NaBloPoMo is over.

And that is all I have to say.

And I wanted to let all of you know because you’ve all been so sweet and wishing me well and crossing all your fingers and toes for me. And for reals? That can’t be comfortable.

My mom even sent me an email this afternoon and was all “you should probably let your audience know.” So then I got on a soapbox in the office (read: empty Staples box that didn’t yet contain the contents of someone’s desk) and started to tell everyone that I! WAS! SAFE! And I got?a lot of looks of death and realized my mom meant my blog audience. Because there were three people who were really concerned! I kid. It’s like 12.

So Black Friday was in full effect today. It was the most gut-wrenching, stomach-turning morning I have ever experienced. When I woke up, I was hungry. I haven’t really been hungry since.

My drive in wasn’t too bad, until I turned the final corner and knew that whatever happened today, it was going to suck for everyone, regardless of whether you kept your job or not. And I was absolutely right.

Around 9 AM, the three managers who are part of our department began calling people in one by one. At this point, I was so nervous and unsettled, I thought I was going to puke. And I do not like vomiting. I will myself not to get the stomach flu. And I try to not ever drink enough to make me blow chunks. I’ll drink enough to make it feel like a steamroller ran over my head in the middle of night. But to me? Twenty four hours of misery is so much better than tossing my cookies. One, because I like cookies. And two, well there is no two. I just hate puking. I will never understand bulimics.

I found out my job was safe. But because two of the people in my immediate department were not as lucky, my job will be changing. Everyone’s job will be changing. We’re significantly reducing the workforce. (Hey, ya think I’ve been reading press releases and news stories today?) So wearers of many hats and Jacks of All Trades, these are the people that will thrive in new corporate culture. It’s a good thing I am Jack of All Trades, Master of None. I made them put it on my business card.

All in all, the marketing department lost 5 today. And it was heartbreaking.

On top of this, our cracker jack IT staff have decided to beef up the firewall and block like every damn internet site except the company’s. And apparently Bloglines. But they’re blocking Mapquest. Because I’m sure people sat around just planning road trips, wondering what was the fastest route from Waterloo, Iowa to HELL?and wasting all that ink and toner printing those maps. Way to ruin it for everyone, map people! And don’t you know Google Maps is way better anyway?

So blogs aren’t blocked. Twitter is. Again. It used to be and then I think someone on the IT staff must tweet a lot because a week later, it was back. Yahoo! mail is still OK. And monster.com? Totally accessible. Because let’s totally encourage everyone to look for jobs while you’re PAYING THEM.

But what IS blocked is comments on Blogger blogs. Or any blog where you have to click to another page to comment. I didn’t seem to have a problem with any blogs where the comment form is right there in the post. Why the comments pose more of a threat? Who the hell knows. So, if you see a decrease in comments from me, don’t worry. I’m still reading. And seriously? Does anyone know how to get around firewalls and companies who are all about blocking all the fun? Because you know, we’re not salty enough or anything these days. Take away the ONE thing that helped us get out of bed each day to come into work. Geesh.

So yeah. That was my day. It was mentally and emotionally draining. And odds are there are more of these days around the corner. They aren’t done with the cuts. But I’m safe for now. And I will just keep doing what I have been doing since I started. You know, just being my 17,000 kinds of awesome.

At 3 o’clock this morning, my phone rang. My landline home phone. Which no one besides telemarketers and my family have. Because I only have it to get DSL.

I had just recently gotten up to take some Advil for the toothache from hell (seriously, if a throbbing tooth wakes you up, it’s a bad night), so I wasn’t completely out of it. At first when the ringing started, I looked at my cell phone. (OK, maybe I was out of it.) And finally realized it was my house phone. Then I looked at my cell again. Three AM? Who the hell would be calling? Must be a prank caller.

So I waited to hear the answering machine pick up. And then I waited to hear the inevitable beep when?the prank caller decided to hang up and not leave a message and just be the World’s Biggest Prick for even thinking it was funny.

