thursday funnies...bridal brain, 16 Candles, and a hound dog

Today I was going to show you how to make a pretty coffee mug out of one you mayyyy or may not have permanently borrowed from a hotel you stayed at for a significant life event. Say, a honeymoon, for example. But that's going to wait until tomorrow because I came across a picture that made me laugh at myself.

Enjoy my embarrassment.

"Mom, are you really about to tell this story? Get it together, woman."

I'm sure I can't be the only bride to experience what I affectionately dubbed "bridal brain" the week before her wedding.

I lost all sense of intelligence. In fact, I lost all common sense. Many things happened to or around me that just made no sense.

I was grounded from wearing socks inside the house after approximately seven falls, the most traumatic of which was me bending over too quickly to put a collar on that judging little furball I love so much above. I missed. Instead I hit my forehead quite hard on the corner of a wall. It was sticking out, I was far closer than I thought, and BANG. Knocked me flat on my butt. 

A week before the wedding and I had a very large, very visible bruise front and center on my face. No more socks for me. Thanks, mom.

I also somehow decided that 32 feet of fabric could be achieved with 5 yards of fabric. Not so, folks. Not so. That turned into a day long ordeal of finding matching fabric at appropriate lengths. Not an easy task, though one might assume so.

And here's where it gets funniest.

Somehow, while wearing my glasses, I was suddenly no longer wearing them.

I mean, I always knew I had crappy vision, but...
(me so punny)

They were on my face, helping me not be blind, doing their job like all good glasses do. Then I heard a plop and a splash, and looked down. My glasses were in the toilet. Inexplicably in the toilet. Praise the lamb it was empty.

This was the final bridal brain incident, thank God. We finished all wedding DIY projects three days before, just in time to hang out with our wonderful forever friends from California who have known me since I was in diapers and flew all the way here for the big day.

And then the day before our wedding I got sick. Like, real sick. Like, parents trying to figure out if you can postpone a wedding or have the ceremony performed bedside at the doctor and husband to be freaking out that he might have a 16 Candles-esque drugged up propped up bride, if she can even show up at all.

Thankfully I managed to get it together long enough to be a bride, say my vows, get a new name, and take a few pictures. I even danced a couple times. I might have even made it out for Sir Mixalot. Why, yes, I did demand I Like Big Butts be played at my wedding. I've got a pretty fab big butt, so I wanted to shake it.

I don't remember much about the wedding. People have asked me how it was and all I can say is, "Well I think I looked pretty good and I left married, but you'll have to ask someone else how it all went, because I was very sick." It turned out to be bronchitis. Which I didn't go to the doctor for until three days after getting home from the honeymoon because I'm the most stubborn person ever because  I was afraid of getting a shot  I didn't want to waste money if it was just a virus.

Whatever. It was still the perfect wedding because at the end I left married. Hey, here's a fun post about why exactly I did that!

And my inexplicable streak of stupidity bridal brain was cured with the introduction of an intensive antibiotic cycle. Which also cleared up the bronchitis after about three weeks.

Tomorrow we'll make something pretty. Today, we're just going to laugh at me. Don't worry, I laugh at me all the time!