cindy's world

I need to make up for the quality of my posts lately which, I admit, have been about as interesting as a strange kid coming up to you and telling you about his current 2nd grade science project, and you don’t like kids, and you flunked Science, and you don’t understand English. So here’s something kinda “wrong” that I did a couple weekends ago. (What, you thought I’d make up for bad writing with GOOD writing? Ptthh.)

Last Sunday when Mr. W and I were at my parents’ having dinner, my mom asked when our appointment for engagement photos were, and she said she wanted to come along. I don’t know why she wanted to be there, but as I’m trying to be charitable to my mother, I said optimistically that if she comes, she could decide whether she likes the way this lady does hair and makeup, and see if she wants to book a hair/makeup appointment with her on the day of our wedding. My entire bridal party is going to. But really I was imagining my mom being a total backseat driver when she’s there. “Can you make her makeup lighter? How do we make this look natural? I don’t think her hair should be that high. Can you block off her face a little bit with hair on the side so her face looks smaller? I think she’s wearing too much eye makeup. Can you do something about her skin? I tell her to eat more fruit so that she wouldn’t have all these pimples but kids these days *sigh* never listen to their parents.” And then during the photo shoot, “I think her arm looks too big like that. Can you make her look thinner? Cindy, don’t lean forward like that, you look so unspirited. I don’t think that’s a good pose. Hey, do the peace sign!”
My mom snapped me out of my daydream grimace by asking whether we need to bring anything, like changes of clothing or my bridal gown. I told her that no, the studio will have everything. And I’m not going to wear the bridal gown until the wedding. She asked, “They’ll have men’s clothes, too?”
“I’m sure they do, cuz they told me all he needs to have with him are black socks.”
“JUST black socks?” my mom said jokingly.
Mr. W joined in. “So I’ll just be naked with black socks on? That might be weird.”
And here’s the wrong part. I said thoughtfully and yet without thinking, “Hmm, that’s true. Maybe you should have three black socks.”
Mr. W laughed. One of my parents laughed, and I don’t remember which one. But because the other one didn’t laugh that much, it hit me that I’ve now directly inferred to, AND produced a mental image of, the penis attached to the man who is doing their daughter.

Wrong!!

Reading a post about anny’s amazing day that must’ve been colored with crapola crayons, I was reminded of something that happened to Mr. W in Vegas after his niece’s wedding on Saturday.

Mr. W, his daughter, and I walked to his car in the parking lot of the hotel where the niece’s reception was held to find that the Jack Skellington antenna ball that he’d had on his car for the past 2 years was gone. Mr. W noticed it first and just about lost his mind. Jack Skellington is his all-time favorite character, and for the next 5 minutes his mouth was ablaze spewing forth hexes and curses of violent car accident deaths for the Nevada delinquents who had the failed social skills and the absolute lack of respect as to steal someone’s antenna ball. He ranted about how he’d had the antenna ball a year before he put it on his car because he was afraid someone would steal it but that it had remained in place for 2 years as his car identifier but one day in Vegas and this expensive irreplaceable collectible is gone forevermore. More wishes of grisly deaths for the perpetrators.
I suppose I wasn’t very supportive when I said, “So to you the proper punishment for stealing a styrofoam antenna ball is death?”
I got an earful about how it’s a rare high-quality, plastic antenna ball and not one of those abundant cheapy styro ones.
So I decided to be more supportive. I offered my and Daughter’s services, promising “We’ll jack up the jackass who jacked your Jack!”
Daughter’s laughter ended Mr. W’s rant.

My bridemaids got to design their own dresses. The finished product will be seen and tried on for the first time about 2 months before the wedding. The other day while surfing the ‘net, I came across a photo of dress that looks a lot like MOH Vicky’s dress design. I emailed the dress to her and thus began this email chain:

[photo of a dress on a headless, limb-less fabric seamstress’s dummy]
Cindy: this is probably waht your dress looks like!
MOH Vicky: Yeah, you’re probably right. Now if only I had the mannequin’s body to go with it…
Cindy: But then how will you hold the bouquet?
MOH Vicky: I will tie a ribbon on it and wear it around my neck like a big necklace. Maybe instead of bouquets we can have leis.
Cindy: ooh, sort of a Hawaiian Japanese Chinese amputee themed wedding.
MOH Vicky: And for sure there won’t be the “I have big arms!” complaint at this wedding!
Cindy: That’s true. Now I just gotta weigh not having big arms vs. having my wedding ring fall off.
MOH Vicky: You can wear your wedding ring on your toe. That would make the diamond look even bigger when it’s on a “smaller finger.”
Cindy: [Mr. W] just suggested I wear the wedding ring in my nose. That’s just ridiculous. What’s WRONG with his head?

