1. Opening the door to the bathroom to chat to me while I was trying to do a poo (I got stuck in there when the lock broke once so I never lock it anymore). He wasn't chatting to me for the hour before and the hour after, so quite while he felt he needed to chat to me then, I'm not sure.
2. Coming downstairs to "help" me put the shopping away. This "help" involved bringing the bags the whole 1 metre from the sitting room and abandoning them on the kitchen floor. As far as he's concerned, food magically transfers to the fridge from this position. Presumably its the same kitchen fairies that do the washing up and steal his socks.
3. Refusing to give an answer when asked what he wanted for lunch, meaning I had to list every lunch food in the kitchen, despite him having seen what I'd bought at the supermarket.
4. I said I wanted pizza for dinner, then asked if he fancied takeout or frozen pizza he kept saying "pizza!" The conversation went like this "I fancy pizza for dinner. Do you think we should get takeaway or be good and eat the frozen stuff?" "Pizza!" "Yes, pizza. Takeaway or frozen?" "Pizza". "Fine, lets do takeaway. Dominos, Pizza hut or the chippy?" "Pizza".... Repeat ad infinitum until I poked him in the belly button and stomped out of the room, only for him to follow me chanting "pizza" at me. We eventually had frozen because otherwise I would have killed him.
(I should add at this moment in case you get the wrong impression, that I'm marrying a reasonably intelligent 29 year old man, who holds a degree from a reasonably high quality university, not a very slow toddler)..
5. I don't know why I bothered but I asked him about music for the wedding. See the above point for the type of response I got only with some extra singing.
6. He ran down my phone battery playing Angry Birds. He does this constantly and he's broken my feckin phone charger.. Adimittedly I could take it upstairs but I'm lazy.
Ok, he's not killed anyone, but it's the constant drip-drip of annoying things that make me want to send him back to his parents house for good. The worst part is that he knows that I lose my temper when I get frustrated and he finds it hilarious when I have a strop, so he does things deliberately to annoy me. If you want an idea of how annoying it is, imagine living with Peter Griffin at his most childishly petulant and annoying.
Arrrgh. Do I really want to marry this man? Sadly, the answer is still yes, although I still maintain that if I snapped and killed him, no jury in the land would convict me. Why are men so annoying???
Days til the wedding: 142 (if I decide to go through with it!)
Friday 22 April 2011
Wednesday 20 April 2011
It's infectious
It's true. My groom to be has also come down with weight worries. He's a skinny creature who doesn't gain much weight, but his baby brother was teasing him about his paunch. That and my repeated phwoaring over HHH (if he will make me watch WWE I will punish him for it by drooling over the cavemen type wrestlers) seem to have pushed him to start doing situps. Proper situps. Not the pathetic girly crunches I do. Now he's going to get all fit and lose his lovely podgy tummy and girls will chase him and he'll realise he can do much better than the mentalist with the crazy hair that he lives with.
I'm sure at some point he'll come to his senses and shriek "Oh my god, what was I thinking!!!!" and run away very speedily. In my mind it's a bit like cartoon running. He's suspended in mid air with his legs bicycling away and then he jets off. As long as he doesn't do it when I'm walking down the aisle!
On a wedding panic note, I just got porridge in my hair. I had some on my hand and I brushed the hair out of my face. I'm going to have to ban gravy at the wedding meal or get a bib like a toddler, otherwise my dinner will end up all over my pretty dress.
Oh and hello to my first follower!! I feel all special now.
Days to the wedding: 144
Level of madness: Still pretty damn high. Curse you porridge!!
I'm sure at some point he'll come to his senses and shriek "Oh my god, what was I thinking!!!!" and run away very speedily. In my mind it's a bit like cartoon running. He's suspended in mid air with his legs bicycling away and then he jets off. As long as he doesn't do it when I'm walking down the aisle!
On a wedding panic note, I just got porridge in my hair. I had some on my hand and I brushed the hair out of my face. I'm going to have to ban gravy at the wedding meal or get a bib like a toddler, otherwise my dinner will end up all over my pretty dress.
Oh and hello to my first follower!! I feel all special now.
Days to the wedding: 144
Level of madness: Still pretty damn high. Curse you porridge!!