One second passed, no beep. Two seconds, no beep. Ten seconds, no beep. That’s when I began to panic. Someone was actually leaving me a message at 3 o’clock in the morning. And everyone knows that unless it is a weekend and people are drunk dialing, phone calls pre-dawn are never good.

It’s my brother. And he’s talking and I’m not processing. Because what the hell is going on? Where am I? Is it really 3 AM or did I just dream this? And why do I still have my night guard in? It doesn’t make the talking easy.

I pick up the phone. It’s 3 AM, have I mentioned that? And my brother is in Kansas. On a work trip. But my sister-in-law Kim is not feeling well. She’s having chest pains. She needs to go to the emergency room NOW. And she needs someone to watch the kids. Because she’s by herself. My brother is in Kansas.

So I get dressed. I put in my contacts, take out my night guard, brush my teeth, grab my laptop because I may not be at work today. And I hit the road.

My first thought is that I’m glad the kids are OK. My second, and a lot of subsequent thoughts until I get the fuck over myself, are selfish. That I’m tired. And my tooth hurts. And I haven’t really slept at all this night. And I get whiney.

And then I slap myself. Because Kim? She hasn’t slept AT ALL. And she’s having really bad chest pains. Any time she tries to lie down, it feels like her heart is going to explode through her chest. My problems are so not even in the same universe.

Did you know it is really kind of eerie at 3 AM outside? I mean, I live in the city of Chicago. And there wasn’t one car on the road. It was dead silent.

As I’m driving, I debate about getting coffee. I don’t know how long she’s going to be at the ER, and I’m tired, but I also know the kids don’t get up until 7 so I can catch an hour or so of shut-eye before they get up. Plus, do I really have time to stop to get coffee when Kim needs to go to the EMERGENCY ROOM? Again, selfish. And Dunkin Donuts wasn’t open yet anyway.

As I’m driving past the closed Dunkin, I’m stopped at an intersection. The light is red. I’m turning right. There is NO ONE on the roads. I inch a little over the line and stop, look and make sure I’m able to turn right on red. There are no signs forbidding this. I turn right on red all the time at this intersection.

Well Holy Fancy Moses, they’ve added a red light camera at this intersection. This is a new development. I think. So as I inch over the line, to check the NON-EXISTENT traffic, all of a sudden all these lights are going off. Flashing lights everywhere. Is it fireworks? Are they gun shots? WHAT. THE. HELL?

No. It’s the fucking red light camera. Taking my photo! Because I stopped at a red light. To turn right on red. In which you need to lean a little into the intersection. As to not accidentally drive your ass into oncoming traffic. And forgive me if I wasn’t paying the best attention. It was 3 AM! And my sister-in-law! And chest pains!

To add stupidity to asinine, I got pulled over on the way up there too. Because who the hell drives around the north suburbs of Chicago at 3:30 on a Wednesday morning? Drunk people apparently. Or people just generally up to no good. Because I’m sure that’s what that cop was hoping for. You know he was all “she’s got a headlight out. Maybe she’s got a bag of weed on her passenger seat too. Jackpot!”

No, asshole, turns out I just have a headlight out and I’m too lazy to change it in the DARK during the week because I live in the city and I park on the street and there is no light.

He gave me a warning. Because I claimed to have no clue. “Whaaaaa? I doooooo? Get out!” (Yes, I said “get out” to a cop. It was early. And I’m stupid.) And I didn’t even have to throw out the “my sister-in-law needs to go to the hospital!” card. But Jesus H. Christ, why then? Stupid suburban cops. If they aren’t pulling me over, they’re killing their wives.

I finally got there. Kim had called one of the neighbors and the neighbor’s husband came over because Kim couldn’t wait for me to make the whole hour drive up there. Plus, he goes to work early, so he was up anyway.

I went to sleep, figuring it was going to be a long day and any little cat nap I could sneak in would help me get through the day. After about an hour, I heard the garage door open. She was back. And she was fine.

