cindy's world

I feel slightly bad for the people who google for photos of steamy wet women in the shower and instead find their way here. Oh well. Enjoy anyway.

Courtesy Vanessa’s camera (rest mouse pointer on photos for captions):

At dinner, Restaurant 162′, Laguna Niguel Ritz Carlton

The waitress thought we were taking too long deciding on a dessert (actually, we were just chatting with the dessert menus open in front of us) so she took the liberty of just ordering the sampler for us. Everything was delicious. We each picked up a tiny spoon, and took a tiny scoop of whatever was in front of us, and then we turned the plate for the next one. Scoop, ROTATE! Scoop, ROTATE! I think Vicky called it out to keep the process orderly.

Lily said that the stripes on the nightie she got were strategically placed so that I don’t have to wear anything under.

The couples massage tutorials part of Vanessa’s present.

(No, not that kind of shower. No pictures of 10 wet girls.)

We had an amazing time at the bridal shower. Food was drop-dead delicious. Spa treatment was to die for. Friends around me made me feel like I DID die and go to heaven. As always, rest mouse pointer over photos for captions.

Lunch at 230 Forest Avenue Restaurant & Bar, patio seating:
From Anny’s camera

Anny’s so petite she makes my arm look huge. *sideglance*

From MOH Vicky’s camera

Dinner at the Ritz Carlton’s Restaurant 162′:

Vicky ordered a bottle of my favorite wine, Caymus Vineyard’s “Conundrum”. It was a hit.

Gee. Can you tell these girls were drinking?

I’d just like to point out that I’m not as red as Vicky is here from the wine. =)

Vanessa’s card said to be careful what you wish for on a blog cuz you just might get it…

Lily got me this swanky slinky strategically-placed alternating striped nightie. Mr. W loves it.

In addition to what’s pictured above, Vanessa’s gift collection included a couples massage how-to kit complete with photograph illustrative cards. Very Mr. W. Anny got me a gorgeous silky white chemise with a matching g-string, and a great black tanktop with bling on the front that says in fancy script “Mrs. [Mr. W’s last name], Est. [wedding date]”. Insanely cute. Vicky got me the entire event and dinner for everyone. I didn’t get my wish of finally getting all my bridal party together, tho…bridesmaid Sandy called me that morning in a panic saying she woke up and her right eye was swollen shut. Turned out when her physician father examined her later on in the morning that she had four spider bites on her eyelid. Eek! She stayed out of the public eye and sat at home icing it and taking antihistamines. Gym Trainee was a no-show to dinner and when I called her she didn’t pick up; turned out she somehow thought dinner was canceled. EH??? Oh well. We all had a blast, though. I think the chemistry at the tables were good, so it all worked out. Diana flew down for lunch and after our massage session at the Ritz, she and I hung out with Lily and Vanessa poolside at the Ritz as Vicky got her pedicure session, and then flew back home to NorCal before dinner. Even tho her visit was short, we all enjoyed her presence, especially the guy at the spa check-out counter, who asked me when I was checking out what Diana did for a living. He was surprised to find she’s not a bodybuilder or Olympic competitor by profession, because “that girl has the most well-toned body I’d ever seen in my LIFE!” he exclaimed. *high-five Diana*

I had a great time. It was classy, low-key, and PRIVATE. Thanks, Vicky! There are more photos on Vanessa‘s camera, if she emails them to me I’ll post them if she doesn’t.

Mr. W and I spent our evening at home assembling our patio furniture, until it got too dark to see. And then we took out his camping lanterns and finished assembling by flourescent lantern-light. We’re excited to see the finished products in the light of day. We expect to do quite a bit of entertaining in our pretty back yard, hence the outdoor dining table that seats 6, and the separate firepit conversation set that seats 4. Ideally, I’d also like a bar out there. But for now I can mix in the kitchen and pass it out through a window or the back sliding door.

