Haiku Friday.

We cry, "Ignorance!"
yet debate and thought is shunned
for Honey Boo Boo.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/live-feed/honey-boo-boo-ratings-republican-national-convention-367022

Woman plus hot dog plus sophomoric buffoons equals:

Readers, I want to write about an incident that happened on Friday. I have a lot of difficulty writing about this, because this subject honestly makes me very uncomfortable and very, VERY angry.

On Friday evening, as I was on my way home from a long, frustrating, and exhausting day, I decided that I didn't feel like cooking. I went ahead and cheated on my pescetarian diet "just this once", stopped by Dog Japan (the amazing Japanese hotdog stand, either located across from the Pike street Wallgreens or across from the Nordstrom Rack), picked up a plain hot dog with ketchup and onions and went on my way.

Readers, I thought that I lived in a city filled with mature adults. But it seems as if asshole-ish troglodytes like to congregate in downtown Seattle on Friday evenings.

While walking home, I witnessed three lewd gestures, I was the recipient of two "Yeah, Girl" comments, and I walked by at least two groups of grown ass men who would whisper to one another and then break out into hysterical laughter, pointing at the exhausted 20-something in the black suit, eating a hot dog.

An effing hot dog, Readers. For some reason, a woman walking alone eating a hot dog on a Friday night is a magnet for dumbassery.

This...kind of ruined my weekend. What makes it a bit worse, Readers? I highly suspect that if John (who has the build of an upscale nightclub bouncer) was with me, these fools would not have DARED making any of those comments or gestures, lest my fiance beat their faces into an unrecognizable pulp (which was his first impulse after I told him why I was so flustered when I got home).

I shouldn't have to rely on John (or my brother, or my dad, or any male, for that matter) in order to, you know, NOT be harassed and/or humiliated should I decide to eat a hot dog (or wear shorts, or dance, or wear a bathing suit, etc) in public.

I'm not going to whine about the "sexual double standard", or go on about how "Those guys judged me before even knowing me!" or about how "Misogyny is bad, m-kay?" We've all read that a million times, Readers. We know this, it's not exactly news.

Which is why this behavior baffles and really bothers me.

Readers, I'm obviously not going to place the blame for these childish cretins' behavior on ALL of those who have a Y chromosome. But holy crap, fellas, does it really take the perceived threat of getting your ass whooped in order for the less mature of you to NOT act like a sex-starved Neanderthal?

Ugh. I need to crochet something.

Until next time, Readers.

Haiku Friday.

On Mario Kart,
Toad's engine sounds a bit like
Baby Chewbacca.

Fetch some smelling salts!

This almost-exact scenario happened, except the dude in the jacket was my coworker (who was also dutifully holding up a Puke Pail for me) and the lady behind the curtain was a team of paramedics.

So, Readers, I fainted for the first time in my life on Friday. At work. In front of clients. And my company's vice president. Suffice to say, it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life so far and I NEVER want to have that happen ever again.

I will spare you all the gory details of my  little "episode", but I will say, Readers, that throughout the whole humiliating ordeal I learned just how much I appreciate and care for my coworkers. I was very well taken care of while I was "out", and once I came to I was guided to an empty conference room where I sat in a zombie-like state until the paramedics showed up to make sure that I wasn't dying.

 I had a supervisor on one side, asking me the usual battery of "OMG are you alright?" questions: if these "fainting spells" have happened before, if there was any chance I was pregnant, if I had eaten that day, and so on and so forth. My other supervisor was on my other side, cracking "You think THAT's bad?" remarks which, in all honestly, brought me a lot of comfort as I had just lived through one of my worst nightmares.

Once the paramedics were satisfied that there was nothing wrong with my heart or lungs (and that I didn't hurt myself too badly when I fell), I curled up and slept in our offices' "sick room" until my fiance could come and take me home (they didn't want me going home by myself). We were going to call a cab, but because it would have taken about an hour, one of our head administrators gave us both a ride to my apartment.

Readers, when one of your upper-level managers will gladly drive you, a lowly receptionist, home because a cab would take too long, you know you're working in a good environment. Plus, by the time I got home, a bouquet of hand-tied multicolored roses was waiting for me at my door, sent by my co-workers.