Tuesday 19 April 2011
Wedding wobbly bits
As the days inevitably edge closer and closer to the big day, I start to panic a little bit more and never more so since I fell off the diet wagon into the Easter egg pile.
Let me explain. I was doing the carbohydrate addicts diet which meant I ate protein only for most of the day then had a whole hour at night to eat whatever I wanted. It worked a bit - I lost 8lbs then the weight loss stabilised and the carby food looked more and more tempting and I got sick of bacon (never, ever thought that was possible). The worst part was that it gave me dog breath. Horrible, stinky dog breath that meant future husband refused to kiss me. On the occasions he absolutely had to he'd make a face. So my body was looking better but what's the point when my future husband didn't want to show affection any more? Since I've come off it, I've been celebrating by eating everything. Including all the Easter Eggs and errm some more easter eggs. Shame! Shame! I'm so ashamed. I've even been driven to looking at diet pills before common sense kicks in and tells me that if these things worked everyone would be skinny. Imagine a world where everyone was skinny. Even Santa! I'm not sure I like the idea of a skinny santa.
As my chest is stillfull of gunk, I'm excused from exercise until it's better so i can't even make myself feel better by hitting the treadmill. And I've just booked my dress fittings. Eeeeeek.
They're going to have to roll me down the aisle like a less purple Violet Beauregarde. Well, I did threaten to dress my bridemaids as Oompa Loompas....
Days to the wedding: 145 (to get my bottom into shape).
Level of madness: High (saved from total lunacy by the odd lucid moment).
Let me explain. I was doing the carbohydrate addicts diet which meant I ate protein only for most of the day then had a whole hour at night to eat whatever I wanted. It worked a bit - I lost 8lbs then the weight loss stabilised and the carby food looked more and more tempting and I got sick of bacon (never, ever thought that was possible). The worst part was that it gave me dog breath. Horrible, stinky dog breath that meant future husband refused to kiss me. On the occasions he absolutely had to he'd make a face. So my body was looking better but what's the point when my future husband didn't want to show affection any more? Since I've come off it, I've been celebrating by eating everything. Including all the Easter Eggs and errm some more easter eggs. Shame! Shame! I'm so ashamed. I've even been driven to looking at diet pills before common sense kicks in and tells me that if these things worked everyone would be skinny. Imagine a world where everyone was skinny. Even Santa! I'm not sure I like the idea of a skinny santa.
As my chest is stillfull of gunk, I'm excused from exercise until it's better so i can't even make myself feel better by hitting the treadmill. And I've just booked my dress fittings. Eeeeeek.
They're going to have to roll me down the aisle like a less purple Violet Beauregarde. Well, I did threaten to dress my bridemaids as Oompa Loompas....
Days to the wedding: 145 (to get my bottom into shape).
Level of madness: High (saved from total lunacy by the odd lucid moment).
Friday 15 April 2011
Why my budget wedding will be better than the Royals
Ok, I'll admit that I was a bit piqued when Kate and Wills announced their engagement and intention to marry in the same year as my wedding. I was irritated that despite having been engaged first, and already planning our wedding, they'd be able to have one on a bigger scale, and more quickly. Then I was incensed when the press started on about their wedding being responsible for every other wedding that came after it. Errm no. It's just that we less rich and privileged couples need time to save for the wedding and even then we have to make concessions.
And these concessions hurt. I didn't expect that! I expected the odd twinge of jealousy, but not the way that realising that you just can't afford something you've always dreamed of hits you like a train.
That aside, I still think we're having more fun than the famous wedding couple. OK, they wont be compromising on the material side of things, but who's to say this is what they want. I saw an interview with Prince Harry on the news in which they asked about the wedding. He looked really restless like he just wanted to go and shoot at stuff. Harry is my favourite Royal just because he refuses to act as anything other than he is - a young guy. Anyway, in the interview he said something along the lines that they would have prefered a small, quiet wedding but they are who they are. So who's to say Kate isn't quietly seething because she doesn't want all the celebs there?
Not having a big budget can make wedding planning challenging but it's a lot of fun. Kate is missing out on the joy of bargain hunting for her wedding. I'm still riding high on getting a pair of shoes that cost £80 in the shop, brand new off ebay for £13. Turns out they're the perfect height for my dress and everytime I see them, I grin. Likewise, I managed to get 20% off the dresses for my flowergirls, and my veil cost a quarter of the amount the bridal shop were charging.
