Friday, December 30, 2011

Pretend You're My Therapist

It goes like this:  I ended my long and complicated relationship with the company I worked for and moved in to a private, for-profit job (no one likes profit more than me, my friend) which gave me almost two weeks off for Christmas (and Hanukkah) after only working there two weeks.  This time off has also coincided with Beloved's regularly scheduled week-off-per-month. This is the second time this year that we've been able to have dedicated time off together.  In this time, we've managed to have a fantastic Christmas (I'm proud to say my blog garnered me a fabulous vacuum, but sadly, no nose-hair trimmer) and we were able to unload the ol PT Cruiser in favor of a vehicle that won't ensure my untimely end. 
What we haven't been able to do is find internet service.  Every single company I've called does not provide service to our area.  We live on the main road.  Spitting distance from the town line into Eddington.  Eddington has service.  All of my Clifton jokes are coming back to haunt me.  It's like living in the third world.  I have started sending out "$3 a day can provide all the luxury essentials this girl would need" to friends and relatives (look for yours soon...or provide me with your email address if you'd prefer to do a Paypal transfer.)
As for the wedding front, we've secured a reception site.  It wasn't without tears (me) and F-bombs (Beloved), but we took the first place that didn't make me want to punch someone.  If you're going to show off and try to entice me to have "the most memorable day of my life" in your location, please clean the effing carpets.  And know where the light switches are.  And take down the ramshackle Christmas decorations.  And take my body size into consideration.  I come from big people.  There is no way we would fit into the room you so confidently feel will hold over 100 people.  And no one will dance on a 3x3 dance floor.  My personal space is larger than that.  Next up is trying to secure DJ, photographer, and a wedding dress.  I'd be a cash-cow for a show on TLC if they only knew enough to film me.  Mad props to Beloved for jumping into the helping with both feet.  He still doesn't feel like we're under any time crunch...he's just happy he doesn't have to wear a tuxedo and that no one will make him do the Electric Slide.

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