Of course you can’t just get guests into the back yard without letting them walk through the house, so we put up as much wall stuff as we could. My giant oil paintings found homes in the living space walls and over the fireplace, his giant maps of Hawaii are the focus of the entire foyer along with his decorative antique-looking suitcases, globes and stone vases, and his framed medieval prints of knights and princesses and gilded gold framed mirror found their niches in the master bedroom. We were too tired to clean up the floors and vacuum, but the place is shaping up to look like a home now. The first guest to see this will be MOH Vicky, who’s gonna pick me up in the morning.

Speaking of morning, it’ll start with an 8:30a appointment at the city’s private Lake so we can take photos for our Lake privilege ID cards. After we get that in order, our visitors can accompany us to the Lake for summer concerts, annual events like July 4 fireworks, sand volleyball, picnics at the clubhouse, boating, swimming, fishing, bbqing.

After our membership appointment, Vicky will come to our new house for the first time, and we’re going to a bridal shower that she, with some assistance from bridesmaid Diana, put together for me at the fabulous Ritz-Carlton, Laguna Niguel. About 10 of my favorite girls are meeting up with us there for a spa day, lunch at trendy 230 Forest Avenue Restaurant and Bar, dinner at the very classy Restaurant 162′ (dinner is Vicky’s treat and gift to all attendees), or any combination thereof. Anny, having recently received her new digital camera, volunteered to be my paparazzi, so we can thank her for documenting photos later. I think there’ll be a walk down to the beach somewhere in there, so I’ll be sure to bring a bikini. =D Screw the fact that I’m getting bloated. This is my bridal shower, goshdarnit. This is also the first time that all three of my bridesmaids will be together at the same place at the same time. Diana has to do a one-day turnaround flight from San Jose, I’m very touched she’d do this for me, and expect nothing less for her and us than a truly classy, fabu-loso time.

And I have no idea what to wear.

But I DO know what I’m gonna wear for our upcoming Halloween party that Mr. W has agreed to let me throw when I uncovered all my Halloween season props and decor while moving.

Life is gonna be amazing.

WHY am I watching We TV’s “Platinum Weddings”? ONE pair of these brides’ earrings already blows my entire wedding budget out the water. Who needs a 7-foot custom cake shaped like Cinderella’s carriage with $4K worth of gold airbrushed on it for $35K?! These grooms say stuff like, “It’s IMPERATIVE that Carlie gets the wedding that she wants” as they send expensive thousand-dollar gifts to their brides every half-hour on the wedding day leading up the wedding moment.

Well, it was on after “Bridezillas,” which I’d told both Mr. W and dentist pal/childhood friend Andy that all men should watch so that they can appreciate me. Mr. W’s response was, “I already appreciate you. I wouldn’t marry you if I didn’t appreciate what a great person you are.” Andy’s response was, “That’s like saying, ‘I’m a small-time petty-theft crook, but look at all these violent mass murderers so that I look better cuz I’m only a small-time petty-theft crook.’ ” Hey. I wonder why I’m marrying Mr. W. =P

I had a coupon for Masala Bowl, and with this PMS thing going on, just the thought of Indian food brought on cravings you wouldn’t believe. So remembering that MOH Vicky had suggested in a comment a few posts ago that we have dinner with James to catch up, I asked James if he ate Indian food. He loves Indian food. Vicky, not so much. Vicky, myself, Grace, and some other people who were all International Club officers in high school were traumatized with our first exposure to Indian food during “Indian culture day,” when someone’s mom made some incredibly nasty stuff that was like mushy chick peas stirred in cold sugary stomach acid with mint leaves. I don’t think Grace ever got over it as up to the point of leaving this planet she would not eat Indian food, Vicky obviously isn’t over it, and the only reason I am is cuz I got into an experimental food phase a couple of years ago and gave Indian food another try with as open a mind as I could pensively spread it. It helped that we went with bridesmaid Sandy and her then-date, who knew what to order at an Indian food restaurant. (Sandy had not attended that International Club event, or it may have ruined her, too.)

