Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Several blogs at once

Thursday

Wow. A.S. and I had to meet with the minister last night and HE DID IT AGAIN. We were driving out to the church (trapped for one hour in car with pervert) and after talking about Venice, he suddenly asked me if I have an OB/GYN. Automatically rigid with impending horror, I quavered out a “Yeess.” And he asked me whether or not I’m going to have a gynecological exam before the wedding. WHAT THE FUCK? I’m all, “Why, do you want a picture?” A.S. wouldn’t even look at me because he was trying not to have hysterics.

He wanted to verify that my womb is not anatomically deformed and that I can have children, but I really think that it’s NONE OF HIS FUCKING BUSINESS!!

So...if my womb is a rocky barren place where A.S.’s seed can find no purchase, the wedding is off? If I want to punch a man of God, will I go to hell? Or is it only if I actually punch him that I will burn for all eternity?

He is so NOT getting a letter from my lovely gyno.

I didn't hear him asking A.S. to do his business in a cup for crying out loud? Why is this man only obnoxious to ME?



Tuesday (early)

Well today more than made up for the terrible horrible no good very bad day I had yesterday, when I could do no right and my CEO hated my guts and was probably itching to fire me for a lot of stuff that isn’t even in the same time zone as my job description. So there.

But today, I am rocking out. I have almost all of my monumental tasks finished, have dashed off a press release, finished two demos and presentations, booked two cannons, found a PR consultant in New York, booked my hair and makeup for the wedding, and got permission to do my portrait at the plantation where A.S. proposed. And yes, I did say “cannons.”

One-sided phone conversation:

Hi, Ned, it’s Jemima here. I was in a meeting this morning and my CEO asked who in the hell could find a cannon, and I raised my hand and said, ‘Oh, me! Me! Pick me!
...
No, no, right here in the building.
...
A mortar artillery cannon on 30-inch wheels?
...
Well, yeah, there are civilians around.
...
Flames, eh? Flames are great! We set stuff on fire here a lot actually.
...
Twelve foot flames? Wow, that’s going to be awesome!
...
Well, yeah, if it shoots out a car or the building windows, so much the better. We love destruction.
...
Mmmm, wellll, we actually want it for two dates. The CEO wants a battle off of *** Island, with one on the schooner Pride and one on land.
...
Oh your friend has one with a maritime mooring? That sounds perfect?
...
Oh hell no, don’t call the police for permission. Around here, we raise hell first and apologize later.
...
Okay, bye-bye.


Tuesday (late)

Today is 25 days until my wedding. Someone said it was less than 3 weeks, and that is just patently untrue. God, give me a heart attack already.

I’m starting to calm down again, and I think it’s helped that, although occupying the same house, A.S. and I are not getting in each other’s way and seem to have plenty of time for our own activities. For instance, he went surfing yesterday after his first day of work, while I took Dog for a run around the battery. It was a perfect evening, despite drizzle and wind...so I guess perfect for running. There weren’t many people out, and it wasn’t too hot. I haven’t gone running by myself in a long time, and I’d forgotten how soothing it is.

I’ve managed to work out some of the last minute details that I’d been putting off, such as hair and makeup and trial runs for portraits. Holly at Nothing But Bonfires is always pimping her sweet boyfriend Sean out for web and photography work, so I’ve finally taken her up on it, although I am actually paying him rather than taking Holly up on her generous offers for him to work for free. He is going to take my wedding portraits on Thursday, at the very plantation where A.S. proposed. It’s the loveliest, most romantic spot, and this way, A.S. and I will remember it always. Sean is a brilliant photographer, and although I am not nearly as photogenic as Holly, hopefully he can make me look at least non-deformed. But my dress only just arrived, and the damned photo has to be at the newspaper by next Monday, and my other portrait photographer fell through, and how lucky am I to have talented and kind friends?

I saw Holly and Sean at his Getting Out Of The Navy party last Saturday, and this is how my conversation went with Drunk Holly:

Jemima: Um, Holly, can I have my ring back?

Drunk Holly: No! You and A.S. and I are all engaged. We’re all three getting married and moving to San Francisco.

Jemima: Then we’d better move to Utah.

Drunk Holly: Look the ring fits!

