As usual nothing can go just as smooth as a newborn baby’s ass.  This whole bridal underwear crisis was starting to wear on me a tad bit.

I had rescheduled with Angenette, the wedding dress alteration lady, for today to begin alterations on my gown. Of course that was assuming that my damn boob liftin, fat squashing chinese torture device arrived in time for me to carry it along to her house.

Did it come?  Why, hell no.

Found out when I finally checked my email this morning, that it, in fact, had not even shipped.  Found out that OOOPS, it ain’t even in stock!!!

Cancel my order!  Refund the Georges back to my credit card and piss off!!!

So, me and Olga wisk off to David’s Bridal for a fun time trying to shove me into a boned corset.  If you’ve never put one on, I suggest you try it.

It’s a delightful little contraption that effectively displaces fat to places it was never intented to be.  All the while cutting off all hopes of taking more than a gasp of air at a time. 

I have alot of breathing exercises to be performing before I am in this thing for the day.  Or like Elizabeth on Pirates I, I shall be passing out and falling off a cliff into the water.  Well, maybe nothing that extreme.  I’ll just pass out and fall at Anthony’s feet (hopefully after squeeking out, “I do”).

Anyway, if nothing else, it should make for good YouTube footage.

There are two things I’ve seen women be ecstatic and smiling through.  One is planning a wedding.  The other is childbirth.

I’ve decided that unless you have unlimited fundage and a perfect body, planning a beautiful wedding is nothing more than a super big charlie-horse right in my ass.

I guess I really shouldn’t be complaining, because things have finally started to work out as they should.  With the exception of the minister backing out, of course.

But, today I was supposed to have my dress fitting with the alterations lady, Angenette.  Well, my underwear that we ordered was supposed to be here on Friday but it wasn’t. This is a thing which resembles an archaic chinese torture device used to suck the breath out of women to keep them quiet!  I have no idea where the fat is supposed to go once we get me into it, but supposedly it’ll smooth one out under a wedding gown.

So, I had to call and reschedule with Angenette for next Monday.  Great!  Problem solved.  Not quite.

Today, the torture device arrived in a pretty little box.  Apparently the people who sewed the size into this thing were smoking some good shit at the time.  Because not only was it too small, but it fit my boss rather snug and she’s a tiny chick.  Way tiny, like a size 8 girl.  Now I’m no rocket scientist, but I would think if something is supposedly my size, but it fits her and it fits her snug, what the hell size am I supposed to get????

That was the only thing that made me feel even slightly less like a cow.

As I talked to Anthony whilst he was out on a ring shopping spree, in tears, he said, “Piss on it! Don’t wear underwear!”

God bless his heart!

     Every time your web browser sends a request to a webserver (an HTTPD), the browser returns a code, along with some content.
     Does everyone remember all of the HTTPD Codes?  I’m a dork, so I do…

     So Amanda from Fashionista TV was visiting today, and in browsing her site, I ran across her blog post about HTTPanties for sale from ThinkGeek…

     Given the above list, I can find plenty of more clever variations.  These messages could be extremely helpful prior to coredumping your RAM…. Really, you never want to have an infected Hard Drive, do you?

     How about “412 Precondition Failed” and “503 Service Unavailable” for the frigid?

     Perhaps sex workers could put “402 Payment Required” to good use.

     “303 See Other” for swinging married women who get around.

     “407 Proxy Authentication Required” is a shoe-in for bisexuals, and “409 Conflicting Request” works great if they’re still a bit confused…

     Lesbian consumers also have a number of options, but the best has to be “415 Unsupported Media Type.”

     Of course, “502 Bad Gateway” across the ass is usually a given… But “300 Multiple Choices” would work well for hermaphrodites, porn stars, and the exceptionally kinky…

     And I can certainly think of a few women who should be wearing “500 Internal Error” … 😉

Tip: Amanda at FasionistaTV