It really was just about perfect, though. I may even officiate another one of these shindigs one day, especially if there are kilts and twinkle lights involved.
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Monday, October 17, 2011
Some Enchanted Evening...
Not everything went right. Nobody remembered ice..or tongs. I chose the wrong shoes (ow), came perilously close to what could have been a nasty car accident, had a middle-of-the-night fight with an air conditioner because for the first time in my life I was too hot. We panicked a few minutes because we weren't sure the best man's shirt was really where it ended up being. At the reception while having a conversation with somebody's grandmother, I chose words poorly and while attempting to tell a very sweet and sincere story managed to make myself sound like a raging tramp instead...and made the groom's father hyperventilate and choke on cake in the process.
It really was just about perfect, though. I may even officiate another one of these shindigs one day, especially if there are kilts and twinkle lights involved.
It really was just about perfect, though. I may even officiate another one of these shindigs one day, especially if there are kilts and twinkle lights involved.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Zombie Apocalypse Preparation Day
The Shreveport Zombie Walk was on Saturday. I got dressed for the occasion as a zombie hunter since the league had been invited to come be "Zombie Crowd Control" on skates for the event. I figured that you need somebody with a gun to keep zombies in line, right? Well, that, and I hate fake blood.
My outfit consisted of: A black T-shirt, cut up a bit over a red tank top, a black "dance" skirt (short), black shorts (short), and fishnets over dance tights, with a bit of dramatic eye makeup and teal blue "war paint" lines under my eyes. I finished it off with my belt buckle made of .30-06 shells, a toy rifle, and my awesome STOMPEH! Doc Martens, and headed out the door. I tossed my gear in my car and decided to move the gas can that I'd left on the front walk back to the carport it should live in.
I live in the country. It's very "in the sticks" (no highspeed internet OR pizza delivery), and for the most part I'm surrounded by older people and a few young families. We have a neighborhood but everybody is spread out a bit, with their homes on 2-4 acre lots. In my section, neither neighbor on either side has a fence, so we've got a pretty big sprawl of pawn between us... and as I walked over to deposit my big red gas can (and get gas all over my hands because I can't do anything without making a mess) I noticed a trio of 2 men and a woman walking in my general direction, coming across the neighbor's yard. They were still there when I went back around, so I walked towards them and offered a "Can I help ya'll?" One of the gentlemen stepped forward and explained that he was a realtor showing the property across the street, and his clients wanted to look around the neighborhood and get a feel for things. I cheerfully told them that it was a great neighborhood that was really quiet and full of great people, and headed back to my car. As far as I can tell, those folks vaporized on the spot- I didn't even see them as I left, tears rolling down my cheeks and smearing my war paint because they probably got the impression that the neighborhood houses backwood militants who do their yardwork in fishnets and warpaint. I got myself under control quickly, but then my dad called me to let me know that I needed to turn around, because he just realized that I'd forgotten my pants (britches, actually)... and I had to pull over to get my giggles under control.
Just for fun- here's a picture of me with Jesus.
And...
My outfit consisted of: A black T-shirt, cut up a bit over a red tank top, a black "dance" skirt (short), black shorts (short), and fishnets over dance tights, with a bit of dramatic eye makeup and teal blue "war paint" lines under my eyes. I finished it off with my belt buckle made of .30-06 shells, a toy rifle, and my awesome STOMPEH! Doc Martens, and headed out the door. I tossed my gear in my car and decided to move the gas can that I'd left on the front walk back to the carport it should live in.
I live in the country. It's very "in the sticks" (no highspeed internet OR pizza delivery), and for the most part I'm surrounded by older people and a few young families. We have a neighborhood but everybody is spread out a bit, with their homes on 2-4 acre lots. In my section, neither neighbor on either side has a fence, so we've got a pretty big sprawl of pawn between us... and as I walked over to deposit my big red gas can (and get gas all over my hands because I can't do anything without making a mess) I noticed a trio of 2 men and a woman walking in my general direction, coming across the neighbor's yard. They were still there when I went back around, so I walked towards them and offered a "Can I help ya'll?" One of the gentlemen stepped forward and explained that he was a realtor showing the property across the street, and his clients wanted to look around the neighborhood and get a feel for things. I cheerfully told them that it was a great neighborhood that was really quiet and full of great people, and headed back to my car. As far as I can tell, those folks vaporized on the spot- I didn't even see them as I left, tears rolling down my cheeks and smearing my war paint because they probably got the impression that the neighborhood houses backwood militants who do their yardwork in fishnets and warpaint. I got myself under control quickly, but then my dad called me to let me know that I needed to turn around, because he just realized that I'd forgotten my pants (britches, actually)... and I had to pull over to get my giggles under control.
Just for fun- here's a picture of me with Jesus.
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| My shirt read "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers" until I corrected it with a Sharpie to say "zombies." The creation of that shirt was a comedy of errors, but I didn't burn my house down in the process, so I called it a victory. |
And...
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| Found him! |
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