Monday, October 1, 2012

Hot Off The Press

Because I share a wedding anniversary with Anne Hathaway but have no publicist of my own, I thought I would make my own publicity, and then rightly flee to my honeymoon in about 2 hours.  Read the original article here, then read my "Mad Libs" version.  Here we go...

Angelina Ford marries Andrew Stearns

Forget "Anne Hathaway Marries Adam Shulman" - this weekend it was Angelina Ford's turn to tie the knot!
The Michael Goldberg, D.M.D. staffer, 31, wed her love of three years, 28-year-old master electrician/Black Bear Hydro employee Andrew Stearns, in scenic Eddington, ME on Saturday afternoon, according to multiple reports.
The ridiculously fast ceremony took place at the North Brewer-Eddington United Methodist Church overlooking the Penobscot River, while nearly 125 of the couple's friends and family members (who were taken to the venue via their own vehicles) looked on, according to the bride, who was first to report the happy news.
Angelina and Andrew kept the location of their wedding very public prior to the big day, and required guests to RSVP to the ceremony, she reported.
The newlyweds kicked off their wedding weekend with a rehearsal dinner at Paddy Murphy's on Friday, and chose to adorn their wedding locale with roses and white bows.  They like to keep things simple.
The stunning bride, who will soon be trying to figure out how to change her name at the social security office, wore a flowing, strapless white gown designed by Someone (she forgets who and is too lazy to go to the closet to check), complete with a mid-back length veil to hide any back fat that may have erupted.
Angelina and her now-husband began dating in September 2009 and announced their engagement in September 2011.
A rep for the bride confirmed the news to Facebook at the time and revealed Angelina's engagement ring was "wicked nice."

--Angelina Stearns

Copyright 2012

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Greetings from the Hellcatacombs

Geary:  Mama has been unusually silent on her blog, so we felt it best to wage a hostile takeover and devote at least one posting to ourselves.  I'm sure there will be many more to follow.
Rocky:  Brother, I found my tail again!  (Chase, chase, chase, chase)
Geary:  Forgive Rocky.  He's often sprayed with the naughty water bottle, or as I've re-named it, the "No Rocky!" Water Bottle.  I'm just repeating what I hear my parents say.  Little pitchers, people.  Anyhow, Daddy is at work and Mama is probably crap-fishing in our litter box, so I thought I would upload a photo of each of us and a short biography.  You're welcome.

Does this couch make me look fat?

I was originally named "Sheldon" by the people who found me, and "Geary" was just a nickname that stuck because I lapped up some of that fine ale that was carelessly spilled by The Cat Whisperer, who is a friend of my parents and the person who gave me to my parents.  Daddy didn't like the name "Sheldon" anyhow.  
I am more like Mama, as I will push people out of the way if there is food to be had, and I have a hard time jumping up onto high surfaces due to my girth (I mean, it gets done, but there will be some hesitant noises discharged from my Fancy Feast-hole.)   My most recent Act of Terror was breaking an Eiffel Tower plate in the entryway which held lots of paperclips.  Messy, messy.  Mama was none-too-pleased as she loves French things and hates when I break her crap.  Ah me, c'est la vie, Mama. Ce chat est très vilains!  I prefer snuggling with Daddy but will take Mama as the back up option.  Or the pink blanket.  I'm not so picky.

I do Feline Yoga...this is called "Kitten's Pose"

 Rocky is my brother.  I don't know our birth order, but I'm pretty sure he just might be adopted.    The Cat Whisperer named him because he will sit up on his hind legs and bat at things like a boxer does.  
Rocky is a lot like Daddy.  He's very adventurous and will climb up onto (or into) anything.  Past adventures include finding his way into the refrigerator and using his nose to open up the bathroom cabinet.  His most recent Act of Terror (which, by the way, put the parents into Code Red status) was leaping from the kitchen table, using the laptop that Auntie Rachel gave Mama and Daddy as a springboard.  It fell, opened, to the chair, then the floor.  The screen was cracked badly and became inoperable.  In an act of solidarity, we both avoided Mama and Daddy for the rest of the day...just in case they were planning to mail us to China.