With so many suppliers lined up to provide services for the wedding, they'll miss out on finding out just how talented family and friends are and how far they're willing to go to help. We've got aunts taking care of the flowers, a friend designing the invitations, my bridesmaid is doing my makeup, and my future husband's friend's wife will be doing my nails. I've been knocked off my feet by how much people we care about have been willing to help, from my parents paying for my dress and cars "No daughter of mine will be wearing a dress that someone's had sex in", to my in-laws paying for our honeymoon. With a limited budget, people taking the time and paying the money out to come and join us on our big day also means so much, be it the family members coming from a city 50 miles away, or the friends announcing their intention to fly over from Australia as soon as we announced our engagement.
The ring too. My ring may not have cost the earth. It might not be from a deceased family member, but it's mine. I didn't pick it, husband to be did. He actually wanted to propose 6 months earlier but had to wait for his bonus (no, he's not a banker) to be able to afford it. Then he went and carefully chose something I'd like. He knew enough to know that I wouldn't want a solitaire diamond because most people have those. He found out my ring size and it fit perfectly and it meant so much that he'd done all that work.
On the day of the wedding, poor Kate is going to be subject to such intense scrutiny. What's she wearing? What does her hair look like? Does she cry? She'll get the inevitable Princess Diana comparisions which is dumb because she's not her, it's a different day, a different age, and hopefully Prince William isn't marrying her wishing she were someone else. If there's any hint of back fat, bingo wings, anything less than perfect she'll be slagged off in all the papers. It's expected that I wont look perfect and any bitchy comments will be made out of earshot and I'll never know. Kate will have constant reminders in every newspaper for weeks, months and years.
At our wedding, I'll be spending a lot of time in the receiving line (at the insistence of my future husband and my mother). I'm not looking forward to that but it's less than 80 guests. With thousands of guests Kate and Wills will be standing there for hours, their faces sore from smiling, desperate for a drink. They'll never manage to get round everyone, whereas I'll be able to freely mingle and dance with the majority of my guests.
Ahh guests. Another place where although not perfect, at least I wont have to worry about being upstaged. There will be nobody famous at my wedding. My prettiest friend is not a bridesmaid (not that I've picked munters, I just went for family members). Nobody will be wearing an outfit that cost more than mine. I hope nobody else will show up in white or ivory.
So, while our wedding might still be a fair way away and on a budget, it's ours. Our music, our cake choice, our dress choice, our guest list, our families joining into one extened alliance. Ohh what a scary thought.
Days to the wedding: 149
Level of mentalness: Low (apart from thinking my wedding is better!)
And these concessions hurt. I didn't expect that! I expected the odd twinge of jealousy, but not the way that realising that you just can't afford something you've always dreamed of hits you like a train.
That aside, I still think we're having more fun than the famous wedding couple. OK, they wont be compromising on the material side of things, but who's to say this is what they want. I saw an interview with Prince Harry on the news in which they asked about the wedding. He looked really restless like he just wanted to go and shoot at stuff. Harry is my favourite Royal just because he refuses to act as anything other than he is - a young guy. Anyway, in the interview he said something along the lines that they would have prefered a small, quiet wedding but they are who they are. So who's to say Kate isn't quietly seething because she doesn't want all the celebs there?
Not having a big budget can make wedding planning challenging but it's a lot of fun. Kate is missing out on the joy of bargain hunting for her wedding. I'm still riding high on getting a pair of shoes that cost £80 in the shop, brand new off ebay for £13. Turns out they're the perfect height for my dress and everytime I see them, I grin. Likewise, I managed to get 20% off the dresses for my flowergirls, and my veil cost a quarter of the amount the bridal shop were charging.
With so many suppliers lined up to provide services for the wedding, they'll miss out on finding out just how talented family and friends are and how far they're willing to go to help. We've got aunts taking care of the flowers, a friend designing the invitations, my bridesmaid is doing my makeup, and my future husband's friend's wife will be doing my nails. I've been knocked off my feet by how much people we care about have been willing to help, from my parents paying for my dress and cars "No daughter of mine will be wearing a dress that someone's had sex in", to my in-laws paying for our honeymoon. With a limited budget, people taking the time and paying the money out to come and join us on our big day also means so much, be it the family members coming from a city 50 miles away, or the friends announcing their intention to fly over from Australia as soon as we announced our engagement.
