More miscell.

I can't begin to tell you the unspeakable dread I feel when I am sitting at a wedding and the groomsmen all file in wearing cowboy hats.

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The newest thing for weddings is a chocolate fountain. It's a pretty awesome spectacle and if it's done well, as it was at this wedding, the fountain is surrounded by skewered fruits, marshmallows, etc. that can make you bow in submission to its holiness.

At this particular wedding we noticed a man hovering around the fountain all evening...I'm thinking maybe he's like the Atkins Diet version of a dry alchoholic? No...turns out he was the chocolate bouncer. The sole purpose of his presence was, and I quote "to make sure no one double dipped or put a body part in there."

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I hate to say it....I may by lynched for it in fact. Jason's Deli has the world's best chili.

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I'm in the midst of planning a cruise for DH and I. Not just a cruise, a Disney cruise. The one thing that makes me feel as though I am not quite "out there" is that I still feel a small sense of embarrasment and a need to explain myself whenever I tell people I'm taking a Disney vacation. Now some of those Disney fans are radicals, man. If you think PETA can get a little intense, these folks will draw and quarter your ass for questioning the psychology of a duck and a bear with no pants.

While I kosher to the charm of recreating those childlike memories, and that we all need a little pixie dust, there's a point where you're one step away from your best friend being a chimp named BoBo and owning your own little piece of the Elephant Man.

Alas, however...trips for me are almost as much about the planning. I take to planning a vacation like a WWF fan to a tube top. I think since we decided to book this cruise LAST WEEK, I've logged a good 20 hours on the internet. I suspect that DH ok'd this trip just because he sensed that this high level outbreak of bitchiness and my constant gazing off into the horizon was a jonesing for a planning fix. The truth is, I'm like this with everything, not just trips. If I can't organize or research something at least once every 6 months, spend hours seeking out the minute details of ANYthing (while my laundry piles up and DH is forced to wear underpants inside out), I start to hurt baby, I need it, I need it bad. The day I packed up my wedding planning binder was one of the saddest days of my life. I still occasionally revisit it, and stroke its white plastic cover with warm rememberance. Yes...."getting there is half the fun" can be applied to many things, but I think I've twisted and warped it into something dark and sinister. Do you think this counts as OCD? Which would be typical that I couldn't even make something of a disorder that would be beneficial in someway like freaking out if I don't vacuum twice a day.

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If you haven't heard of it yet, I highly suggest you visit the blog I have listed to the right: Phantom Prof. Brilliant beyond measure from a now former prof of a hoity toity private college in my hometown of Dallas. After scathingly and wittily detailing the "haves" that made up most of the student body, and causing quite an upheaval, she finally outed herself. This was followed by an absolutely coincidental decision by the Administration that her position was obsolete. Your world will be a better place for reading her blog, I promise.