So James and I decided that we would do our Indian food tonight as a duo, and we’d meet up with Vicky for a more mainstream dinner tomorrow. But I was *starving*, the cravings were kicking my butt, and James said he didn’t know when his carpool person would be able to leave work today, so it may be a late dinner. Mr. W and I went to eat our usual Indian food spot, Ambala Dhaba in Little India, Artesia instead. I was happily satiated, except it turned out that James and his carpool partner DID leave work on time and I found myself eating a second meal of Indian food 2 hours later. Thank goodness we thought the restaurant was closer than it actually was and had to walk half a mile there and back. I think we’re both still full right NOW.

It was worth it.

Today is my birthday and it started off odd. I’d forgotten to turn my phone back on sound after the dance concert last night, so when I crawled out of bed at 11am, I saw I’d missed 5 calls already. After listening to 5 voice mails, turned out only 2 of them (from MOH Vicky and Busykitty Vanessa) had called to wish me a happy birthday. The other 3 called for random other reasons. I did get a text message from my friend Erin wishing me a happy birthday, though. And then my college best friend Edgar called. I never hear from him anymore and he used to make a point of paging me at midnight to be the first to wish me a happy birthday in years past, so I expected it to be one of those phone calls. Instead, he’d called to ask if it’s okay to bring his RSVP for our wedding to my parents’ house directly since he’d be late mailing it, and we caught up about his recent family vacation. He never mentioned my birthday. Weird.

Around 1:45 p.m. Mr. W’s daughter came by to meet me as we’d agreed upon and we went to the qipao dressmaker’s shop to get her measured for her dress. I’d told her that she’s part of the wedding party as singer for our wedding and that she could wear whatever she wanted, but that my bridesmaids were all wearing traditional Chinese dresses. She eagerly said she’d like to wear one, too. So we went to the shop and she flipped through the fabric sample books. She found a great deep teal colored silk with bamboo leaf embroidery, then decided on a dress design she liked. We had her try on a sample dress in that design and she looked beautiful. She customized it by asking for a shorter skirt and changed some of the trim colors, got measured, and half an hour later we were off. I’m really excited about her dress. It’s Chinese-inspired but not traditional with a deep open V-neck collar with a mesh covering over the V. She wants to wear the dress for a school dance next year. I got a great deal, too; since this is my sixth dress order from this seamstress, she gave it to me for $80 under current pricing. I think I like Daughter’s dress most out of all the dresses that I’ve ordered. I probably couldn’t pull off a cut like that myself, tho.

After the dress shop we had a quick meal at Downtown Disney. She needed to get a replacement Jack Skellington antenna ball for her dad for a belated Father’s Day present. Unlike Mr. W’s rant claimed, these suckers are not collector’s items, are not $25 each, are not out of circulation. There was a giant tub of them for $4 each. We laughed about how we ought to tell Mr. W that it was impossible to find and that we had to beg the Disney Store manager to open the vault to release this rare collectable antenna topper for us and that when he did, it cost an arm and a leg to purchase. And she did tell him that story, right before breaking the news to Mr. W that his precious antenna ball isn’t valuable to anyone else but him. He was nevertheless happy as he nervously installed this new Jack onto his car antenna, and I had a great one-on-one time with Daughter, as always.

We had reservations for a joint birthday dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. Mr. W’s son turned 19 on Friday, and of course I turn 32 today. I hadn’t had fine dining like that in years, Mr. W never used to appreciate fine dining because he’d just considered it rip-off overpriced food for stupid rich people, and the kids had never even heard of this restaurant. It was a really fun dinner. Both kids participated in the dinner conversation, we laughed a lot, made fun of the rich people around us (a large table behind us caught our attention as they sang “happy birthday”, and we turned to see that they were celebrating a 2 year old’s birthday. Son and Daughter cracked up and said how sad it was that the kid probably *really* wants to have her birthday at Chuck E. Cheese but was forced to sit here and gnaw on $60 steak instead.), had a great delicious dinner where both kids ordered their steaks medium and said it was the best filet mignon they’ve ever had in their lives despite never wanting to eat “bloody meat” before. Mr. W declared the dinner a great success and said he hadn’t had such long conversations with his kids in a long time. Hope this is a predecessor of great things to come.