I hope that when I’m married and even after we’re married for a loooong time, we’d still be happy to see each other, happy to cook together, happy to sit and watch TV alone, happy to hold hands, and not end up like this:

A man with a gun went into a bank and demanded their money. Once he was given the money, he turned to a customer and asked, “Did you see me rob this bank?”
The man replied, “Yes sir, I did.”
The robber then shot him in the temple, killing him instantly.
He then turned to a couple standing next to him and asked the man, “Did you see me rob this bank?”
The man replied, “No sir, I didn’t, but my wife did.”
~ joke forwarded to me via email by a friend

~ Cindy and Gym Trainee’s Top Picks for Stupidest Bartending Moment This Week ~

There’s always many staggering examples of stupidity to report in each session of bartending that we’ve attended so far, but if I were to list them all, this post would be ridiculously long. So here’s my #1 pick for the week:

At the start of each class, the instructor passes around a sheet of neon-colored self-adhesive address labels. We’re to write our name on a label and stick it on our shirt as a nametag so the instructor knows who he’s looking at. This week, it was bright hot pink.
Toward the middle of class I returned to my desk after doing some pour drills in the bar area, and saw the half-used sheet of neon address labels near my desk. On a white rectangle where a pink label has already been removed, is written “Melissa.” *blink blink* The idiocy hit me fully and dully. “Melissa” had written her name on a white space that no longer contains a hot pink label, and tried to peel it off to stick on herself. I wish so badly that I had a photo of that sheet to post here, because seeing the thing and realizing suddenly what had happened is so much more impactful than my describing it to you!
“Melissa,” by the way, is one of the two unemployed blondie girls who were an hour late to the 1st class, who didn’t buy a day parking pass to put in their cars so the whole class had to wait another half hour for them to get that done so they don’t get towed, and were 20 minutes late returning from break that 1st day. The two girls missed the 2nd week completely, and were again an hour late to this 3rd class.

Gym Trainee’s #1 Pick of the Week:
Our instructor has a rule that if we miss our session that we’re enrolled in (Tuesday evenings), we can make it up by attending the Thursday evening session that week. If we can’t make that, either, we can pop into the Saturday morning or Saturday afternoon session. He teaches the same material in each session each week.
Toward the end of class while he was finishing up his lecture, the instructor said, “I know you’re not obligated to attend more than one session a week to be certified, but the Thursday evening class is only half full. The Thursday class is at the same time as this class, so if you’re not doing anything, you can slide into the Thursday class too, to get some extra practice in for your pouring and mixing. I’m not charging you extra, and it’s to your advantage to come to the Thursday class as well. So who thinks you may want to come in on a Thursday class?”
As a few hands went up, the cop groupie chick asked, “What day’s the class?”
Uh…the Thursday sessions that he teaches on Wednesdays. What did she THINK?!
The cop groupie girl is the same person who did the dumb stuff I mentioned last week, too.

I don’t understand how these people have managed to stay alive this long to be in their 20s. How is it that they didn’t trip one day while walking and chewing gum at the same time, and fall face-first against a moving vehicle?
Gym trainee said to me during break, “I’m glad I’m a girl. So I don’t accidentally date one of them.”

Now I’m having horrible flashes of these girls googling information on bartending or the class, and incidentally landing on my blog and reading this mean-spirited post. The cop groupie chick might sic some of her cop party attendees on me.

This morning, the talk radio show I listen to had comedian Ant (of “Last Comic Standing” fame) on as a special guest, talking about a recent TV-people cruise he’d just been on. He said that he actually went on the cruise stag, because just hours before the cruise, his long-term boyfriend of 3 years dumped him. By text message. So Ant received this text message that said, “I’m not going with you on the cruise.”
Ant texted back, “Why, are you sick?”
He received, “No. I’m dumping you.”
The hosts of the talk radio show were shocked, and asked a bunch of questions. So turned out, Ant’s always been the provider, he paid for everything as well as their home, the boyfriend was a 45 year old (which is like 90 in gay years, Ant joked) who moved back in with his parents. “You should’ve canceled his cell phone so he can’t dump you by text message!” the hostess said.
Ant said, “Oh, I didn’t pay for his phone. His mom did.” !!!
So this jobless loser moocher left a younger celebrity who paid for everything, whom he’d been with for 3 years, by text message for what reason?
“I don’t know,” Ant said. “Once you get a text that someone’s dumping you like that, you kinda don’t want to continue the conversation. It’s a waste of my 400 texts.” Hmm.

Ant also had a funny anecdote from the cruise. He said that Ross(?), the intern from The Tonight Show, was also on the cruise, and one evening at the dinner, there was “unicorn” on the menu. When the waitress came around for orders, Ross said, “I’ll try the unicorn.”
Ant: What’s the unicorn?
Waitress: It’s a fish.
Ross: Oh. Then I’m gonna change my order.
Ant: Wait a minute. You were okay with it when it was a magical horse? And now you want to change it cuz it’s a fish?!
HAHAHAHAHA!!! Made me laugh out loud in my car. “Can I order a pegasus instead?” HAHAHAHAHA!!

