Okay, so last weekend, I was hanging out at my parents' house discussing the finer points of wedding favors when their phone rang. I looked at the number and my mom said "It's a telemarketer, don't answer it." Instead of discouraging me, this tidbit of information only piqued my curiosity. I answered the phone and sure enough, "Hi ma'am. I'm calling on behalf of adkgjkhgowpeugt and am wondering if you have a minute to discuss..."
My mom and sister stared at me when I just screamed out "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of my lungs and hung up the phone before the caller could finish his pitch.
They were all "Uh, what was that? Why did you scream?" And I said "Because I like to do and say super weird things when a-holes have the nerve to call me without my permission. It makes it more amusing to be telemarketed (it's a word) instead of simply being the most obnoxious thing in the world."
For example, a couple weeks ago, someone called me to inform me that I had been pre-approved for some credit thing. I screamed "OMG! That's amazing! It's like winning the lottery! FREE MONEY! FREE MONEY! Thank you thank you thank you!" The person started to rain on my parade and then I said "Hey jackwad, I'm not an idiot and you mispronounced 'congratulations.' Take my name off your list and get a real job." Not the harshest thing ever, but it was enough to make myself laugh.
But today, I think I topped myself. Ever since I made the life-ruining mistake of giving my email address and phone number to stupid David's Bridal, I've been getting crazy amounts of spam email and calls. Today, I googled a strange number that was calling me. I found this site of people who had gotten the same scammy calls and emails and they were like "David's Bridal has a disclaimer that they can sell contact information to third parties in the bridal industry." I did some more sleuthing and found an email address to unsubscribe from the avalanche of OTHER emails. I wasn't taking this most recent invasion of privacy lying down. (Laying down? Whatever.)
I drafted and sent the following email:
To Whom it May Concern,
I have recently been the victim of several harassing emails and phone calls that have apparently come from parties associated with David's Bridal. Months ago, in my bridal glow, I naively agreed to allow DB to share my contact information with others. But that, like my engagement, was a mistake. We have called off our wedding, and the ongoing phone calls and emails about wedding and honeymoon offers are too much to take. They are a constant reminder of lost love and my own personal failings, and they feel like a dagger through my heart. Therefore, please take pity on me and take my name, phone number and email addresses off of every single list you have added me to.
I was proud of myself. I feel like the email is being read by some paper-pusher who ends up second guessing their decision to work for such a hurtful and shady organization and quits after launching into a fiery tirade against The Man. Either that or I inadvertently added myself to yet another list.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
No Stops
If there is one thing that my closest friends know about me, it's that I absolutely HATE making multiple stops. I don't want to stop here for pizza, there for gas, over yonder for gum and double-back for craft supplies. I'm a VERY efficient person and the thought of making an extra stop for something extraneous drives me entirely bonkers.
It's not that I don't like running errands. I do. Errands give me purpose. But I only enjoy doing so when it is done in the most efficient way possible. I don't like to waste time by taking round-about routes and running around simply because we haven't sat down to think about the proper way to get everything we need with the fewest amount of stops.
I hate multiple stops for SO MANY REASONS. Parking drives me nuts. Circling around town seems ridiculous. I hate starting and stopping my car. It's downright irresponsible to bop to and fro without a clear PLAN of where you're going. What a waste of time!
So tonight, Claire came back into town, and I jumped at the chance to hang out with her. She's got five days, and I wanted to take full advantage.
But this does not include multiple stops.
(You know that movie where that woman goes insane over wire coat hangers? Me either, but it's a thing. Anyways, that's how I feel about multiple stops. "NO MORE MULTIPLE STOPS!")
I ran to the gym for a half-hearted workout before speedracing over to Claire's. We chatted and then decided on going out for food. It should have been an easy chain of errands, but Claire made the mistake of letting me drive.
We picked up our food before I noticed the needle on my gas gauge falling precariously close to the E side of things. We had to run one more place and I absent-mindedly mentioned to Claire that my gas was low. She was all "Just stop for gas! There's a station like a block away!" and I was all "UGH! Extra stops!" So we proceeded to go to the grocery store and then back to Claire's at the quiet pace of an asthmatic snail in my car. I was desperate to avoid the inevitable "LOW GAS" light because all that meant to me was "EXTRA STOP." As the car crawled into Claire's driveway, she sighed and was like "Good lord. You could have just stopped for gas. It would have taken 5 minutes."
But, see, what Claire and a million other people don't understand is that making extra stops is like caving in to the relentless demands of others. I don't WANT to stop for gas or diet Coke or gold sequins when I don't have plans to do so, so if I have to, it should be on my own time and when it's convenient for me.