Saturday morning, Mr. W and I met up with our realtor at his office to sign loan papers for our new house. Interest rates are stupidly high right now. The immediate financial future of this country isn’t looking so good, what with expenses increasing as soaring gas prices push the cost of everything up, and the short-sighted government writing bills to bail out people in the housing crisis while propelling us into dollar-inflation and recession. “Oh no, we’re sinking! Let’s dig faster!” It was a scary session with the realtor. I hope our current homes lease out immediately to good renters.

Saturday evening was better. Mr. W and I met up with Gym Trainee at a TGI Friday’s bar to kill a bit of time before her son’s dance concert across the street. The three of us wolfed down our cold drinks (white zinfandel for her, dirty gin martini for Mr. W, Triple Purple Hooters for me) then walked across the street. Altho I thought most performers at the concert were unspirited and uninspired dancers who were barely able to stay on beat so forget about being in sync with each other, Gym Trainee’s son had impressive rhythm. He did this one move where he did a spin in mid-air and lands in a semi-split. He takes after his god-mama. Ahem. Since my godson was jealous when he found out the three adults met at Friday’s before his performance and he’d never been there before, the four of us returned to Friday’s after the concert for dinner. I hadn’t been to a TGI Friday’s in years since the ex and his crew used to hang out there (but not at this particular branch), and walking in this evening I saw my favorite bartender from the other branch. When he worked at the other branch, I used to walk in, sit at the bar and tell him, “I feel like something fruity. Surprise me.” And he introduced me to many many creative drinks that have become some of my favorites. I remember back years ago, he was practicing throwing bottles doing a few Flair Techniques tricks, and he’d drop them a lot. Now, his Flair was down! A metal shaker would flip in the air as ice cubes flew over his shoulders to land in the shaker, and meanwhile a bottle is spinning its way to pour liquor in the shaker at an angle that seems to defy gravity when it happens. Really cool stuff. I’m gonna have to hang out there just to watch him. We got to chat a bit and catch up. When I told him I’m engaged, he gave me a high-five. That’s the first time I’d gotten that kind of reaction. Haha.

After dinner I returned to Mr. W’s house with him, and he handed me a red giftbag. “I told you not to get me anything, and that I just wanted you to save money for my birthday!” I protested.
“It’s small,” he promised.
I pulled out a card that was full of happy anticipation of our future together. Then as I dug around the tissue, I noted, “I smell food.”
“You do? How do you smell food?”
“I just do. I smell dough and sugar. And chocolate.”
“That’s impossible.”
I dug around the tissue some more, trying to find the opening between all its folds, and pulled out a GIANT chocolate chip cookie. “Ah-ha! I knew I smelled dough and sugar and chocolate!” He laughed at me. I dug around some more and pulled out…The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands in paperback by Dr. Laura Schlessinger. Now I laughed. I suppose he got me back for getting him, as part of his Christmas gift, How Not to Ruin the Most Important Day of HER Life, a wedding planning guide for grooms. He beat me in the romance department, however, because he wrote an inscription on an inside page that he’d purchased the book because it has the word “husband” on the cover and wanted me to get used to the concept. Cute! I loved that he bought something that is designed to make our marriage lasting and enjoyable, and I appreciate always his willingness to try new things to improve “us”. However, after reading a few chapters, I started feeling uncomfortable and confused. The book basically makes me feel like crap for having personal accomplishments and independence because Dr. Laura apparently doesn’t think “normal” women are “whole” without a husband and children, and that independent women are actually short-changed by the feminist movement to THINK we’re happy and thriving when in fact we’re fooling ourselves while being bitches. Seriously! I linked a review to the book title where the reviewer apparently feels just like I did. Nevertheless, I’ll finish the book because even if I disagree with the perspective and context, I may nevertheless glean a thing or two I can add to my relationship perspective. Sometimes the salad bar sucks but a cucumber slice here and a cherry tomato there could still be delicious in my regular dinner.