Diagnosis? Pretty severe panic attack. She had a chest X-Ray and an EKG and everything checked out OK. So she’s fine. Everyone is fine. And my brother is home from Kansas.

See, last time my brother went out of town, Kim had a bad reaction to the antibiotics she was on and had some similar chest pains. But her mom was there at the time. So the kids were taken care of.

Fast forward to last night. She’s not feeling well. Her mind begins to wander. “What if I need to get to the hospital? Who will watch the kids?” So forgive her if she started to panic a little bit. Who wouldn’t?

The thing is, my sister-in-law, she hates the doctor. And she hates asking people to do things. So for them to call me at 3 AM and have me drive 50 miles, it was a big deal.

I’m so thankful it was a panic attack. It could have been something worse. Panic attacks can be fixed. It’s why God invented Xanax.

The poor girl felt SO bad when she got back. Making me get up like that. And driving all that way. For just a little over an hour. She was embarrassed that it was something so minor and she made me go through all of this. And then I shook her because “are you kidding me? This was NOT minor. You were sick. You needed to get thee to an ER. And this is what I’m here for!”

It didn’t even cross my mind to not do it. Sure, I may complain and be a little selfish, but nothing would have stopped me from helping her out. I would do it again in a hot second. Because that is what family is for. And it makes me so happy that I’m the first one they call. That she trusts me enough and doesn’t even think twice about leaving me with her children. Because we all know how much I love those two kids.

So I’m tired. Kim is fine. Everything is fine. And this is what is important. Who cares about a stupid job? This is what matters most to me in my life. This is worth being tired for. Helping people you love is worth the lack of sleep.

The rest is just filler.

And I have avoided talking about this, but my very blah mood today kind of calls for it. It could be because I eat shit all day and don’t exercise and spend too much time on the computer so I don’t get enough sleep, but really? That doesn’t make for a good post. No one wants to read how I sit around like Al Bundy with my hand down my pajama pants all night, watching bad reality TV, reading blogs and petting my cats. Jesus, I just wrote it and punched myself in the face. And I had to pull my hand out of my pants to do it!

So the company I work for, it recently got bought out. This is the largest company I have ever worked for, so it was kind of a big deal. And when I took this job in May, I knew there was some shit going on. At that time, no one knew what it was going to be. Just that there were possibly going to be some changes, possibly not. It definitely wasn’t enough to deter me from taking the job. And in hindsight, I wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Well, with the buy out, changes were inevitable. As is typical with these kinds of situations. What the changes were/are, we still aren’t sure.

Which leads me to this week. About a month ago, we got word that changes were going to be coming. Around the end of November. Which is Friday. The rumor mill is spinning. We have no idea what is going to happen. Some have been told they might have to relocate. It is just a very weird environment at work these days.

I’ve been let go twice. Once in January 2005 from the Niners. And once in April from Slalom. There is a chance that at the ripe young age of 30, I will have been laid off three times. Three times in the last 3 years. It kind of sucks to think about.

I discussed this with Marianne and Hotfessional last month when we went to dinner. Hotfessional is very familiar with what I’m going through. Marianne was shocked I wasn’t more freaked out. So was I, to be quite honest.

A few weeks ago, I snapped at my brother on the phone when discussing all of this. He keeps telling me I’ll be OK. That no one cares about peons like me. True. But then I flipped out on him. Screaming and crying. Because I’m tired of people telling me it will be OK. You DON’T KNOW THAT! And I don’t know it either. And it doesn’t make it easier.

If they want to let me go, they’ve already made up their minds. All I can do is come in and do my job the best way I know how. Because that’s what I get paid to do. And it is entirely in their hands. And freaking out will do nothing but make me lose sleep and get crabby.

But the reason I freaked out on my brother was because while I may be fine, these people constantly telling me this?don’t have to be in my office every day. Sharing the same coffee pot and drinking fountain with the same people who have been told they will most likely no longer be working in Chicago. People with families. People with mortgages. People who might lose their jobs.

