Miss Me?

Hello there friends!! I have returned to you safe and sound and stuffed to the gills! I tell you Italian folks can co-ook! I had to roll myself away from every meal and y'all know I didn't miss a one. The most amazing part is how fresh everything is. I mean you couldn't find a jarred pasta sauce with both hands and a flashlight; if it ain't fresh, it ain't going on their table - an ideology I fully support...on other people's tables of course. Upon landing in the States, I immediately went to the grocery store and stocked up on pre-packed meals and frozen burritos cause who are we kidding, this fat girl isn't slaving away over a stove when there's Ti-Vo to be watched and thank you notes to be written.

Now I have returned to the big City just in time for freak night, and no Southerners, that is not every night in Manhattan. Halloween is observed with particular fervor here, as all repressed office slubs attempt to seduce their co-workers in sexy nurse costumes or some such predictable skankiness. While I have hard and fast Rules for Halloween Costumes, they do not all include having your breasts fall out all over the place. Unfortunately, these uptight girls, trapped all day in hi-rise hell, treat Halloween like a tawdry sex fantasy they want to share with 8 million of their closest friends.

But what can I say, it's New York City, if you can't hang out here, where can you? God, it's good to be home!

Sadie, Sadie married lady..

that's ME! (a song from Funny Girl for those not up on their Broadway allusions)

Well folks I have gone and gotten myself married, so I guess I'm Mrs. Queenan Potato from here on out. Of course all brides will tell you their wedding was the best, but y'all know mine really was. I mean the weather was perfect, the food was fabulous, and Sweetpotato didn't pass out during the ceremony so I'm claiming success!

Now I know I told you I wasn't gonna diet and I really didn't on purpose but I have to tell you that between the stress and the nerves and the constant entertaining, I didn't have time to eat for about 5 straight days. Can you imagine? My poor body has never missed a meal and then allofa sudden it's runnin' on sweet tea and adrenalin. The day before my wedding I saw numbers on that scale that haven't appeared since college. Hell, if I could get married once a month y'all'd be callin' me Ms. Richie.

Of course now I'm a little sad, I mean I've been practicing my whole life for a day entirely about me and here it's come and gone in the blink of an eye and my coach is back to a pumpkin. I guess that's what photos are for. You know I had just the most fabulous photographer, but even he couldn't catch me in a candid moment. I don't really believe in unposed pictures, what's the point? Why on earth would you want a picture of yourself mid-sentence with your eyes closed when you could be giving your best toothy grin? Lord one time, many, many years ago I didn't realize a photo was being taken and in my younger days I wasn't the classy broad I am today, so there I was in the corner of the frame justa a pickin' my nose to beat the band. Last week at a big wedding party there it was, blown up to life size and plastered to the wall for all to see. You have to love your family that will wait 14 YEARS to embarrass the hell out of you in front of your in-laws. Well, I have learned my lesson folks, hence it will be a cold day in hell before you catch this girl off guard!

Anyhoo, we had a fabulous time and while I don't have the pictures yet, let me just say that I was absolutely beautiful. I know everybody tells the bride she looks lovely, but my guests really meant it;-)
So today I'm off on my honeymoon across the pond, and while I will be thinkin' of y'all, I probably won't be writing cause there is wine to be drunk and love to be made. I promise to give you the full report upon my return...well, maybe not the FULL report, but the PG stuff at least. So y'all go surf the net while I'm away but don't forget about Queenie, y'all come back now, ya hear?

Wedding Woes

Now y'all may have noticed that I've been less than diligent in my posting as of late, and for that I do apologize. You see the thing is, my entire life has been sucked into the joys of wedding planning and my single friends told me they weren't interested in reading posts about being a bride cause they aren't brides.

Well, that's just too damn bad! This my world and I control what's written in it!

Okay, so I just have to say that other outbursts like the above, I have not been nearly the Bridezilla y'all would believe me to be. I will tell you though, that planning a wedding is the reason for so many broken engagements, I mean this stuff is ridiculous. One day you're consumed with this season's animal-print pumps and the next minute you're about to lose your mind for a chocolate-colored tablecloth! Never before in my life have I cared so much about centerpieces and chair upholstery, and to be sure I do not care now, I've just been guilted into it by every freaking bridal magazine on earth. In fact, I was in such denial that Sweetpotato finally had to go buy me a stack of those horrible wedding magazines just to make sure did in fact have a wedding.

And you would just not believe the crap in these magazines. If you think I have the time or the inclination to fashion individually wrapped heart-shaped boxes of truffles around every place card, you are out of your mind. In fact, I can't even be bothered with place cards. I do not carry who you sit beside, hell I don't care if you sit down at all. I have 947 pictures to smile for at the reception so Aunt Bobby Jo and Cousin Betty Sue can fight out their childhood issues in the parking lot, cause I'm not running interference with a seating chart.

There are just too many things left to do, all of them costly, and all I really wanna do is sit on the couch with my glass of merlot and watch Grey's Anatomy. Instead poor 'Tater and I spend every evening making lists and gettin in arguments over who pays the preacher! I mean really, you'd think you could get a break from the men of God, but weddings are big business these days and no one wants to miss out on their slice of the cake.

Mmmmm cake. Now there's a reason to get married, that and the 900 hundred wine glasses and thirty-five cheese platters. Now if only you could register for closet space, I'd be good to go!

Clubbing Across the Pond

So the above article was featured in the London Sunday Times a couple weeks ago. Can you believe this crap? It's certainly more worthy of US Weekly than the freakin Times! I mean they're actually advising people that the way to have a good time on your night out is to get completely shit-faced and start a fight with your identically dressed buddy then hop on public transportation so the entire city can watch you barf falafel.

Yes, excellent plan.

In America we would never be caught dead in the same outfit as our girlfriend, lest we find ourselves in the "Who Wore It Best" section of a tabloid, or on a non-celeb level, silently judged by random bar patrons. And no one who's anyone would ever wait in a line, why do you think flirting with bouncers is considered an art form? As for "the drunker the better" mentality, well most of us have left that in college (well most of us with two X-chromosomes anyway). You never want to be that girl, trust me, I have been that girl in an amphitheater during a Counting Crows concert and let me assure you it wasn't pretty.

If this is any indication of the nighttime behavior of our English friends, I have to say it is more than an ocean that divides us. I mean at least in America we don't advocate acting like trash in the Sunday edition of the country's most respected newspaper. Alas, if I have said it once, I have said it a bushel of times...it is no wonder the British lost the colonies.