So, today marks the day of an ever so joyous event.  Diva’s bachelorette party!!!  Yay!

Well, our beloved Mark is sitting back, and sniveling, because he has a penis, not a vagina.

No penises at Diva’s bachelorette party.  Only people who are proud owners of a vagina are allowed as we will be greatly misbehaved and no males are allowed to be there to witness such naughty things as will be going on tonight. You´ll have your time to have fun, whatever that means for guys. What do they do on a Bachelor party?

In addition to lotsa drinkin, games on tap include:

Pin the bow-tie on the bachelor, Do or dare cards (which promises to be loads of fun since Robyn will do almost anything if dared), and a naughty scavenger hunt.

Details and photographic evidence to follow.

I just hate craving that damned chinese food from that damned yummy place over here by the office. 

I mean, I get a craving for it and I decided that, despite the fact I know that evil ass munch won’t give me the fortune cookie without a square off in the middle of the parking lot, I was going to go have me some tastey morsels of saucy goodness.

So, as usual, I go in, get my little styrofoam container, proceed to the buffet of happiness, load up my choices and go to the register to pay.  I set my container on the scale, as they charge for buffet to go by the pound.  This is where it the ugly gets on.

So, everything seems to be going smooth.  I’m mentally preparing for the fight for the fortune cookie.  I intend to win this time. 

“You need sauce or fork?” he asks me all smug like.

“Nope. But I want a Diet Pepsi,”  I tell him.

“Diet Pesi!” he calls out to the chick at the waitress station.

She totes it over and sets it on the counter as he rings me up. 

“That be $4.62,” he tells me.

UH OH!  Houston we have a problem.  Diva don’t carry cash.  Just something I don’t do.  It’s way too easy to use my debit card to have to fool around with dollars.

This ass munch “only takey the credit cawd fo ova fi dolla.”  Hasn’t he seen that VISA commercial that shows the world is officially going plastic???

Still yet, I try to slip it by him.  I pull out my debit card with VISA logo and push it toward him.

“We only take cawd fo purchase ova fi dolla,” he reminds me.

“Look guy, I don’t have any cash.  Well I have a handful of change in the bottom of my purse, but not enough,” I tell him as show him my empty wallet.

“You always can get another drink take wif you,” he tells me.

“Uh, no. You can run my card or I’ll have to leave it,” I tell him, now pissed.

“Well, I not running cawd.  You get cash, come back,” he tells me.

“OK, fine!”  So, I walk out the door.  No lunch, no friggin fortune cookie, and definitely no balls to tell him what he could do with his no useless carton of to-go.

God Bless Taco Bell.  They’ll takey my debit card for an eighty-nine cent bean burrito.

So, I’m still extremely new to this living in the same house and sharing the same bedroom full time thing. Not that it’s bad.  Actually, it’s quite nice being able to reach over in the night and play with his hair or crawl across the bed and give him a light little kiss while he’s sleeping. 

What is taking some definite time to get used to is the fact that his alarm clock is a screamer!  When I say screamer, I don’t mean one of those annoying buzzer sounding things.  I mean it’s an indescribable sound that has rattled my ass awake a 4:45 in the morning.  Not only does it rattle my ass awake, the clock actually grows legs, walks around the bed to my side, shakes the piss out of me, picks me up and drops me right in the middle of the bedroom.

Now, I’m not a morning person by any means.  It really doesn’t matter if I get 4 or 8 hours of sleep.  But when that damn thing goes off before the chickens are even awake, that’s a problem for me.  Especially since his ass doesn’t get up when it goes off the first time.  No.  He slaps the snooooze button like 6 times.  So, six times I get picked up and dropped on my ass in the middle of the floor before daylight.  What the hell?  We are gonna have to find an empass.  A new alarm clock, maybe?  Setting the bitch a little later instead of hitting snooooooze so many times, maybe?

Anyway, so he finally wakes up after the 7th roar of the alarm.  I’m wide awake already.  Sitting up in bed, smoking a ciggie, waiting for coffee to get done. Me and the cat staring at him, daring him to hit snooooze again. Thank Jesus, no more snooooze button. 

He rolls over, smiles all sweet and says, “Honey, I know I complain alot.”

“What’s the matter?”  I ask in the sweetest 5am voice I can muster.

“Well, I woke up and had to pull this out of my ass.”  He says as he hands the DVD player remote to me laughing his ass off.

