Meet Virginia
September 11th, 2006
I woke up to carrot shit, and hell if that isn’t a way to jump-start the day. I’d given Sunny half a carrot last night while making spaghetti sauce, and promptly forgot that it would, um, fly through her system, so when she cried at 5 a.m., I ignored her, thinking she was being dramatic, and Donna, her weekend caretaker at the doggie spa, had let her take advantage by catering to her neverending whining and crying whims. When I opened her crate at 7 a.m., an explosion of stencherous carrot filled the house, and I had to wade through half-digested carrot shit all the way to the kitchen. Screw carrots.
Other than in that sauce (which I have eaten for four straight meals), I no longer have any use for carrots. Or carrot shit. And please, don’t remind me that I am a piece of carroted shit myself, for I am a mother who lets her puppy wallow in carrot poop because she thinks her dog is capable of being dramatic. She should just go live with Donna. Donna probably would have heard her pleas, let her poop, and then served her another plate of freshly steamed kosher chicken because Sunny is a “Jewish pug princess from Boston!” (Donna was very excited that we were from Boston. And yes, she actually served Sunny kosher chicken all damn weekend.)
Speaking of, when I dropped her off, I ended up getting chased into my car by a giant pit bull with a huge set of balls, and what the hell, dude? I’m terrified of dog testicles. I hate the macho attitude they usually represent, and I hate the alarming number of assholes who refuse to neuter their pets. But mostly I’m just afraid of the way they dangle like a pair of plump, overripe plums. There is no reason for dog balls, and I’d rather if everyone out there could just have their damn dogs neutered so that I didn’t have to look at damn testicles. Please.
We went to Boston for the weekend for all of 36 glorious hours, and hell yes, it was fabulously gorgeous. And the wedding was bar-none the best wedding I’ve ever been to, and that’s saying a lot, given that I generally hate weddings. And brides. I’m not a fan of any and all things bridal, but all of this stems from the fact that I hated being a bride, so don’t hate me if you are soon to be, or ever were a bride. I’m sure you were/are lovely, and I would moon over you because I am a sucker, and I like you. And B. was the most stunning, gorgeous bride I’ve ever seen and I cried when I saw her about nine times because again: holy shit, she was gorgeous, as she always is.
So yes, I hate weddings, but I loved this one. My hatred stems from the fact that my engagement was a miserable mishmash of stressors and fights that involved screaming and food hurling – food fights, if you will. On more than one occasion, there was the wild and angry tossing of chicken fingers and lo mein and when we moved out of our apartment, there was a Chinese food stain on the wall that we couldn’t cover. No amount of scrubbing, painting, and by Jesus, not even that painfully mundane and ineffectual Magic Eraser, could remove the wall of duck sauce borne out of a screaming match that had something to do with whether or not we should bow to the pressure to have ice sculptures with the hors d’oeuvres. And dear God, if you’re wondering the answer, we didn’t. Or did we? I don’t remember, nor do I really care. The most important thing is that I drew first blood with kung pao. Remember that instead.
I think weddings are designed for women who like being the center of attention and all that, and despite the fact that I blog, which is strangely exhibitionist, you may or may not be surprised to learn that I would rather die than be the center of *anything* in real life. The only way to survive a wedding as an introvert is to down more Bloody Marys than you can squeeze into your gullet without breaking the seams of your dress, and did I ever. This is also the sad reason why I do not remember really, um anything from my wedding, and I’m actually embarrassed at the number of photos that depict me drunkenly hugging and kissing random people who were the dates of people I invited whom I actually had never met before. Oh, and there are lots of nice photos of me kicking back at the bar with my feet up while smoking cigarettes. I’m sure my parents are so proud.
But I digress, and the point is, B and M’s wedding was flat-out fabulous and would have been even better if we didn’t have to leave at 9 p.m. to get up at 3:30 a.m. for a 6 a.m. flight home. And wouldn’t it be great to have pictures of this wonderful wedding?
Yes, yes it would. Except I left my damn camera in the car, because I’d forgotten to pack my evening bag, and thus, had to bring my big bag for emergency purposes only, and then I left the bag in the car, because a giant canvas tote didn’t exactly flow with my outfit. And after a few Bellinis, does anyone really care where the camera is? The answer is no.
Here is the only photo I took, en route to the wedding.
If this isn’t one for the ages, I don’t know what is.
*Train. Around the time this song came out, the bride in question and I had a very deep drunken discussion about this song, and for a few weeks following, she left me me no fewer than four drunken messages on my voice mail singing that song in its entirety. I’d give anything if I still had them.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
15 Comments Add your own
1. carol | September 12th, 2006 at 4:38 am
Why don’t I get to travel to amazing weddings? Glad you had had fun, but really just thinking about me and how sorry I feel for myself!
Just sitting here in the dark desert land waiting to win the lottery so I can fly somewhere!
2. Yez | September 12th, 2006 at 5:50 am
Sammy Just Says No to carrots :> I won’t say beagles are smarter than JAPs (Jewish American Pugs) because Sunny is just a baby and doesn’t know better than to eat Useless Orange Food. I don’t know why I even caved to the vet’s suggestion of carots as “treats” – I knew Sammy would just give me Betrayal Eyes, and that’s exactly what happened. The cats batted it around for a while until someone scored a goal (carrot under fridge).
I avoid camera-in-car syndrome by wearing the camera as a second Perpetual Necklace… but Jef fears for its lens (which has a kamikaze cap), so he bought me a bag for it. (Now I leave the house with the camera all snugged in its bag… and hang the camera around my neck as soon as I’m out of sight.)