Friday nite, my mom was feeling salty about how none of her family treated her to a birthday dinner, so I went to my parents’ house to take them out. I was supposed to treat her with Mr. W the weekend before, but my dad grabbed the bill and paid it with a credit card. My mom said that means she was paying for the meal since she pays the household bills. Then she went out with her mom for a birthday dinner during the week and somehow ended up paying for that, too. My mom said that since she paid for her own meals during her birthday, now that it was my birthday, I should treat everyone, too, as a new tradition. I agreed just cuz that makes life easier for now. She also pointed out that my birthday should be spent celebrating her, anyway, since she’s the one who went through the difficulty of pregnancy and labor so that I could be here. We went to a nearby Thai restaurant and waited forever for the check after we were done eating. My mom finally prompted my dad to go up to the counter and get the check, so he did. I’m sitting there chatting with her, and then saw over her shoulder that my dad was pulling out his wallet. So here was me:
*looking at my dad’s back* “Whoa, what’s he –”
*watching him pull out his wallet*
*my eyes widen*
*the whole guilt trip from my mom about not paying for dinner and imminent future guilt trips flash before my eyes*
*leaping up out of my seat in desperation*
*running to the counter, hurdling over chairs and tables and people*
“Dad, I got it! Go sit down! I’M paying for this!”
My dad says, “No, it’s YOUR BIRTHDAY.”
“It’s a new rule that we’re doing. I’m paying. Mom will yell at me if I don’t pay and I’m not going through that again.”
My dad looks at me thoughtfully. Then he says cheerfully, “Okay! Thanks!” and goes to sit down.

After dinner I took them to nearby Cherry On Top froyo, their first time experiencing the new make-your-own-froyo craze. I had a buy one, get one 10 oz free coupon that Cherry On Top emailed me, so I got both their yogurts for just $7. My mom and dad went nuts! 14 oz yogurts with toppings galore. I was impressed with their appetites until I realized as we left with their colossal desserts that they’d misunderstood how the cost is calculated. They thought it’s the same price no matter how they pack in the food, and were surprised when they saw that cost was calculated by weight. They probably worked at their yogurts all weekend long.

For my birthday, my mom passed down a beautiful heirloom gold peacock necklace that her mother had given her for her wedding.

A lot of special days occur in June. The first was my godson (unofficial; his mom merely appointed me and Mr. W), Gym Trainee’s son’s graduation from his private school. He was salutatorian in his elementary school graduating class. Smarty-pants. Takes after his god-mom. (Yeah right. I was a mediocre student at best.) He graduated on a weekday, so I mailed him a card with a $50 giftcard to Target. Only days later was his birthday, which I missed cuz we were in Vegas. He’s 11 now! He’s gonna be in a kids’ production of the musical “Hairspray” at the end of the month which I said I wouldn’t miss even if he were just a rock in the background, and he wants to celebrate my 32nd (*retch*) birthday with me that weekend. That should be fun.

The weekend we were in Vegas, we attended Mr. W’s niece’s wedding, which I’ve already blogged about with photos. That Sunday was also Father’s Day. We did an early Father’s Day brunch with Mr. W’s family and his dad, then we left for home. My mom had been complaining that my dad wasn’t scraping the algae off his fishtank glass since he claimed to be saving it for algae eater fish, so I thought it would be a brilliant idea to buy him a big scavenger fish. When we brought it over to my parents’ house, turned out my dad already got one. Oh well, now they have two. There was something odd about giving him fish for his hobby aquarium and eating salmon fish for lunch while admiring his living fish. I felt strangely hypocritical.

