Oh, hello friends. I didn’t see you there. I was just sitting here eating chili at 1:47 p.m. watching Sex and the City (why is it that the episode about Miranda’s abortion is ALWAYS on E!) I’m supposed to be calling someone about renter’s insurance but I can’t because it’s not the last minute and I don’t know how to do things at the second-to-last minute. Because of Generation X or journalism majors or whatever something BuzzFeed told me yesterday when it was explaining to me things I like and things I hate.
I hope you all are having fun buying back-to-school clothes or back-to-work alcohol. Since I am still trying hard not to buy any unnecessary clothing I envy you. However yesterday I went to Modell’s to get some new sneakers for my friend Mel’s 5K race she asked me to join her team, the Brainiacs. It’s the Color Run in New York City and she’s raising money to cure AVMs and I donated because an AVM attacked my friend Mel and even though we got to use her handicapped sticker for like 6 months, it was still very uncool of it to do that.
The last run I did was the Mud Run in DC. After the race they asked if anyone wanted to donate their disgusting muddy shoes and since mine were pretty beat up I threw them in the pile with my grody muddy socks as well. I forgot that I still had to cross a large parking lot made of shmoiling hot tar to get to my car though. This meant that I had to hop-hop-hop-rest when I got to a car’s shadow, hop-hop-rest, hop-hop-rest like I was some sort of Hannah Barbera cartoon tip-toeing around. This made me look extremely suspicious to all the normal people walking to their cars who kind of pulled their children closer to them.
We’ve been looking for halls recently for the big W (I usually don’t say the W word – instead refer to it like “I’m worried that at some day in the near future I will be the center of attention and people will actually notice how I really dance!”
We went to a place in Brooklyn last week that was way more religious than I wanted it to be, separate entrances, not even for the ceremony but just to get into the building. The man in charge showed us around while I zoned out because I knew it wasn’t the place for me, even though it was actually beautiful I felt like Anastasia pre-murdered family.
He took us to a closet and pulled out a giant orange fabric that I realized was the Chuppah.
“We DON’T have a white chuppah,” He said.
“Um…Ok,” I answered.
“White chuppahs get dirty, they stain. We only have orange.”
“…sure,” I was wondering if someone had called him telling him I had desperately wanted a white chuppah.
“So if you always wanted a white chuppah. We. Don’t. Have. One.”
“Now, here’s the runner to the chupah. It’s red. We don’t have white.”
I looked around to see if anyone was going to save me from this conversation.
“White ones get stained. They cost money to clean. We have red.”
OMG I would’ve taken no chuppah and no carpet if he would just stop talking to me about colors. Luckily, instead we all went to his back office and he started talking about the food for the W. Including the fact that with separate seating for the day (also not on my wish-list) , men would be getting big Challah rolls while women would get mini-rolls. I asked why and he responded that women don’t eat as much bread.
WELL, I wasn’t going to stand for bread-sexism! We immediately left (after we sampled all the food from the shmorg obviously, I mean we shlepped out to Brooklyn for Pete’s sake.)
Also, I just tried to Google a picture of girl with bread and this is what Google thought I wanted to look at. Not cool Google,
Anyways – off to not do any of the things on my to-do list except maybe nap.