A.S.: No, really, Holly, is that thing going to come off? I haven’t finished paying for it yet.

Drunk Holly: What!? Are you saying I’m fat?

A.S.: What?

Drunk Holly: Are you saying my finger is fatter than Jemima’s? That’s so mean, A.S.!

A.S.: What?

Holly: Sean, A.S. just said I was fat! Kill him!

Sean: Give the ring back.

Sarah: Please?

Drunk Holly: Ooh, we need more wine!

She also wanted me to go ask Sean embarrassing questions, and I’m reasonably certain that she’s glad that I didn’t now. Aren’t you, you tacky whore? You’d better be bringing me Cadbury’s.



It was an awesome party, which could only have been exceeded by the appearance of porncake. Navy uniforms were burned. Interns threw up. A.S and I went from champagne to the Champagne of Beers, since we came from a wedding beforehand. The next morning would have been considerably improved by my mother not calling at 8:30 in the morning. Curse her. A.S. has gallantly offered to get a separate phone number just for her use, and when she calls in the morning, which she ALWAYS does, he will answer the phone and sound REALLY pissed. I was all, “You would be snarky to my mother? For me? Really? Awww, that’s soooo romantic!”

Really, when someone offers to be passive aggressive FOR you, it’s true love.

12 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dude, your hair is so long!!!! I think it's been too long since I've seen you.

Rachel

Alexandrialeigh said...

I was just going to say the same thing. I have never seen your hair so long!

Painter Beach Girl said...

This was very funny, especially about pervert guy who is "marrying" you. Ach, can't you find someone else to do it? Sheesh. You've gotta tell the man off, like ask him if he wants you to stip down so HE can do the gynocological exam himself....He is so gross.

barbie2be said...

dude, next time i need cannons i am totally going to call you. you've obviously got the hook up.

Thespian Libby said...

You cannot have this wretched little man perform your wedding. He is vile and entirely out of line. Yuck.

Part of me is sorry I missed the highlights of the Out of the Navy Party, and part of me is oh so very relieved.

And where did you find burly men to move your from your old apartment into your new one, as Lovely Neighbor Stacy and I have been kicked into the streets.....

Wordnerd said...

Ummm...it's none of MY bidness, but...the minister? Lose him after the wedding. He sounds creepy!

NothingButBonfires said...

I was totally worried the next morning that I hadn't given the ring back to you. Also, I'm now regretting that I sent that picture to you.

Anonymous said...

For the record, I'm in total agreement about firing That Man. However, the wedding is in 17 days (involuntary chocking noise) and it's a little hard to find someone else at this juncture.

The hair is definitely too long, but after forking out for hair and makeup and portrait and Strokes tickets, I can't even afford a Super Cuts. I really ought to get one though, since I don't want all my honeymoon pictures to be of my split ends.

Thesbian Libby, you definitely need to call Two Men and a Truck, since I think they're the only ones who move apartments. Where are you going to move? And when? I'm so sad for you and Lovely Neighbor Stacey.

And Bonfires, that picture is so much better of you than of me, because my gums are all showing and my nose is too pointy and my hair looks WEIRD. You just look cute and a little drunk.

-Jem (from work)

Marcheline said...

Jem -

Firstly, you seriously need to ditch that priest. I had a youth pastor that was creepy like that once - he told me at a pool party that he could see my nipples through my bathing suit, and that I should get a different bathing suit. I was thinking, "Did he just talk to me about seeing my nipples?????" Then, at a winter retreat, he gave me a "backrub" that somehow involved sliding his hands around to the front under my shirt. I ended the backrub immediately, but the creepiness had still occurred.

Take it from me - if you have a creepy priest, you need to GET FAR AWAY FROM HIM. There are a zillion cool people in the world who are qualified to marry you and A.S. Why get married by a pervert? It doesn't sound like good wedding karma to me.

- M

P.S. I knew Holly would gripe about that picture.

Meg said...

Lord, you're both gorgeous.

Maggie said...

The minister is totally and completely nuts! What is going on in his head? Oh, wait. I don't want to know.

roo said...

Yeah, why DIDN'T Rev. Creepy McFreakerson ask AS about the state of his sperm, if he's so concerned about the reproductive health of the two of you?
Not only is he creepy, he's sexist to boot!