I haven't been blogging much wedding stuff lately because I've been too busy staring at this picture over on FAIL Blog (I know what you're thinking Nick. Enough is enough. It's not that funny). After grabbing my cup of coffee this morning and scrolling through pages of FAIL's to get to my beloved photo, it hit me that I am in desperate need of an intervention.
All of this wedding talk has melted my brain into a smelly puddle of sophomoric ooze.
I find myself gazing way too long at the page-a-day Brevity calendar my mom got for us last Christmas (I think I finally understand it. I don't get the jokes because they really aren't there). The other week I giggled as Nick called me on my cell to give me the play-by-play of an intoxicated homeless man duking it out with a rosebush outside our apartment (the conversation was complete with lines like, "no way, man" and "if I only had a camera right now..."). I even caught myself whispering the name "Brian Peppers" to a co-worker yesterday as I refilled my coffee cup in the lunch room.
I think this has something to do with my denial of actually being an adult. I've been ducking the title since my eighteenth birthday. Not any more. Marriage is a sobering thing. 52 more days. I need to get it all out of my system. Because married adults actually make the bed every day and have more productive things to do than read FAIL Blog, right? No more Saturday morning cartoons. Jeopardy and backgammon all the way.
La fin... man.
(If I start making poop jokes in the next week or two you'll know where they came from.)