The ring too. My ring may not have cost the earth. It might not be from a deceased family member, but it's mine. I didn't pick it, husband to be did. He actually wanted to propose 6 months earlier but had to wait for his bonus (no, he's not a banker) to be able to afford it. Then he went and carefully chose something I'd like. He knew enough to know that I wouldn't want a solitaire diamond because most people have those. He found out my ring size and it fit perfectly and it meant so much that he'd done all that work.
On the day of the wedding, poor Kate is going to be subject to such intense scrutiny. What's she wearing? What does her hair look like? Does she cry? She'll get the inevitable Princess Diana comparisions which is dumb because she's not her, it's a different day, a different age, and hopefully Prince William isn't marrying her wishing she were someone else. If there's any hint of back fat, bingo wings, anything less than perfect she'll be slagged off in all the papers. It's expected that I wont look perfect and any bitchy comments will be made out of earshot and I'll never know. Kate will have constant reminders in every newspaper for weeks, months and years.
At our wedding, I'll be spending a lot of time in the receiving line (at the insistence of my future husband and my mother). I'm not looking forward to that but it's less than 80 guests. With thousands of guests Kate and Wills will be standing there for hours, their faces sore from smiling, desperate for a drink. They'll never manage to get round everyone, whereas I'll be able to freely mingle and dance with the majority of my guests.
Ahh guests. Another place where although not perfect, at least I wont have to worry about being upstaged. There will be nobody famous at my wedding. My prettiest friend is not a bridesmaid (not that I've picked munters, I just went for family members). Nobody will be wearing an outfit that cost more than mine. I hope nobody else will show up in white or ivory.
So, while our wedding might still be a fair way away and on a budget, it's ours. Our music, our cake choice, our dress choice, our guest list, our families joining into one extened alliance. Ohh what a scary thought.
Days to the wedding: 149
Level of mentalness: Low (apart from thinking my wedding is better!)
Wednesday 13 April 2011
The green eyed wedding monster
I'm not the most rational of people at the best of times and this wedding thing...phew. It's bringing out the worst.
It seems that when we got engaged we acted like a stick of dynamite, triggering a reaction amongst family and friends of a similar age. Suddenly, everyone and their aunt is getting married and I want to stomp my feet and scream "no fair!" over and over. To be fair, a friend of Mr Mental Bride kicked it off by running off to get married in Vegas, but to make me seem less crazy, I'm ignoring that.
Most of these weddings I can deal with, but there's just one that's making the green eyed mental bridezilla in me just seethe with loathing. Everyone has one of those mega-competitive friends. In this case, anything I can do, she can do better. I have a headache, so does she, no wait, it's worse than that! It's a migraine! No a brain tumour! I get a new job and she reminds me that I was rubbish at that subject in uni. I'm sure we all know the type. Sometimes I have fun making up crazy scenarios for her to top.
After Mr Mental Bride went down on one knee I knew it would drive her nuts and she nagged her OH until he also proposed (at Christmas natch). To be fair, he probably would have eventually done it anyway.
Anyway, I was worried they'd have their wedding before us, but no. They're having it almost a year to the day after ours. In Venice. Then a party when they get back. As she never asks a thing about my wedding, I quietly seethe everytime she mentions hers. Every email or facebook post.
No idea why I'm so pissed off. It's not like our weddings are similar or anything. I just wanted to be special for a bit....
Told you I was a crazy!!
Days to the wedding: 151
Level of craziness: Moderate
It seems that when we got engaged we acted like a stick of dynamite, triggering a reaction amongst family and friends of a similar age. Suddenly, everyone and their aunt is getting married and I want to stomp my feet and scream "no fair!" over and over. To be fair, a friend of Mr Mental Bride kicked it off by running off to get married in Vegas, but to make me seem less crazy, I'm ignoring that.
Most of these weddings I can deal with, but there's just one that's making the green eyed mental bridezilla in me just seethe with loathing. Everyone has one of those mega-competitive friends. In this case, anything I can do, she can do better. I have a headache, so does she, no wait, it's worse than that! It's a migraine! No a brain tumour! I get a new job and she reminds me that I was rubbish at that subject in uni. I'm sure we all know the type. Sometimes I have fun making up crazy scenarios for her to top.
