And I'm doing my very best to not upload said pictures. So I'll just mention it every once in awhile because I only have so much self control. Maybe, maybe, a couple weeks before the date I'll upload one awkward angle I took myself so it's not giving away EVERYTHING (and block Mark from seeing it, no worries people).
Maybe. If you guys are good ;P
This packing thing is proving to be really...difficult. Because we're moving down to Gilbert and Ocotillo at the end of the month so I'll live there for awhile and then move in with Mark. And that alone is a huge big stressful mess of entangled complications that I shall not delve into at this moment.
Maybe we'll have a place to live come March.
So many maybe's.
DUDE! I am seriously so legit today, you don't even understand. Here, let me explain;
I woke up at 7, firstly (hush, don't judge me...I'm a 9 o'clock morning kinda girl).
I look positively smashing (houndstooth scarf, ftw).
Fulfilled my best-friend-moral-support duties and attended Allie's errand shopping.
In the process of said duties, I found seriously about 20 yards of this beautiful lacey fabric that's gonna just go swimmingly well with all the reception decor, and 20 clothes hangers (cuz I left all mine in Cali, awesome) at Goodwill for--[drumroll]--FIVE BUCKS. Exactly. It was technically $4.91 but then because I was so ecstatic about being so thrifty and also it's Christmas I donated $0.09 to charity. 5 friggin smackaroons, baby. Half-off Saturdays pretty much make my life. Just sayin'.
And now I'm packing (and blogging, I like to say there's an element of balance to my life).
And then I'm going---OH YEAH! And on the way home I stopped by the bank and finally deposited a check for $150. Why is that so hard to get around to doing, always?
So then later I'm going to go pick up some stamps because my awesome fiancee has no idea how that works apparently, so we can send in all our Black Friday rebates and get mucho moolah back.
PRODUCTIVITY!! SAVE THE UNICORNS!!
Anytime you wanna thank me, cool beans yo.
Current gmail conversation with fiancee;
Me: Sooo...I was super thrifty today.
You should love me.
I'm blogging about it but I assume you don't really read that thing anymore...
Mark: Nope, sorry. Now that I'm in it, I'm sure it's super boring.
I make most things boring :P
Me: Says YOU.
I say you've made my life pretty darn interesting, and fabulous, and awesome, and funny, and worth it, and glorious, and happy.
Plus, I'm not even talking about you, so your comment has no validity.
I'm talking about ME. being awesome. cuz I totally have been today.
So APPRECIATE ME, GOSHDANGIT!!
And then he cyber-laughed because obviously I'm the most charming, hilarious fiance he's ever had (so maybe the competition is a little lacking, I dunno. It's whatever).
I just realized I'm blogging, laying on my stomach, singing non-existent songs under my breath with the door wide open....without any pants on.
[cue 'I'm Sexy and I Know It']
[Unless you've seen the music video]
[In which case, I'm not THAT sexy....I'm not even capable of being THAT sexy]
[If you know what I mean]
[If not, that's ok too. Welcome to my life.]
Holy bracket abuse.
My newfound appreciation and [almost] understanding of fashion has become terribly bittersweet. I was morosing to Allie on this today (don't even fret, I made that word up). The problem is, I now have trouble even allowing myself out of the house in comfy clothes. Comfy meaning sweats and lounge-wear. And that right there, in and of itself. I never woulda used the term 'lounge-wear' before a month or so ago. And it's all Pinterest's fault. If I even attempt to do so, quotes such as "Never leave the house until you would be comfortable running into the love of your life OR your worst enemy" fill my mind and visions of outfits crowd my thoughts (similar to visions of sugar-plum fairies, only the fairies don't make me feel like a sluggish, lazy bumface).
Mark: You wouldn't happen to know Santa well, would you?
Me: EH, we're acquaintances...why?
Mark: You should ask him for a house, like that girl on miracle on 34th street.
Me: Oh goodness.
Uh, problem; I am not young, inspiring and/or cute like unto that little girl in miracle on 34th street sooo that plan is basically SHOT.
I also just realized that it's not sugar-plum fairies that people have visions of, just plain old sugar-plums. IT'S LIKE I DO DRUGS OR SOMETHING. I swear I don't. I hardly even take the good healthy pills, ever. Honestly. It's probably bad.
I've sufficiently blabbed long enough. I should really box up some more stuff.
Now, honestly. Who doesn't love funny screw-ups from an already funny show full of a bunch of screw-ups? Really now...
PS-- that completely unrelated title is just that....completely unrelated. There's just a windchime hanging from my closet door and it's the closest thing I could come to finding a name for this weird post.