It is not fun to go into work. Everything is on hold. We don’t know what is going to happen next week, let alone next year. And it makes for a lot of silence. And stressed-out people. And a lot of freaking out. Because no one wants to lose their job.

So as much as I try and not care because, really, I do not control it. It doesn’t make it easier to come in every day and see people?who are very worried. People who don’t want to move to Podunk, Arkansas. People who are freaking out about the possibility of losing their jobs. People who are worrying about the possiblity of not being able to take care of their families.

And while we joke about eyeing the empty boxes, or moving into a bigger cube, the fact is, it is SCARY. It is a position no one wants to be in. And I really dread going into work this week. Because even if I am lucky enough to keep my job, there are people who won’t. And it is sad. And I don’t wish that on anyone.

So forgive my very meh mood today. I think it is effecting me more than I’d like to admit. Because the dishes aren’t getting done. And apparently I just think the litter box is going to empty itself. But as much as I wouldn’t mind having some time off to see how Drew Carey is really doing on The Price is Right, I know that the last thing I want to do is a job search for what seems to be the 10th time in the last 18 months.

Because that’s more pathetic than the sight of me on my couch mimicking Al Bundy.

Anyway, who wouldn’t like a little phun with photos? (Did you see what I did there?) And! I’m also eager to see what Google Images picks up for random searches. Because it’s krayzee like that.

1. Age at next birthday

2. Place I’d like to travel

3. Favorite place

4. Favorite objects

5. Favorite food

?OR?

6. Favorite animal

7. Favorite colors

8. Town where I was born

9. Town where I live

10. Name of past pet

11. Name of past love

12. Best friend’s nickname

13. My nickname

14. My first name

15. Bad habit I have

16. First job

17. Grandmother’s name

18. College major

OK, this was hard and kind of sucked. Feel free NaBloPoMoFos, but it took forever. I pretty much gave up once I got to the nose picking.

I’m exhausted. If I had a video camera in the car with me filming me on my drive back, it would be some good shit. I left St. Louis about 10:30 this morning. Because the housekeeping ladies at the Ritz were loud. Probably because most of the floor was Seahawks people and they were all at the stadium by this time. But I? Was not. And I needed my beauty rest.

But then because I am a freak, I started thinking they were going to come in and kick me out because well, I didn’t pay for the room and the person who was the guy staying in that room had up and left. And the Ritz is no place for whores. I mean, they don’t even have porn. It’s not how the Ritz dos it.

So I just got up. And left. I drank Saturday night, but not a lot. I actually rallied pretty well. After Rich and I went to dinner, I was done. I just needed to sleep. And then I got a text from a blogger friend who lives down there, so I figured I’d take a little nap and suck it up. Because well, I don’t go to St. Louis a lot and I’m not 50. And going to bed before 9 on a Saturday night is just not acceptable. And that’s not how I dos it.

Rally commenced. We all hung out. Laughed A LOT. The trainer for the Seahawks is one funny dude. And had us all on the verge of pissing our pants from laughing. I couldn’t even begin to tell the story. I don’t think it would tell well. I mean, whenever you start with talking about the owl in the Tootsie Pop commercials and segue into Big Johnson shirts, you just realize it’s one of those “you had to be there” times.

But because I didn’t get enough sleep necessary to drive four-plus hours through a vast wasteland of flat things that all look the SAME, on a cloudy, rainy-then-snowy day, my eyes, they wanted to be closed. And my body, it wanted to be back in bed at the Ritz. Carlton.

So then I resort to just about anything. I try talking to myself, but then my brain doesn’t even think I’m interesting enough to pay attention by STAYING AWAKE, so I tune my own damn self out and the eyes get heavy and SOADES sets in.

After that, I try music. That usually helps. I get some good rap tunes playing, and sing along, and I can usually pep right up. Today, though, not so much. I was like SCREAMING the lyrics. And clapping loud. And dancing. And trying to get the blood flowing. And then again, my brain was embarrassed at my display, and tuned the fuck out. And again with the SOADES.

