The Wedding Gift: A Sneak Peek

Sorry that I haven't blogged in a little bit. I got an e-mail from someone asking if I was "dead in a ditch" - which was actually nicer than the e-mail I got from the person who was upset that I posted that 1960s  "Cheerless Chubbies" article.

According to the lady on the other end of the e-mail, "the overweight and the obese are the last group of people that are apparently 'Ok' to bully, discriminate against, and make fun of." - which means that I shouldn't have giggled at a doctor referring to an overweight kid as a "little fatty". Now that I've been schooled, I've added "the overweight and obese" to a chart I created of The Last Group of People That Are Apparently OK To Bully. Anytime anyone claims to "be the last group", I update my list. In any given day, it could be Muslims, smokers, atheists, Christians, stay-at-home moms, people without children, the mentally ill, lady politicians, skinny people, celebrities, people who say "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy Holidays", liberals, conservatives, the homeless, The Obamas, women with huge strollers, Southerners, high fructose corn syrup lovers, poor white people, poor black people, rich white people, little people, anyone who says the word 'retard', organic farmers, soldiers, and McDonalds patrons .... Boy - there sure are a lot of groups out there that think they're the only ones being treated unfairly by someone! But today, it's only overweight people until somebody tells me otherwise.

So, as you can see, I'm not dead in a ditch. Well, not yet anyway. I've been working, working, working and that's kept me mostly away from the Internets. Part of why I had so much work to do was because I'm about to depart for a very special wedding and needed to finish my projects ahead of time.  

Depart for a wedding? You don't mean ...

OH, YES, A VERY IMPORTANT WEDDING!

Really!?!

The bride will be wearing a fascinator!

WHAT?!? HOW?!! But you're so ...

You guessed it - I'm about to take a royally long plane ride to ....

OH! MY! HOW EXCITING! THAT MUST BE ...

Calgary.

Oh.  (Please click - it will be worth it.)

Save your disappointment and get happy - this trip is to attend and take part as a bloated bridesmaid in MY SISTER'S wedding. Her first! (And I'm told to mention, probably her last.)

In honour of that, I went about finding wedding gifts that they'd like. First, I wrote a cheque, because, frankly, that's the only thing people are really guaranteed to enjoy. Then I found the sort of things that I'd like: vintage magazines from the month they're getting married - just to see how times have changed.

For my future brother-in-law, I gave him a sense of what it was like NOW vs. THEN ... as told by Esquire's April 2011 and April 1961 issues:

It's Matthew McConaughey vs. a polo-playing centaur. Which will take its shirt off first? My money's on McConaughey.

The modern Esquire seems to be much more health and fitness oriented while the Esquire from 50 years before is far more geared toward worldliness, swilling drinks and smoking cigarettes. It's funny how many ads feature a man smoking, even if the product has nothing to do with tobacco:

If you love Mad Men, you really must get your hands on a 1960s Esquire. It is oh-so Don fucking Draper. I didn't flip too heavily through the vintage magazine as it's a present after all, but here's one more snippet from it; a look at the new car prototypes coming out of Italy. There were a few models that did actually make it to consumers - but the one that really caught my eye sadly didn't - the Ghia Selene II:

A car with a bar and television in the backseat. The quantity and the intensity of the fatalities that would occur if that car had ever made it to the road would truly be epic. Epic.

For my sister, I took this theme to an extra level (c'mon - sister!). Here's today's Ladies' Home Journal - a magazine you can be sure that she's probably never read based on those clearly-not-her-demographic cover stories:

And then here's the issue from April 1986, 25 years ago:

I found her the same April magazine from 50 years ago:

And another from 75 years ago:

And finally the Ladies' Home Journal from 100 years ago - the April 1911 copy:

It's Mariska Hargitay vs. the Huxtables vs. Jackie Kennedy vs. an uptight looking woman vs. some seagulls! Which cover interests you more? Me too - totally the seagulls.

The sad news is that two of these magazines decided to take their sweet, sweet time in the post - so I haven't received them yet! Wah! This means I still haven't found out what the women of 1986 want! I do, however, have the 1961 and the 1911 versions - and man, are they fun.

I've actually already shared part of the contents from the 50-year old magazine - that's where the recently mentioned story about overweight children came from. But since my sister is getting married, I figured I'd share a bit of the 1911 magazine, as it deals quite a bit about weddings and married life - and holy eff, have we ever thankfully changed.

I can take the corsets. I can take the gelatin molds (yes, they were even sickeningly into them back then). But I cannot take the snotty, stuffy, judgey morality-policing that seemed to be in such vogue then. I can't help but read these aloud in a voice that rolls the 'r', jumps octaves in a single sentence and has a certain Julia Child-ness to it, if Julia Child was a humourless hosebag. Please feel free to do the same. And, yes, your roommate / spouse / children / dog will think you're crazy.

Ah, yes, we've all read about those horrible tragedies that occurred due to such silly rice and confetti throwing at weddings. How dreadful. And worse - how tactless. Sweet Smurf only knows how discouraged the easily-offended writer of that article would be if she knew my husband and I blasphemously participated in such horse-play as high-fiving each at the altar. Shmaaaaawh.

While I haven't discussed it with her, I do hope my sister plans to have children right away. Because to not do so is not just immoral, it's "vulgar":

Shmaaaaawh.

And while I personally find worth in learning and exploring the "domestic arts" - I'm really not into telling other people how to go about their own marriage and careers. My sentiments are in direct contrast to this high-horsed writer who considers anything that takes away from domestic duties - like stupid things like reading and art - will set you up to have an unhappy marriage:

Shmaaaaawh.


Also, my sister musn't forget that she's basically about to become property. AS LONG AS THE WORLD STANDS:

Shmaaaaawh.