Rocky:  Brother, it's almost time for Wet Food...that means we'll have farts that only rival Daddy's in stinkisciousness!
Geary:  It's true. With that, dear readers, we will free you from your required reading.  Enjoy your pets and forgive their trespasses, as they forgive yours when you forget to give them fresh water, or don't give them 15 treats when they clearly meowed for more.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

A Day At The Races

Mom and Shannon may have been a little uneasy about going to the Bridal Show at Spectacular Events with me last night.  But an offer to pay their way in was the best negotiation tactic.  Let's do a quick review of the wedding-related recon I've had to do thus far:

  • The last (free) bridal show I attended had me downing champagne flutes and being quite terse with some of the vendors, who (surprise surprise) were also at last night's event.  
  • The first venue I looked at for my reception was in complete disarray.  And they knew I was coming.  I couldn't even speak to the Events Coordinator for all my anger.  Subsequently, my mom apologized to her last night for my bad behavior when we visited their location.  She said they have since stopped booking weddings at their venue and have contracted with a location close by for their wedding functions.  Squeaky wheel, people.
  • The second time I tried on wedding dresses, I had a meltdown and became mute by the end of the afternoon.  The (invisible, made-up) pressure of having more than one person there observing me (and my potential for back fat) sucked.  All I want is to look shapely.  It's gonna take an army and an Ativan.
Clearly, I have a track record of being calm, cool, and collected.

The first vendor we came across offered some sort of "90 day challenge weight loss by drinking our shake" product.  Allegedly, it tasted like cake.  Clearly she doesn't have the vodka I have at home.  That tastes like cake, milady, and I won't be thinking about your weight loss shake when I'm having Wedding Cake martinis in my double digit wedding dress.  Plus, when I told her I'd already lost 148 pounds and I wasn't really concerned with the last 30, and she couldn't hear me the first time, I had to yell (in my loud, Ford voice) that I had gastric bypass.  And she was pissy when I told her one of the girls looked better in the before picture and she really needed a sandwich in the after picture.  I should have offered to make her a sandwich.  I bet that's why she was so crabby.  But don't think I didn't sign up for their drawing of a VS gift card.  Somehow, I don't believe my name will be drawn...
Oh!  But can we back up a second....because I need to tell you about the PEOPLE who somehow scrounged up the money to get in to the show.  Nearly every bride and groom set looked like they were from Township 3.  One conversation in particular left Shannon and I feeling that our judgement would reign fast and severe over the next few hours:

Bride:  There is going to be a lot of ignorant people here.
Groom:  Aren't you glad I'm not half in the bag?

Oh sweet Wedding Cake.  The stupid people find me.  It cannot be helped if their idiocy is my fodder.  I live off of it and I will never stop pointing it out.  
Back to the vendors.  The Mary Kay rep hates me because I filled out her form but refused the free facial.  I saw my sister-in-law attempt to remove a Mary Kay lady from her house after a free facial.  I've had internet stalkers with less stamina.  I wanted no part of it.  Also?  I'm sure it's not your fault, sketchy tuxedo and overpriced photography place, that your place of business is located next to one of the two fine methadone clinics in the Queen City, but there's no way on God's magnificent Terra that I'm getting my man gear there...I've been junky-free for 30 days (I'm taking a 90-day challenge, you know) and I've just hit my stride. If I see state-funded doped out ne'er-do-wells while I'm trying to talk Beloved out of a camouflage cummerbund, I will have no choice but to go into a blackout-style rage and use all of my sweet Body Combat moves on you.  

Hence, I will be renting whatever I finally decide the boys will be wearing from Henry's.  They have been great.  Even when I went mute.  Even when I told Molly I wanted to try on a mermaid-style dress.  She didn't blink once.  I couldn't hoist myself up on to the display pedestal for all the tightness!  Molly must have started combination therapy for all the time she saw my business end trying to wriggle its way into those dresses.  And I'm gonna do it again today and she'll be right there, treating me like Princess Katherine and not The Bride of Chucky that I am. They had a dress on display last night that was less costly than the reception site (which was way affordable...what up, Black Bear Inn?!) and I'm hoping it will be mine.  We will see today.  AND I got to sample food from my caterer (BBI is so great because they have Montes.  I told Carmen I'd have my wedding in a back alley as long as she was the caterer.)  Oooh!  And Sea Dog had these amazing cream puffs with some sort of fruity cream filling.  AND I won a gift certificate to City Drawers in Belfast.  I can get lingerie (but will mostly likely buy Spanx) and look at all their great jewelry and Tokyomilk products.  Mmmm.  Milky.

The great thing is, we get in for free to the show today with our wristbands from last night.  So cross your fingers and say a prayer for the vendors.  I'm wedding dress shopping today, going to the show to hopefully win some wedding bands (or more door prizes!) and then calling it an afternoon with a family get-together.  Sprinkle in some crying and a glass or three of Reisling, and it will be any other Angie-centered day.