I’m with you on the dawg jewels.
3. Lawyerish | September 12th, 2006 at 5:55 am
That photo is sweet. You crack me up.
There’s so much going on in this post that I don’t know where to focus my comment. Dog balls! Kung pao! Poop! You rule.
4. Aly | September 12th, 2006 at 6:03 am
i hear you on the weddings. i spent mine pretending i wasn’t ACTUALLY getting married la la la just here for fun la la la (which is surprisingly difficult when you’re saying your vows). when that didn’t work, i downed champagne and avoided my mother like the plague.
that ALSO equals great wedding pictures that i couldn’t begin to explain– they could have been of another wedding as far as i was concerned. and long lectures (to this day) about how a bride should never be photographed with a beer bottle. because that really matters now.
love this pic– at least you can explain it?!– and the feelings on carrots and dog testicles…
5. Christine | September 12th, 2006 at 6:12 am
I kind of wish that I lived with Donna. Can I be the nice sort-of-Catholic girl from New Jersey? I can do kosher. So long as I get latkes and kugel.
Also, the food fights…we have those in moments of stress as well. Just a waste of food.
And on the dog balls, oh the hilarity. However have you heard of neuticles? I saw it on Penn and Teller’s “Bullshit,” on crazy animal owners, this guy loved his boxer so much, that he didn’t want to put him through the trauma of being ball-less post the big snip and so he created ball implants for him. It’s the way for responsible dog owners to be macho assholes.
6. Heather B. | September 12th, 2006 at 7:14 am
The last wedding I went to was my brother’s. He made sure that my younger brother and I were fully drunk both at the rehearsal dinner and at the wedding. My brother is pretty awesome.
7. -R- | September 12th, 2006 at 7:24 am
I love Chinese food way too much to throw it at anyone.
We are going to a wedding this weekend for the bitchiest bitch ever (H’s cousin). I am hoping she goes bridezilla in front of everyone.
8. Claire | September 12th, 2006 at 8:06 am
hooray for poop in a crate. there is nothing finer, nothing more fun, than poop in a crate. i’ve been there.
i can totally agree with you and your feelings about weddings. the total focus being on the bride and all that seems like such a nightmare, that it makes me wonder if i don’t just want to go to vegas and have elvis take care of it for me because i don’t think i could deal with it. unless i was remarkably drunk, in which case our wedding album will be mahvelous.
oh, and dogs are more than capable of being dramatic. i would have done the same thing.
9. Jamie | September 12th, 2006 at 8:37 am
Oh, Sunny. Doc feels your pain and wants to give you a big, slobbery canine french kiss. He’s been there, done that. Nothing like a poop blowout to jumpstart my OCD tendencies.
I think I’ll go wash my hands now.
10. jonniker | September 12th, 2006 at 8:56 am
Carol: But you get to look at mountains! Every day!
Yez: Sunny loves carrots. Loves them. However, a giant half-carrot was too much for her, and never again.
Ish: Kung pao! In writing about this, I’m now craving Chinese food.
Aly: I was the same way and so was Adam. Adam was welcoming people and was all, “I wonder who’s getting married? So fun!” And then it hit him that it was him getting married. And hell yes to the beer bottles. Heinekens are in my hands.
Christine: NEUTICALS. OH MY GOD. I just spent an ungodly amount of time on that site. OH MY GOD.
Heather: Was he drunk too?
R: She may go Bridezilla. And what fun that will be!
Claire: I am of two minds when it comes to weddings. I hated mine, but I’m glad I had it, you know? Despite the Heineken photos, it was a good memory for others, if not me (which: no).
Jamie: I’m sure Sunny appreciates the sympathy. I apologized to her all the livelong day. I felt so bad. She screamed, I slept. Oh God.
11. Kathryn | September 12th, 2006 at 11:06 am
Kung Pao…mmmmnnnnnnn. Must have Kung Pao – now!
In total agreement on dog balls. Blech.
12. lightspeed | September 12th, 2006 at 12:27 pm
1. Sunny has longs since forgiven you for the carrot incident. You are her mum and she loves you. Dogs are like that.
I accidentally smashed my tabby’s tail in the door (first time ever!), and although it took a full half hour for her to stop glaring at me and let me comfort her, she throroughly forgave me – and she’s a cat. For a dog, chalk up a full half second for forgiveness.
2. Weddings. Oh boy. For the most part, they have gotten completely out of control. My brother’s bride (now wife) actually printed up Excel spread sheets with a full day’s attendance marked down to 15 & 30 minute blocks, and handed these out to us so that we would know what to do with ourselves. We decided to file the sheet away for future amusement and hit the hotel bar for not-to-be-missed Bloody Mary’s instead. –Which turned out to be a fabulous idea because it numbed us to her sceaming about how my family was trying to take over HER wedding during the reception.
One of my absolute favorite bloggers also recently wrote on the topic of weddings: http://gentlemansc.blogspot.com/2006/07/why-not-toenail-clippers-too.html
I like her approach.
13. jonniker | September 12th, 2006 at 8:16 pm
Kath: Kung pao!
LS: Poor tabby! And oh yes re: weddings, oh yes. And oh my god, that bride. I’d kill her. I think I would.
14. Jen W. | September 13th, 2006 at 10:48 am
I shall never eat plums again.
15. Jaidnoire | December 19th, 2007 at 10:06 am
Over a year late, still…but:
“I’m terrified of dog testicles.”
The funniest sentence I’ve read…I think…ever.
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