Wilco/Flip Flop Girl and Mr. W/I finally traded Wii codes, so we’re now in each others’ Wii address books as “friends.” That means we can send Mii characters to each other. I was the first to send the Miis of Mr. W and myself over to them, which I did this past Saturday night. What else was I to do when the only other person in the house (Mr. W) has a 9pm bedtime? I was so bored that I started exploring the Mii Channel for the first time, and made up 2 additional Miis, Buffy and Spike. I considered doing an Angel Mii, but didn’t want it to become a love triangle mess between the 3 of them again. Haha. I sent the Buffy Mii and Spike Mii over to Mike and Christi as well. The resemblances were such that Mike didn’t even know who they were at first. =P

And then I found that I could write Memos as different Miis to display on the letters screen. They appear like a little rectangular text box with the Mii’s picture on the upper left corner. So Snoopy’s memo said “Arf. Signed, the Red Baron.” Will Smith’s memo said “What up, Big Willy Style’s in da house! Get jiggy wit it, y’all!” And then on Sunday morning, I waited for Mr.W to turn on the Wii and discover that there was new mail.

Well, Mr. W totally freaked out. He stared at the messages and kept saying over and over that the Miis aren’t supposed to do that. I just played dumb. “They’re not? I think it’s cute!”
Frustrated that I wasn’t understanding the gravity of the horror of this situation, he said, “No! They’re not supposd to be INTERACTIVE.” He totally thought someone hacked into his system. And then he got to the memo from my Mii that said, “Being up all by mysmurf isn’t very smurfy.”

And then he hit me. Haha!

I found this Kim Anderson cake topper online and sent the link to Mr. W via IM.

Me: Does this look like us?
it’s 25% off.
Mr. W: When I was 4
me: you had white hair when you were 4?
Mr. W: Blond
me: well then your family would have a hoot.
you had that color hair a couple years ago.
doesn’t that look like me NOW? *nudge *
[A 5-minute silence goes by, I’m wondering whether he’s going to tell me that if I think I look 4, I’m calling him a pedophile.]
Mr. W: Not as beautiful as you are but, some similarities.
me: awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwww!!!!
(what a liar.)

I was IMing with a girl friend of mine last nite about plastic surgery. I said that if I were the plastic surgery type, my most likely procedure would be the tummy tuck. She said she’d get her boobs enlarged. Which reminded me to tell her, “Dude. My boobs shrunk at least 1.5 cup sizes! And I actually can’t bring myself to care.” I personally like that now I can button shirts without things popping open across the chest (altho today I still needed help from a cleverly hidden safety pin) and things that fit my waist now finally fit my chest, too.

My friend wasn’t as thrilled, though. “WHAAAAA, me too!!!!! I don’t know what happened either, like within the last 2 months!”

So my theory: “Maybe it’s eating all the organic foods that’s supposed to be good for you.”
Her: “eff that!”
Me: “Turns out I’m only curvy cuz of the hormones injected in chicken.”

She also said she’d risk the possible paralysis from the botulism virus to smooth out future wrinkles with BoTox.

So our new motto that she came up with: “Vanity does a body good. F–ck milk!”

Anyone want a T-shirt to join the club?

I did nothing all day. And I did a lot of it. So to help you enjoy yourselves as much as I have, here’s a little amusing song that made my mouth agape and then laugh:

“Ooh Girl”: An Honest R&B Song

One morning in Diana’s house, Mr. W and I were lying around before we got up and I asked him what if the missing engagement ring is delivered while we’re up north? He had it set up for delivery to his work address, would it just sit in his mail slot in the open? He said that would not be good. I asked if he should call his office to let them know to look out for it. He didn’t say anything and didn’t call. < -- foreshadowing. I said I wish the ring got delivered a week ago so I could’ve worn it for Jimmy & Sabrina’s wedding. A friend of Diana’s had come up to me after the ceremony and said, “I heard you got engaged! Congratulations!” I saw her glance down at my bare left hand and then look back up to my face. I thanked her, and wondered if she thought we were one of those couples who “don’t believe in rings.” The only guys I’ve heard make that kind of statement were either too cheap or had an ulterior motive to not wear jewelry showing a commitment.

Yesterday, while I was sleeping all day, Mr. W went to work. I got a call from him as he was going home telling me that he has something to give me, something small and shiny. I asked if it was edible. He said no. I said then I wasn’t interested. He said, “Guess what was sitting in my mail when I went to work.” It DID arrive while we were away, and it DID sit in his exposed mail slot since nobody knew what it was! Eeks!! Anyway, I didn’t go over to his house last nite and he’d left the ring there, telling me I’d have to go over today to try it on. I hope it finally fits!