-Yia came from Argos, a small town in the Peloponnese. During her daily promenade, she was spotted by a stranger who was visiting from the United States. That stranger was my grandfather, who was originally from a neighboring town, but had moved to Chicago to seek his fortune. He set eyes on my grandmother and immediately said, “I’m going to marry that girl.” Considering the miserable state of affairs in my grandmother’s household, it didn’t take much to lure her. My grandfather refused her dowry and insisted that she bring nothing from the village but the clothes on her back.

The night before she left, my great-grandmother pulled my yia-yia aside to give her The Talk. Though my mother insists that my great-grandmother was once a beautiful and irresistible woman, all remaining evidence suggests that she looked unnervingly like the lead in “Throw Mama from the Train.” But this didn’t stop her from knowing a thing or two about sex and God.

“Nikolitsa,” she said. “It’s the night before your wedding day. I want to tell you something.”
“What is it, mama?” said Yia-Yia.
“It is very important that you listen to me.”
Yia-Yia nodded. (In my mind, I imagine her filled with the same dread that I also felt in the moments before The Talk).
“When you are married, you will be expected to serve your husband in all ways that a woman should…”
(More nodding.)
“…and on your wedding night, your husband will want to make sexytime and poke you with his tuli.”
(Yia-Yia’s eyes widened with fear.)
“And that is not all. You will have to make the sex like a good wife and not just on your wedding day.”
“No!”
“Yes! And you must remember – it is very important that you remember – never to have the sex on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Your husband will beg, he will plead, but you must be strong and refuse him.”
“But mama, what happens if you have the sex on those days?”
“You will hang by your nipples in hell.”

This piece of wisdom has been passed from generation to generation on the Greek side of my family. I treasure it like a precious heirloom, and fondly remember my own mother telling me this cautionary tale one misty morning over a cup of General Foods International Coffee while snuggled up on a porch swing. Listening to the rule, I wanted to make sure I understood it perfectly.

“So you can have sex on Sunday, the Lord’s day?”
“Yes.”
“You mean God doesn’t mind?”
“No.”
“But mom, what if you aren’t married?” I asked.
“You still hang by your nipples in hell.”

Apparently, there are no loopholes with God. Just extremely long nipples.