After Mr Mental Bride went down on one knee I knew it would drive her nuts and she nagged her OH until he also proposed (at Christmas natch). To be fair, he probably would have eventually done it anyway.
Anyway, I was worried they'd have their wedding before us, but no. They're having it almost a year to the day after ours. In Venice. Then a party when they get back. As she never asks a thing about my wedding, I quietly seethe everytime she mentions hers. Every email or facebook post.
No idea why I'm so pissed off. It's not like our weddings are similar or anything. I just wanted to be special for a bit....
Told you I was a crazy!!
Days to the wedding: 151
Level of craziness: Moderate
Monday 11 April 2011
Karma has come...
...to bite me on the arse. After all my moaning about hubby to be's manflu, I've only gone and come down with it. And it's a doozy. My nose is running like a leaky tap, my throat is ouchy and I'm coughing hard enough that I fully expect to spit out a bit of lung at any moment.
In wedding planning world, we were at the in-laws for dinner last night and mother in law to be handed me a stack of very 80s flower arranging books, which I admit, I only looked at to be polite. Flicking through one, I came through the perfect flower arrangement for my centrepieces - square vases filled with cherries and another vase in the middle holding roses. It sounds strange, it looks really nice and if we can pull it off on budget, it'll match the colour scheme. Woohoo.
Days to wedding: 5 months or 153 days! Eeeek.
In wedding planning world, we were at the in-laws for dinner last night and mother in law to be handed me a stack of very 80s flower arranging books, which I admit, I only looked at to be polite. Flicking through one, I came through the perfect flower arrangement for my centrepieces - square vases filled with cherries and another vase in the middle holding roses. It sounds strange, it looks really nice and if we can pull it off on budget, it'll match the colour scheme. Woohoo.
Days to wedding: 5 months or 153 days! Eeeek.
Friday 8 April 2011
In sickness and in health? Really?
Really? I have to love him even when he's ill? Ok, I can probably just about manage that, as long as there is no expectations that I actually have to like him when he's ill. Oh dear. Manflu has arrived at the house of impending wedlock.
Now, I'm an IT bod. I work mainly with men, so I know how hardy they are. However, my chosen mate, turns into a petulant four year old when ill, requiring vast amounts of lemsip, cuddles and backrubs. And he refuses to swallow pills. Last time he was ill, he had a virus that caused his temperature to skyrocket to the point where I could have used him to defrost the freezer. As he refused to take pills I trotted off to the supermarket and bought some calpol. Calpol costs more than a pack of paracetomol and I got moaned at for buying him children's medication!!! This time, I'm losing patience. He's had the cold for a couple of days. Today, I took an early finish from work to take care of him. I arrived home, brought him some juice only to be told off because it wasn't in the fridge. It's his juice!! If it's not in the fridge, nothing to do with me. So I had to take the juice downstairs and get him some OJ. Then when I brought it back up to him, I got moaned at again because it interupted his wrestling watching. Only the presence of an electric blanket and my laziness stopped him from getting the a shower in the fecking juice!!!
In my more broody moments, I remind myself that I don't need a child. I've already got a 6'2" toddler.
Twat!
Days to wedding: 156 (maybe).
Now, I'm an IT bod. I work mainly with men, so I know how hardy they are. However, my chosen mate, turns into a petulant four year old when ill, requiring vast amounts of lemsip, cuddles and backrubs. And he refuses to swallow pills. Last time he was ill, he had a virus that caused his temperature to skyrocket to the point where I could have used him to defrost the freezer. As he refused to take pills I trotted off to the supermarket and bought some calpol. Calpol costs more than a pack of paracetomol and I got moaned at for buying him children's medication!!! This time, I'm losing patience. He's had the cold for a couple of days. Today, I took an early finish from work to take care of him. I arrived home, brought him some juice only to be told off because it wasn't in the fridge. It's his juice!! If it's not in the fridge, nothing to do with me. So I had to take the juice downstairs and get him some OJ. Then when I brought it back up to him, I got moaned at again because it interupted his wrestling watching. Only the presence of an electric blanket and my laziness stopped him from getting the a shower in the fecking juice!!!
In my more broody moments, I remind myself that I don't need a child. I've already got a 6'2" toddler.