After a wonderfully fun time at Claire's house discussing very important things like Snooki's weight loss (GO GIRL!) I drove back to my place at approx 4 miles per hour. It was about 2 days later when I got home and texted Claire that I had gotten home, withOUT my gas light going on. I could smell the pride from miles away. No stops on the way home. Success.
It's not that I don't like running errands. I do. Errands give me purpose. But I only enjoy doing so when it is done in the most efficient way possible. I don't like to waste time by taking round-about routes and running around simply because we haven't sat down to think about the proper way to get everything we need with the fewest amount of stops.
I hate multiple stops for SO MANY REASONS. Parking drives me nuts. Circling around town seems ridiculous. I hate starting and stopping my car. It's downright irresponsible to bop to and fro without a clear PLAN of where you're going. What a waste of time!
So tonight, Claire came back into town, and I jumped at the chance to hang out with her. She's got five days, and I wanted to take full advantage.
But this does not include multiple stops.
(You know that movie where that woman goes insane over wire coat hangers? Me either, but it's a thing. Anyways, that's how I feel about multiple stops. "NO MORE MULTIPLE STOPS!")
I ran to the gym for a half-hearted workout before speedracing over to Claire's. We chatted and then decided on going out for food. It should have been an easy chain of errands, but Claire made the mistake of letting me drive.
We picked up our food before I noticed the needle on my gas gauge falling precariously close to the E side of things. We had to run one more place and I absent-mindedly mentioned to Claire that my gas was low. She was all "Just stop for gas! There's a station like a block away!" and I was all "UGH! Extra stops!" So we proceeded to go to the grocery store and then back to Claire's at the quiet pace of an asthmatic snail in my car. I was desperate to avoid the inevitable "LOW GAS" light because all that meant to me was "EXTRA STOP." As the car crawled into Claire's driveway, she sighed and was like "Good lord. You could have just stopped for gas. It would have taken 5 minutes."
But, see, what Claire and a million other people don't understand is that making extra stops is like caving in to the relentless demands of others. I don't WANT to stop for gas or diet Coke or gold sequins when I don't have plans to do so, so if I have to, it should be on my own time and when it's convenient for me.
After a wonderfully fun time at Claire's house discussing very important things like Snooki's weight loss (GO GIRL!) I drove back to my place at approx 4 miles per hour. It was about 2 days later when I got home and texted Claire that I had gotten home, withOUT my gas light going on. I could smell the pride from miles away. No stops on the way home. Success.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
How To Survive A Wedding Fair...Again
Okay, today I went to The Wedding Fair for the SECOND time since my engagement. People thought I was crazy for going the first time, and those same people thought I was downright masochistic for going again. And for the second time, Kim came with me. We are two crazy peas in a pod. Love it.
So the first time we went to The Wedding Fair, Kim and I did everything wrong. But this time, we did it right and I figure that as a public service, I will tell you guys exactly how to hit up The Wedding Fair, or any ridiculous convention for that matter.
The first time we went, I made us a big fancy brunch, we drank champagne and headed out EARLY. We wanted to hit the fashion shows, after all. We wanted to do it all. Silly rabbits. This was ALL WRONG.
This time around, Kim and I just had coffee beforehand because the free food was where we'd make our $10 back from the cost of the tickets. And we didn't want champagne clouding our judgments. We left coats behind, made sure we packed pens and headed into the Convention Center with clear and direct goals: I needed to find photo booth deals, Kim was interested in photographers.
We couldn't have given two hoots about the fashion shows, and in fact looked forward to those chunks of time when crazy brides would flock into the fashion show rooms so we could plow through the exhibits with ease.
Besides the very first bag you get upon entry, we breezed right by all the other free bags full of crap that we'd just throw away at home. I am still finding Wedding Fair vendor bags tucked behind shelves and underneath my bed. They're like bed bugs.
We also realized that it was important to only register to win things we actually wanted. Otherwise, your hand cramps at crunch time. At a couple places, I shmoozed my way into a potential win, I'm sure of it. I was a hit at the tux stand, and there's no way that dude will ignore my tip to just "keep my entry on the top so it's easier to pick." Wink. I left my pride at home because I just want free stuff. I didn't hide that this time. I didn't feel bad about it. I made it an adorable and very likable quality that people would be fools not to reward.
Even though neither Kim nor I need caterers, we tested all the food without pretending like we were really considering the caterer. "You guys looking for a caterer?" With our mouths full we'd be like "Nope, sorry. Can I get another one of those pineapple meatballs?"