John took me to urgent care where they basically told me that I was severely dehydrated and that I need to eat more. I can't help but hang my head a bit in shame;  it's true that I have been dieting to lose a little weight before the wedding day...and I'm ashamed to say that before my fainting spell, I had not eaten all day, not necessarily because I thought I was fat, but because I was so overwhelmed with the wedding coming up that I literally forgot to eat.

John, once again, has proved himself to be the best almost-husband ever. He drove me to and from urgent care, he set up a little "nest" for me on my couch,  he fed me Popsicles, he set his iPhone timer for the doctor's "fluid intake schedule" ("Hon, it's been an hour. Drink another glass.") and played Mario Kart with me until the color returned to my lips (apparently, while I was "out", my lips were the same color as my forehead. That's terrifying).

What have I learned from this ordeal? That: 1. I know I can fully count on those I care about to catch me as I'm falling (literally!), 2. That I will never, EVER let myself go that long without eating or drinking ever again, and 3. That God has provided me, yet again, with the miracles that are my friends and loved ones.

Drink lots of water, Readers! Until next time!

Haiku Friday

My face reveals a
Bemused smirk when they mistake
Me for a lawyer.

(Seriously, Readers, whenever I wear my good black suit I'm mistaken for "the new associate." It's kind of awesome).

Belated Haiku/How to make an Emoti-Margarita

I'm a busy bride.
I can miss a weekly verse
If I so desire.

Apologies, Readers, for missing last week's Haiku Friday. I assure you all that I do have a good reason, though:

pictures courtesy of my fabulous sister (in red). Love you, Q-sie!

I was busy getting my Bridal Butt kicked at croquet, nibbling on delicate delights, drinking tea, being the "Bat Bride*", and celebrating my transition from "Miss" to "Mrs." with family and friends.

My friends, family and neighbors put together one of the two most wonderful bridal showers in the history of bridal showers. I was deliberately kept in the dark as far as planning went, so the minute I stepped out of the car, my jaw hit the ground and stayed there for the duration of the event.

Some very close family friends (who have been a part of my life since I was 10) hosted the event, and under the direction of my parents neighbor (another very close family friend, who I now know is the human embodiment of the Fairy Godmother paradigm), had transformed their front yard into a fairy tale-like tea garden, complete with croquet, cucumber sandwiches, twinkling lights, and BEAUTIFUL flowers:

My mother arranged these herself!

It never ceases to amaze me how life transitions such as this one have a tendency to bring out ALL of my inner emotions, place them in a blender with ice and lime, shakes/mixes them up into one giant Emoti-Margarita, pours the emotional mix back into my brain, and garnishes the swirling mix of euphoria/nostalgia/fear/joy with a tiny umbrella, metaphorically speaking. Throughout the shower, I laughed, I cried, I ran around and squealed like a dork, and I sighed as I was overcome with nostalgic memories. It seems like it was just last week that I was running around that front yard as a kid, throwing water balloons.

I thought that it had "hit me", Readers, that I am getting married in less than a month, but it seems as if these things never quite stop "hitting" me.  I must be walking around with a giant, William-Tell-esque target on my heart, as I'm constantly getting "hit" by emotions as the wedding day gets closer and closer.

Put down a deposit on the one bedroom apartment were John and I will be living as husband and wife? Direct hit.

My final wedding dress fitting, with the veil, jewelry and everything? Direct hit.

Future hubby and I bought our wedding bands? Direct hit.

Bridal shower? Deeeeeerect hit.

I was hit with emotions, yes, Readers, but the bridal shower was still beautiful and wonderful. I am so blessed to have such amazing family and friends!

*Note: The "Bat Bride" comes from a hilarious story when I was out wedding dress shopping. I'll write on that later <3

Until next time <3

Haiku Friday

Ya know, I don't think
Christ meant us to praise him with
Buying fatty food.

Wedding Planning Hooplah part 5: It's time to play....WHAT'S THAT SONG FOR???

John and I are having WAY too much fun in choosing music for the both the wedding ceremony and reception.

The ceremony will be, of course, VERY traditional. The church has this huge/gorgeous/amazing pipe organ that we will be taking full advantage of!

We found an arrangement of this for the organ, which will be my prelude:

Readers, I am going to post some of the music that we're considering for the reception. We are going to play our new absolutely favorite game....


WHAT'S.......



THAT.......



SONG FOR????

Have an awesome afternoon, Readers! Leave me your guesses in the comments!