Twat!
Days to wedding: 156 (maybe).
Tuesday 5 April 2011
In just over 5 months...
...I will be walking down the aisle. Well, not exactly an aisle as such - the whole not believing in God things puts paid to the big church wedding no matter how pretty the buildings might be. More an area in a hotel function suite with no chairs and a bad carpet. We're paying them ridiculous amounts of money - you'd think they'd lose the ugly carpet. Even bare floorboards would be preferable. I'm not sure about the carpet. It makes me sad in a way in which only orange and brown carpets can.
Anyway, sorry. I'll be walking down the aisle accompanied by my proud father, to be joined in errrm unholy matrimony to a man who claims he loves me although he prefers to spend all his time with his mistress, Football Manager 2011. By spending all his time with his computer, he doesn't see how mental I am, which I think is why we're still together.
My father will be vacillating (is that the right word?) between being proud of giving away his youngest daughter to a good Catholic boy and joyful that he finally gets to do this, me showing disturbing tendencies towards spinsterism. Truth is, my abject refusal to allow my parents to get anywhere near any of the miscreants and fuck-ups I dated through my 20s, made my parents and siblings believe that I would soon acquire 20 cats and be crazy cat lady (I tried, but I'm allergic) or that I was a lesbian. Again, I tried, but kissing girls didn't do much for me, except in the non-stubble rash way - although I do appreciate the free exfoliating I get when my future victim, sorry, husband, hasn't shaved. Anyway, back to this aisle. I will be walking down it in a dress that makes me look like a queen from a bygone age, flanked by bridesmaids that have done nothing to help me with the planning (bitches!!!) and worrying that I'm going to fall flat on my face in front of 75 or so of our nearest and dearest (the maximum we can afford to pay to feed). I say nearest and dearest. I mean, those family members that I don't like and never see but that I have to invite to keep the peace, at the expense of people I actually like. But that's a different story for another day.
This is where this diary comes in. You see, I've been having these Bridezilla type moments. Not the usual type "omigosh, the colour of the napkins is a tiny bit different from the colour of the favour bags" moments, because life is just too short and I don't care. More the "ohmigosh, my brother's kids are a group of Jeremy Kyle rejects, and they'll embarass me at this posh event and could I not just go back in time and put sterilising pills in his water supply and save society" type thoughts. As it would cause offence to them, I plan to express these thoughts here, where nobody can judge.
Days til the wedding: 159
Anyway, sorry. I'll be walking down the aisle accompanied by my proud father, to be joined in errrm unholy matrimony to a man who claims he loves me although he prefers to spend all his time with his mistress, Football Manager 2011. By spending all his time with his computer, he doesn't see how mental I am, which I think is why we're still together.
My father will be vacillating (is that the right word?) between being proud of giving away his youngest daughter to a good Catholic boy and joyful that he finally gets to do this, me showing disturbing tendencies towards spinsterism. Truth is, my abject refusal to allow my parents to get anywhere near any of the miscreants and fuck-ups I dated through my 20s, made my parents and siblings believe that I would soon acquire 20 cats and be crazy cat lady (I tried, but I'm allergic) or that I was a lesbian. Again, I tried, but kissing girls didn't do much for me, except in the non-stubble rash way - although I do appreciate the free exfoliating I get when my future victim, sorry, husband, hasn't shaved. Anyway, back to this aisle. I will be walking down it in a dress that makes me look like a queen from a bygone age, flanked by bridesmaids that have done nothing to help me with the planning (bitches!!!) and worrying that I'm going to fall flat on my face in front of 75 or so of our nearest and dearest (the maximum we can afford to pay to feed). I say nearest and dearest. I mean, those family members that I don't like and never see but that I have to invite to keep the peace, at the expense of people I actually like. But that's a different story for another day.
This is where this diary comes in. You see, I've been having these Bridezilla type moments. Not the usual type "omigosh, the colour of the napkins is a tiny bit different from the colour of the favour bags" moments, because life is just too short and I don't care. More the "ohmigosh, my brother's kids are a group of Jeremy Kyle rejects, and they'll embarass me at this posh event and could I not just go back in time and put sterilising pills in his water supply and save society" type thoughts. As it would cause offence to them, I plan to express these thoughts here, where nobody can judge.
Days til the wedding: 159
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)