The way to do a bridal fair is to MEAN BUSINESS. No fartin' around trying to polite and wait your turn. You get in, fill out entry forms and get out. You only take brochures for places your are ACTUALLY interested in and not those crap laser-hair removal places. Ugh. Useless. Carnival Cruise Lines? NO THANKS. Handmade monogrammed bags? PASS. Getting free stuff you don't want is not worth the pounds of junk mail and brochures you also don't want.
So yeah. Eat everything. Charm the people who you really actually are interested in working with and save the champagne for the end of the day, when you'll definitely be needing a drink.
So the first time we went to The Wedding Fair, Kim and I did everything wrong. But this time, we did it right and I figure that as a public service, I will tell you guys exactly how to hit up The Wedding Fair, or any ridiculous convention for that matter.
The first time we went, I made us a big fancy brunch, we drank champagne and headed out EARLY. We wanted to hit the fashion shows, after all. We wanted to do it all. Silly rabbits. This was ALL WRONG.
This time around, Kim and I just had coffee beforehand because the free food was where we'd make our $10 back from the cost of the tickets. And we didn't want champagne clouding our judgments. We left coats behind, made sure we packed pens and headed into the Convention Center with clear and direct goals: I needed to find photo booth deals, Kim was interested in photographers.
We couldn't have given two hoots about the fashion shows, and in fact looked forward to those chunks of time when crazy brides would flock into the fashion show rooms so we could plow through the exhibits with ease.
Besides the very first bag you get upon entry, we breezed right by all the other free bags full of crap that we'd just throw away at home. I am still finding Wedding Fair vendor bags tucked behind shelves and underneath my bed. They're like bed bugs.
We also realized that it was important to only register to win things we actually wanted. Otherwise, your hand cramps at crunch time. At a couple places, I shmoozed my way into a potential win, I'm sure of it. I was a hit at the tux stand, and there's no way that dude will ignore my tip to just "keep my entry on the top so it's easier to pick." Wink. I left my pride at home because I just want free stuff. I didn't hide that this time. I didn't feel bad about it. I made it an adorable and very likable quality that people would be fools not to reward.
Even though neither Kim nor I need caterers, we tested all the food without pretending like we were really considering the caterer. "You guys looking for a caterer?" With our mouths full we'd be like "Nope, sorry. Can I get another one of those pineapple meatballs?"
The way to do a bridal fair is to MEAN BUSINESS. No fartin' around trying to polite and wait your turn. You get in, fill out entry forms and get out. You only take brochures for places your are ACTUALLY interested in and not those crap laser-hair removal places. Ugh. Useless. Carnival Cruise Lines? NO THANKS. Handmade monogrammed bags? PASS. Getting free stuff you don't want is not worth the pounds of junk mail and brochures you also don't want.
So yeah. Eat everything. Charm the people who you really actually are interested in working with and save the champagne for the end of the day, when you'll definitely be needing a drink.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Lessons from Downton
After work tonight, I decided to lose myself in TV. I've been exhausted lately and am seriously missing out on making some close relationships with fake people. I started watching Downton Abbey and much to no one's surprise, I've gotten hooked. I've also come to two very important conclusions:
1) I need some butlers and maids. Even though my apartment is like 200 square feet and I have zero secret hallways, I really think I would benefit from having someone dress me, clean up after me and iron my newspapers.
2) I need to get an accent. Preferably English or Scottish, I think. You can say ANYTHING with the proper accent and it will be totally fine. "Please eat this dirty diaper for me, would you, mum?" Sure. "Oh, would you look at that? I seem to have run over your darling kitty cat. I'm ever so sorry." It's cool.
I don't exactly know how to go about getting an accent, but I really do think I need one. I have a pretty crass mouth, and rather than shape up and change what comes out of my mouth, I'd rather just dress it up a little with a more delicate tone of voice. That seems more reasonable, right?
It might also make me sound nicer when I accuse my staff of stealing the last bagel.
1) I need some butlers and maids. Even though my apartment is like 200 square feet and I have zero secret hallways, I really think I would benefit from having someone dress me, clean up after me and iron my newspapers.
2) I need to get an accent. Preferably English or Scottish, I think. You can say ANYTHING with the proper accent and it will be totally fine. "Please eat this dirty diaper for me, would you, mum?" Sure. "Oh, would you look at that? I seem to have run over your darling kitty cat. I'm ever so sorry." It's cool.
I don't exactly know how to go about getting an accent, but I really do think I need one. I have a pretty crass mouth, and rather than shape up and change what comes out of my mouth, I'd rather just dress it up a little with a more delicate tone of voice. That seems more reasonable, right?