Then I resort to the phone. I called EVERYONE I could think of that would talk to me. And no one answered. I then started stalking my mom and my sister. Because my brain thinks other people are interesting.

The final straw is screaming. At the top of my lungs. It helps for a second because you’re like freaked out at the volume of your own voice in such a confined space. But then you go back to being tired. After that, I try slapping my cheeks. This is the final straw because OW! It hurts! And somehow turns on the fight or flight reflex or whatever it is and my body shuts down. Because the crying from the pain? It makes me even?more sleepy.

So finally I decided to stop and get out and thought maybe stretching my legs would get me going enough to make the last 100 miles home. But have you driven through Illinois? There is NOTHING in it besides Chicago. Seriously. Springfield is a nice little blip. Better choice in restaurants. And maybe a building BESIDES a farmhouse to look at. But that’s like 90 miles outside St. Louis, so I’m in no need for that stimulation then.

I stopped at some gas station. Which was the same gas station I stopped at on Friday on my way down. (Seriously, you think I’m kidding about the nothingness that is the state of Illinois.) And that stop helped me for about a hot second and then I was back to being lulled to sleep by the pretty, white, fluffy things coming down from the sky.

But by then I was close enough to the City. And because I’m an idiot, I timed my arrival into the city limits right when the Bears game was kicking off. And nothing wakes me up like a shitload of traffic on a Sunday afternoon when I just want to get home.

Even this post?just tired me out. I can’t believe I have to go to work tomorrow. Next year, when I go down to The Lou to visit Rich, I’m taking the following Monday off. Which I should do tomorrow. But we have another sales conference the first week of December and well, I’ve um, not really done much of anything for it. Name badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ name badges.

That’s all?I have. Seriously.

I got in last night about 5:30. I made good time. Ate cheese popcorn. Stained my fingers. Got a piece of a popcorn kernel stuck on my tonsil. No.?I did. And it was annoying. And I can only imagine what people on I-55 thought as the white Sentra flew down the expressway at 78 miles an hour with the crazy brunette driving with her finger in her throat. And she wasn’t even throwing up.

I left that to Rich. Because he started drinking at 1 and was trashed by the time I got there. And he must have added 10 more rum and cokes on top of that, so he doesn’t really remember anything past me getting there and LSU losing.

And then we tried talking football with the stupidest waitress. Who is convinced that Mizzou is number one now only because LSU lost. Keep in mind, the Mizzou/Kansas game hasn’t even taken place yet. And when we asked her about the Big 12 Championship game, she didn’t know and just said “we’re number one. LSU lost. See because, they were number one.”

And then my head exploded all over my French Dip sandwich. And I don’t like grey matter in my Au Jus.

So right now, I’m just recovering. I did finally change my clothes and showered. Rich is at the airport picking up the team. And I was put to work, checking on Mike Holmgren’s amenities in his phat suite. Complete with grand piano. And he gets a lot of booze. It’s good to be a head coach.

Maybe I should take a nap, seeing as the drinking is going to start in less than an hour.

What your glass of rum and coke looks like after you’ve had 12 and you’ve fallen off of your stool.

My Thanksgiving was good. It was a crappy ending, with the stupid Trojans spanking my Sun Devils. Even though the Sparky pitchforking a turkey leg at midfield was really cute. Except replace the turkey with the Sun Devils defense, and then that’s more like how the game was.

I had the best time yesterday with my niece Skyler. We had a dance party down in the basement. To get out of the way in the kitchen, we went downstairs and turned on the radio and the dancing commenced. Skyler loves to dance and it was the highlight of my day just hanging out downstairs with her and jumping around and shaking our heads and drinking wine. Wait, the wine was just me.

And I had a great time playing with my two nephews too. Who are such boys and play so good together. And the best was when they mobbed me and smothered me with kisses.

The food was great. The turkey was awesome and NOT dry. I got my headlight bulb changed. Overall it was just a great day with family and great food! And I think I only got yelled at a few times. Which might be a record.