God bless his little heart. I love him so much.  Maybe this is the answer to my being late to work every day.  If I’m dropped in the floor and wide awake by 5am, surely I can make it work work on time by 8:30?
 

So, this wedding hasn’t exactly went off without a hitch… If I don’t end up in a padded room by the end of this thing it will be a miracle..

Leave us recap all of the issues, shall we?

**I mean, the date has been changed from July 14th to June 2nd and now (officially) September 29th.

**My stepbrother (the preacherman) was who was supposed to officiate the ceremony, ceremoniously backed out on me without letting me know.

**My chinese torture underwear has been returned for the proper size, yet the company has yet to send the replacement (the bastards).

**I am now going to have to reschedule AGAIN with the dress alteration lady.

GAAAA!!!! Then there is the issue with the cake.

Now call me simple-minded. But ain’t cake, cake? Nothing more, nothing less?
At least that is what I thought when I started all this.

My original cake lady gave me the schpeel about how her cakes cost from $2 – $2.50 per serving. Now, I’m thinkin, if all of these folks that have been invited to this here illustrious event show, I’m gonna end up shellin out around $450 for a cake.

Cake, kids. Flour, eggs, oil, frosting. A cake. She cuts me a deal, and agrees on $230.00 set up and all.

Well, when the wedding got cancelled twice, I ended up losing the original cake lady. Which I was really bummed about, because although it was ass expensive, she was talented enough to make me the cake I wanted:

But alas, Elaine is looney and completely booked from now until Jesus comes back.

So, Olga (my boss) comes in this past Monday morning and says “Dude, you know when one door closes, another one opens.” She had found someone, quite by accident, that does cakes. Yay!

Or so I thought. So, the lady calls me. We discuss the cake and how many I need to feed with this cake and so on… She goes on to tell me that she doesn’t do that pricing by the piece stuff. I was thinking, “are you for real? You rock cake chick!”.

So, she says give her a day or so to work on pricing and she’d get back to me. Well, today was the day. The phone range this morning and I was thrilled to be hearing back from her so promptly.

She says she can do the cake (mind you, I downsized from the original cake, so it was smaller). And she’ll do the cake for a measley $550.00.

Sweet Holy Jesus, I almost fell over. Since I was at the office and unable to pass out right that second, I settled for my jaw dropping so far it hit my desk.

I thanked her kindly for her call, and told her I had to get in touch with my Mama since she is the one paying for it. We’ve decided to forego the half thousand dollar delight and put the blame on my Mom. She’ll never know.

Anyway, off to Food City I go, as in a previous grocery foraging expedition, I noted in the back of my mind, that they have cakes for all occassions.

Seriously, who give two shakes of pig poo if the things tastes like sweet cardboard. It’s still cake. Like anybody will eat it anyway.
Well, anybody other than my paternal grandfather would would eat the leather off of a shoe if it had icing on it.

They are going to prepare me a cake, that althought it ain’t nearly what I wanted to begin with, will do. Especially for the $$.

For a mere $160 plus tax, we are getting a mighty fine work of edible art.

But still, I beg of you this answer… Ain’t a cake, a cake?

I could just as easily go to Sam’s and get a mac sized cake for $21.99. And they’ll even airbrush Spiderman on it if I want. =)

     Apparently, Ashwin Khanna, the illustrious “Win $2500 for posting about my blog!”, is well on his way to being labeled “notorious.”

     Ashwin, henceforth known as “Asswin,” is nothing more than an 18-year-old, aspiring scam artist from London who seems to think it’s okay to use bullshit tactics to improve his search engine ranking … much like our last Asshat of the Day recipient, Steve Gallay, who used everyone who participated in a “Win $50!” contest to improve his search engine ranking by posting very little information about a missing child with links to his homepage instead of to an informative artcle.

What Serr8d said about Gallay applies perfectly to Asswin Khanna, as well:

…he’s definitely a royal flush of an asshat…

Just to let you know, Asswin, you’re only 18 and have an entire life of fraud ahead of you.  Nice to know you’ve started out so well!  I mean, what’s next?  Impossible-to-win footy boards?  A small pawn-and-loan-slash-fencing-operation here in Barnet?  Maybe a few billion e-mails asking for assistance in helping you get the money out of the bank account of a dead relative?
Seriously, Asshat, what you’ve done is Fraud, plain and simple.  I hope someone takes a whiz in your Shreddies with video identifcations security.

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