It might also make me sound nicer when I accuse my staff of stealing the last bagel.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Claire-ly This Sucks
Well, she's doing it. She's ruining my life and I feel like she hasn't thought this through. Claire is leaving tomorrow for Suck Carolina and she wouldn't even let me cry tonight when we said "see you later." Hater.
I spent a great night with the girl who knew me and loved me as a bowl-cut-having girl. I spilled secrets and shared tales with the one person who has seen me through adolescence and still actually likes me.
I won't lie: I'm pretty sure I'm going to be an absolute mess without Claire. She's my go-to girl. My sounding board. My pal when no one else wants to be my pal. What am I going to do now?
Anyways, even though Claire will be back on Tuesday when we have a Friend Massage scheduled, the fact is that she is leaving and hurting my feelings right meow. Turns out, Claire moving to Suck Carolina is very similar to Claire Leaving For Several Weeks At A Time Before Inevitably Coming Back To Me. And yet? She will be gone on the Tuesday nights I need her most.
Rude.
I'm not sure how this will all pan out. I will either go crazy without Claire or I will end up willing myself not to crazy without Claire. It all remains to be seen.
I spent a great night with the girl who knew me and loved me as a bowl-cut-having girl. I spilled secrets and shared tales with the one person who has seen me through adolescence and still actually likes me.
I won't lie: I'm pretty sure I'm going to be an absolute mess without Claire. She's my go-to girl. My sounding board. My pal when no one else wants to be my pal. What am I going to do now?
Anyways, even though Claire will be back on Tuesday when we have a Friend Massage scheduled, the fact is that she is leaving and hurting my feelings right meow. Turns out, Claire moving to Suck Carolina is very similar to Claire Leaving For Several Weeks At A Time Before Inevitably Coming Back To Me. And yet? She will be gone on the Tuesday nights I need her most.
Rude.
I'm not sure how this will all pan out. I will either go crazy without Claire or I will end up willing myself not to crazy without Claire. It all remains to be seen.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Goals vs. Reality
Okay, so if you're friends with me on Facebook (and you'd BETTER be...) you have likely seen that I have finally gotten around to posting the photos from the engagement photo shoot we did in December! Huzzah! So, okay, I posted them on FB and got loads of kind words and compliments, but I felt like a fraud getting all the praise. Professional makeup jobs and a top-notch photographer can make doody on a hot sidewalk look great. So, in order to keep it real, I just wanted to put what I was really thinking before/after the pics.
The Reality: I don't look demure, I look like I'm just finishing a bagel. Which I very well may have been.
The Reality: Has Geo ever seen my face this close? I am pretty sure my nose is trying to poke Geo's eyes out, which is why he had to close them.
The Reality: Geo looks very charming and natural when he laughs. I, on the other hand am trying very hard to suck in everything and stick my chin out so I don't have a double chin, thereby only enhancing the pointiest chin in the world. Even though I was very conscious of the photographer, I still can't must up the energy to SIT UP STRAIGHT.
The Reality: "Suck it in, Pharon. Suck everything in while also willing your nose and chin to stop being sharp enough to slice through the time continuum."
The Goal: Hmm...how should I smile in this?. I have two options: Laugh maniacally or just try and be cool with the fact that Geo's kissing my face. IN PUBLIC. I'll give my closed-mouth-look one more shot because I feel like this picture won't work because I'm actually looking at the camera and REAAAALLY want to stick my tongue out. What do I do with my hands? What do I do with my hands?
The Reality: Um, hellllloooooo cheekbones! Loved this picture so hard I wanted to marry it. No complaints. Except that I said to Geo "This is my fave!" And he said "Really? I think it looks the least like you!" Probably because my profile features are not threatening to poke anything out on him. Yowza.
I'm not posting these pictures because I want accolades or comments or anything (SERIOUSLY). I'm posting them because I really want people to understand how self-conscious and mistaken I am while I'm taking pictures. I'm wrong 99% of the time and don't understand how I will look. This is why I just want to give extra props to the people who made me look like a normal person. It also made me super stoked to be marrying such a good looking, photogenic dude! Hubba hubba...
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Triple Word Score
It's not very often that I enjoy playing Scrabble. I mean, yes, I went through a very brief Words With Friends phase, but that's only because it's incredibly easy to cheat, and there's no one breathing down your neck while you try and make a word with A-A-A-E-Q-I-P because they've already got something like "RIBOFLAVIN" all lined up. In general though, I actually hate Scrabble. I hate the dumb letter tiles, the awkwardly-designed rack with the stupid curved bottom (or top? I can never figure it out) and the fact that there is a whole dumba$$ dictionary, JUST FOR SCRABBLE words.
I just hate Scrabble.