And now I’m off to drink and drive. Well, not together. First I drive. Then I park. And then the drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.

I figure instead of talking about how stupid turkeys are?and why God was doing them a favor by making them the centerpiece of a holiday meal, that I will list out things I am thankful for this holiday.

• I am thankful for bullets. And the fact that bullets are the lazy man’s cop out on real blog posts.
• I am thankful that I am home for Thanksgiving. I spent a lot of Thanksgivings away from home and it is nice to be with my family. Even if my mom’s turkey is always a little dry. (Keep reading mom. I say nice things.)
• I am thankful for alcohol. (See above re: spending time with family.)
• I am thankful for some of the best friends money can buy, especially those not in Illinois. We don’t get to see each other every weekend any more, but God I miss you. Can’t wait for our hypothetical New Year’s!
• I am thankful for still being close, if not closer, to friends from high school. Because you guys have seen me through it all.
• I am thankful for all of you reading this right now. And for your comments. I don’t think I can ever express how awesome all of this is.
• I am thankful for having a job. For right now. Because that is one more day I have a paycheck to pay the bills.
• I am thankful for nieces and nephews.
• I am thankful for people who wax your hair, specifically your eyebrow hair and bikini line. Because that means I don’t have to do it and fuck it up.
• I am thankful for spandex. And its stretching qualities. And for manufacturers putting spandex in pants. For those of us who gain 30 pounds and refuse to?buy new pants.
• I am thankful for my brother and sister-in-law. For so many things.
• I am thankful for my mom. I lucked out that day when they were handing out Moms to the new babies.
• I am thankful for laptops and wireless internet. Although it leads to inactivity. But at least I keep the Spandex makers in business.
• I am thankful for reality TV. What we did before you, I don’t know. Yes, I’m all for the writers and WANT them to come back because I watch a lot of non-reality shows. But I can’t give up my reality TV. Even when The Bachelor is a huge ass. Good luck with relationships now, douche bag.
• I am thankful for the internet. Because I have met so many cool people in the last year through blogs, etc.
• I am thankful?for MamaPop open threads and MamaPop Talk. Which gets me through the slow days.
• I am thankful for grapes and the genius who decided to ferment them into wine. You are my God.
• I am thankful for holidays with days off. Because I sure was in need of one.

And finally,

• I am thankful NaBloPoMo is almost over.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone! Be safe, happy and full of yummy food!

I never knew what school spirit was until I started college. In high school, we just kind of sucked all around in pretty much every sport. Our football team went to the playoffs one year, I think. But having to march at EVERY. DAMN. HOME GAME, I made it my goal not to wish them well. Because I hated you for having games. And making us perform. Because our fight song was stupid. And we had to play it a lot. We spelled our name. L-A-K-E P-A-R-K, Lake Park, Lake Park, go team go!

Ahem.

So when I got to college we had football games! And basketball games! And we were on TV! And playing teams like Nebraska! And whoo boy, I was like a pig in slop. My freshman year I was an usher at ASU and Arizona Cardinals home games. (Nerd, I know.) But because Sun Devil Stadium hosted Super Bowl XXX that year, if you worked every home game, you got to work the Super Bowl. BONUS! Which I did. And it was awesome! But that is not the point of this post.

But I was very excited to jump into college athletics. And going to games. And the camaraderie. And loving the fact that we had an honest to goodness rivalry. And I could just hate a team just because. And later learned to hate them because what stupid ass goes to school in Tuscon? It’s the armpit of America. Even the people in Pullman, Washington laugh at you.

My sophomore year in 1996 was the clincher. I started working for the media relations department, working as an employee at home sporting events. This was like serving up a plate full of fried dough to a fat person. On top of that, we also went undefeated that year. And went to the Rose Bowl. And were 1:19 away from winning the National Championship. I was in love. With the Sun Devils. Totally head over heels.