And the grossest part? Those were all written by women. Way to betray your sex, ladies. The magazine is clearly evil, which is confirmed when we learn about The Girls' Club and its chosen insignia:

One member coos over her "diamond swastika pin over which the girls are wild". That's nice - but I have a feeling the girls became less enchanted with at piece of jewelery thirty years later. Fashion can be so fickle!

There's way more ... which I'll share sometime later, but for now, I'll leave you with this last comforting piece of advice - it's always your fault:

Shmaaaaawh.

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And WHY Can't I Look Like This Everyday?

We just got our pro pics in ... Just when I was starting to become a human again the wedding stuff strides back into my life ... sigh. Poor, poor me.

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That's MRS Jen But Never Jenn to you.

Repeating what I've posted elsewhere on the interweb ... but:

Weee!

So, yesterday I became a Mrs. It was AWESOME.

Honestly, I wish I could have a wedding every month. Throwing a party where I could get a mini makeover, control the playlist, ply people with appetizers, desserts and booze and only invite guests that I adore is my version of heaven. I will surely be in wedding withdrawal this month. I just couldn't get enough of the evening and was having such a kick-ass time.

When we finally went to bed around 3am, it was only then that I realized that my feet were killing me - I was THAT high on bridal goodness that I never noticed.

Anyway, I won't bore people with too many details but will give a few highlights:
* My peeps got together in my bridal suite (Suites of 1 King West - awesome hotel) and got our hair and makeup professionally done. After Foxy got her lashes applied, everyone wanted them, so my mom made an emergency falsies run to get some.
* Champagne ride in an old white limo was made hilarious by the radio hits playing inside it. Several Office (NBC) jokes were made when "Give Me the Beat Boys" came on.
* Photo session on my condo rooftop ... totally relaxing and the rain went away just so we could sneak it in. Patrick looks handsome and I am so in love.
* The ceremony was crazy fast. Done in 20 minutes. Went like a blur, but people commented on how nice and personal it was. Our officiant was excellent. Hitched!
* A quick, fun on-the-street photo session with my peeps occured afterward while guests dug into the WORLD'S BEST APPETIZERS. I cannot wait to see the pro pics.
* Reception time! More appetizers! Booze! The place looks awesome and intimate and filled with our little touches that everyone comments on. Decor continues to go along with our theme (to see our "look" go to http://www.patifer.com/ )
* My dad surprises me with a slideshow of my childhood during his speech. Tears.
* In the speech to thank everyone I have a complete public meltdown that causes a domino meltdown among my friends and family. Good tears but crazy.
* Dancing, dancing, dancing. It starts off a bit slowly, but picks up suddenly - the guests get down with their bad selves.
* The open bar goes over VERY well.
* Lots of awesome family moments of gushy admissions of adorations for each other.
* The dance floor remains busy, but now everyone is shoeless. All the songs are hilarious and personal and a few favourite tunes literally have some of our guests (and bride) screaming and laughing uncontrollably (in a good way!).
* My parents dance the whole night. My mom dirty dances with a gay boy while my high school friends do shots with my dad. Life is good.
* We leave people wanting more as we have to shut the party down at 2am. Wish we could have another hour but are thrilled to end on a high note.

Some pics, stolen from various Facebooks (in chronological order):
My décor is organized. The little circular cards are trivia (ie: little nuggets of info about my wedding, families or our parents’ weddings) and totally out-dated wedding advice:



Miss Foxy and I showing off our lashes:


The $50 Wedding Dress is revealed (excuse the dumb face I’m making):


The flowers arrive. We decide to go WITH some beads after all:


Getting our ride on to the photos. The girls (my friend since the age of 5 – Anissa, Foxy, my sister, Melanie) look hawt:


Photos on our rooftop:






My Man of Honour does some paper work with our Officiant:


The stage is set:


On my way with mom and dad:


I’m married. And a little bit happy:


On the street as cars honked like crazy and people shouted "CONGRATULATIONS!!!!" …:



… and while guests are mingling:


Our MCs of Awesomeness:


First dance with my husband!:


Dancing with my dad:


Party, Party, Party:










The Happy Couple:



Loved it.

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Tick Tock, It Don't Stop!

We're a month away from the big day and the nightmares are coming on strong.

None of them have anything to do with our relationship, or even dear, sweet Patrick for that matter. Poor guy, it’s like he doesn’t even exist in my Twilight Zone episodes. At best, he’s a bit actor in them, but never a guest star or even a character with lines. So far, the dreams have been about life-or-death issues like centerpieces, flowers, a distant forgotten aunt that demands an invite and nail polish colours. Yes, it’s these important issues that have literally woken me in night in a cold sweat of panic.

In waking reality, I don't even CARE about this stuff, but my subconscious clearly has a very different list of priorities. I’m slightly tempted to request a meeting with Jacquelyn’s dream-analyzing mother-in-law so that all this can be interpreted to me.

In one nightmare, people arrived at the wedding and were ANGRY that my centerpieces didn’t include real flowers. In my dream, I ended up getting on the streetcar and subway (in my dress) during the reception in a vain attempt to find real flowers and appease the masses. My dress got dirty, and all I had to show for it were some lame daisies and baby’s breath found at a 24-hr convenience store.

In another sleep-depriver, a woman claiming to be my great aunt contacted Patrick’s family to vent about not being invited and this vent made its way to me. Because I had never heard of her, I refused to extend the invite and ended up getting in crazy angry trouble with Patrick’s grandmother, who apparently knew this woman through some weird organization (see: cult). In the end, it turned out that the woman was a total scam artist, as were Patrick’s ENTIRE FAMILY.

These dream have got to stop.

An original Paint drawing by The Bride

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