Now, it's not that I'm not good with words, 'cause I am. I'm good with words. Way good with words. Very good at making words. Making words is very good for me to be good at.
No, it's more to do with my lack of patience and my intense hatred for losing at even the least competitive of board games. As soon as someone whips out the Scrabble board, I either have to check out completely or decide to risk losing a few friends in the span of an hour or two. It ain't purdy.
But then something miraculous happened. This weekend, I played Scrabble all the way to the end without losing any friends. And it also happened to be one of the funnest nights of fun (see that wordplay?!) I've had in awhile.
It all started innocently. Claire and I were looking for something to do this weekend (she leaves on Thursday, which will suck very hard) and we happened upon our neighborhood Chatterbox. Don't know what that is? Well, it's a bar where you go and play super awesome, classic board games (Think: Boggle, Trouble, Trivial Pursuit, Connect 4, etc) or chillax in front of the original Nintendo for a few rounds of Mario. It's just the greatest place.
So, we sit down, order a beer and Claire gets up to go get us a board game. I say "Anything except Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit." She comes back with Scrabble and laughs right in my face. I'll miss this, big time.
I've probably never laughed that hard during a board game in EVER. We had so much fun, except for the fact that Claire is a Scrabble Nazi. At around the third round, she had to request the much-despised Scrabble dictionary. The waitress brings over 6 pieces of a dictionary that are all taped together with packing tape. (This is not the first time a friendly board game turned REAL.) She flips through the 1982 version of the dictionary and triumphantly announces "Pharon, see? It's NOT a real word!" Apparently "qi" is a word in Words With Friends, but not in Scrabble.
Lies.
Every time the waitress came to check on us, Claire was flipping through the dictionary and making me take my tiles back. The waitress was all "Wow, you guys are hardcore." Whatever.
Anyhoozle, I'm pretty sure I lost. By like 3 points. But as we were looking at the board, Claire says "I let you get away with so many words. Zig? Toc? Da? Eg? WTF are those words?"
I said, "Those are real! ZIG zag! Tic TOC! Ta DA?! Eg...okay, I don't know what that one is, but you didn't challenge. Your fault. The other ones are real." She responded with something like "Just because you put another word around it doesn't make it a real word."
But what really matters is that I legitimately had an excellent time playing a game I super hate. Turns out, you just need the right person to play with.
I just hate Scrabble.
Now, it's not that I'm not good with words, 'cause I am. I'm good with words. Way good with words. Very good at making words. Making words is very good for me to be good at.
No, it's more to do with my lack of patience and my intense hatred for losing at even the least competitive of board games. As soon as someone whips out the Scrabble board, I either have to check out completely or decide to risk losing a few friends in the span of an hour or two. It ain't purdy.
But then something miraculous happened. This weekend, I played Scrabble all the way to the end without losing any friends. And it also happened to be one of the funnest nights of fun (see that wordplay?!) I've had in awhile.
It all started innocently. Claire and I were looking for something to do this weekend (she leaves on Thursday, which will suck very hard) and we happened upon our neighborhood Chatterbox. Don't know what that is? Well, it's a bar where you go and play super awesome, classic board games (Think: Boggle, Trouble, Trivial Pursuit, Connect 4, etc) or chillax in front of the original Nintendo for a few rounds of Mario. It's just the greatest place.
So, we sit down, order a beer and Claire gets up to go get us a board game. I say "Anything except Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit." She comes back with Scrabble and laughs right in my face. I'll miss this, big time.
I've probably never laughed that hard during a board game in EVER. We had so much fun, except for the fact that Claire is a Scrabble Nazi. At around the third round, she had to request the much-despised Scrabble dictionary. The waitress brings over 6 pieces of a dictionary that are all taped together with packing tape. (This is not the first time a friendly board game turned REAL.) She flips through the 1982 version of the dictionary and triumphantly announces "Pharon, see? It's NOT a real word!" Apparently "qi" is a word in Words With Friends, but not in Scrabble.
Lies.
Every time the waitress came to check on us, Claire was flipping through the dictionary and making me take my tiles back. The waitress was all "Wow, you guys are hardcore." Whatever.
Anyhoozle, I'm pretty sure I lost. By like 3 points. But as we were looking at the board, Claire says "I let you get away with so many words. Zig? Toc? Da? Eg? WTF are those words?"
I said, "Those are real! ZIG zag! Tic TOC! Ta DA?! Eg...okay, I don't know what that one is, but you didn't challenge. Your fault. The other ones are real." She responded with something like "Just because you put another word around it doesn't make it a real word."
But what really matters is that I legitimately had an excellent time playing a game I super hate. Turns out, you just need the right person to play with.
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