My love just grew and grew in my final years of college. My senior year,?I?got ASU’s mascot, Sparky, tattooed on my right ankle. It was less than a week before my brother’s wedding. And still the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done. And something I will never regret. My blood bleeds maroon and gold and I can’t imagine a day I’ll be embarrassed to show off my Sparky tattoo. Except when I’m 80 and it’s wrinkly Sparky. From the saggy skin. And still then? I’ll just be embarrassed that I should have worked out more in my youth to avoid the wrinkly, saggy skin. Or eaten more green vegetables or something.

During this time I started to concoct my perfect wedding. You know, because I was single, never had a boyfriend?and totally NOT dating anyone. So clearly, a perfect time to start thinking about your ideal wedding. If not then, when?

MY wedding was going to have a Sun Devil feel. And then the ideas just started flowing. And by ideas I mean the crazy that lay deep within the recesses of my mind.

It started with simply having maroon and gold as my wedding colors. And then it became the girls wearing maroon dresses with gold sashes. And then it went further. The guys would have Sparky on the ties and vests on their tuxes.

Oh, it gets better. And by better, I mean the bat shit insanity that I’ve drunk from the Crazy Glass.

Let’s discuss my dress. My beautiful wedding dress. It was going to have a lace overlay. Pretty, right? But that overlay would be embroidered with Sparkys all along the bottom. Oh and my beautiful dress? Would hit above the ankle, so tattoo Sparky could be seen. In all his glory.

It goes even further. Sadly.

So the ladies? They won’t be carrying flowers. No. No flowers. They will be carrying those maroon and gold pom pons. Preferably those free ones they hand out at games. Because I’m on a budget, people. The custom made ties and vests, not to mention the custom made dress, that’s going to cost a pretty penny.

And here comes the best part. When I walk down the aisle, they will not be playing that Here Comes the Bride shit. It will be the ASU fight song. And you are all encouraged to sing along. Otherwise, I would be upset. And it’s MY DAY!

Just picture it. A packed church. All the pews filled with my friends, family and biggest fans. (Except, not really. I’m not getting married in a church. Those ceremonies are WAY too long. Unless it is the cute church Matt & Betsey got married in.)

The ASU fight song starts to play. My Sun Devils in attendance start to sing along “Fight Devils?down?the field…” (Don’t worry, the?programs will have the words. You’ll all be able to sing along. Don’t?forget to make the letters A-S-U with your arms at the end. Watch the people with their arms in the air. Follow their lead.)?At this point, after the shock of the fight song has worn off, everyone stands up and turns to the back of the church. The big wooden doors (possibly the same door Martin Luther nailed his shit to) open and there I am. Take it in. The sunlight streaming in behind me. Making a sort of halo effect. On me and my dress. With the DEVILS on it. The entire?church singing about the Devils. And fighting. It’s blasphemy at its best,?people.

You all see the?first image of me in my Sparky dress, pom pons in hand. And then my escort comes in. My dad is dead, so he’s not walking me down the aisle. So everyone waits to see who got the honor of walking me down the aisle on one of the biggest days of my life.

The crowd gasps. It’s not my brother. Is that (gasp) SPARKY?????? Decked out in a maroon and gold tuxedo?

It is. And he walks me down the aisle. We make it to the altar, just as the fight song is finishing. And the choir of attendants is joyfully singing “A-S-U! A-S-U! Give ‘em hell Devils.” (Now you see why the church won’t work.) And after someone revives my very religious grandmother,?the ceremony begins.

So yeah, how pathetic is that? I’m sure there are more details I have purposely omittedforgotten. Don’t worry, Chundley, Julie and Lori will remind me and all of us. Because this shit is priceless. And only serves the purpose to be thrown back in someone’s face in a mocking fashion. Because, seriously? I’m crazy.

Don’t worry. This has ALL changed. I think the only thing I might stick with is maroon and gold as colors. But probably not. I will choose color probably based on season and what dresses I like best for the bridesmaids. Oh and you know, if I EVER EVEN GET ENGAGED.

/bat shit craziness

But at least crazy comes complete with cute.