Yesterday, Mr. W’s best friend (ex bro-in-law) threw a big Sunday champagne brunch party for his younger son for graduating high school. It was at Newport Landing Restaurant. To get there, we took a ferry from the Balboa Peninsula. I drank more than my fair share of champagne cuz apparently the key to great service is the wait staff looking over your shoulder and refilling your champagne each time you take a sip. That Asian don’t-waste-food training didn’t help. I’d just started eating when Mr. W suddenly babbled all excitedly, “Your cousin! Your cousin! Say hi to your cousin! Your cousin!” and then he ran out the door. I followed and saw the back of my cousin Diana with her new fiance, Doug. I took a flying leap and pounced on Diana’s back and almost gave her a heart attack. Oops. I guess you’re only excited to see someone if you actually see that someone. My cousin Jennifer saw me from the side as I was attacking her sister and called my name, so we did the slow-motion running with our hands outstretch to each other. No heart attacks there. A big group of them had kayaked over from the Peninsula and went to the upstairs portion of our same restaurant to have some beer. I caught them on their way out, and they looked a little upset. Turned out the restaurant told them that because they’re not ordering brunch, they need to leave and give up their table for people who were going to order the brunch buffet. They said they had a couple of beers each and had ordered oysters, but the restaurant still insisted. So they left, and their male cousin (no relation to me) stayed inside to complain to management. No resolution except an apology. I was offended for them; I was asked to leave a restaurant once when I was hanging out eating Korean tofu in Tustin with Vanessa, her friend Lisa and Mr. W, and they said that we need to give up our table for others waiting. We were paying customers, and WE had to wait for a table, too! I was so offended I never went back.

Sunday was also my mom’s birthday, but we celebrated her birthday on Saturday at The Curry House in Rowland Heights, so I just called her and sung “happy birthday” to her on her voice mail. She called me back and said, “Thank you for your present.”
I said, “Huh? I didn’t get you anything.” I’d spent $200 on her and my grandma for mother’s day, so I was pretty out of dough, especially considering my huge looming expenses. I was supposed to treat her to Curry House, but my dad insisted on paying instead. So I ended up not doing anything.
My mom said, “Well, your song was your present, right?” and sighed.
I knew she was hinting, so I said, “What do you want for your birthday?”
She said, “You know what I want. You just choose to forget it.”
I searched my brain. And then she continued, “Forget it, Mrs. Yang bought me a pair of fake Chanel sunglasses already.” That’s right, she’d wanted designer sunglasses. But she’d wanted that for Christmas and then had kept holding it off whenever I asked when she wanted to go look for them, and I’m sure she’d even told me to not worry about it several times. It’s not like I wear anything designer anyway, so I especially can’t just go buy something without her being there and trying them on.
Mom: still practicing the guilt trips.

Good gawd, I just realized that in 6 days, it’ll be MY aging day. Gack. Mr. W’s son’s 19th birthday is 2 days before mine, so we’re gonna do a joint dinner at Ruth’s Chris steakhouse on Sunday. I’m not sure that in my old age, I can burn off those butter-seared filet mignon calories. Maybe I should’ve gone to the gym today.

I took Friday off to go to an 8am dental appointment with childhood pal Dentist Andy. I booked that appointment with him because I wanted to drive to Vegas with Mr. W early on Friday to attend his niece’s wedding on Saturday, and this way I wouldn’t be lying when I told my supervisors, “I need Friday off, I have a dentist appointment. See my appointment card.” *tapping temple* A good visit to the dentist is one where after he’s done drilling and working on your teeth for 2 hours, he gives you a big warm bearhug and says, “Bye, Cindy, I’ll see you at your wedding! Drive carefully.” Aww. Speaking of Dentist Andy, here’s a photo from his own wedding in Corona Del Mar that Mr. W and I attended May 31, 2008.
This is Andy dancing with his mommy during the mother-son dance.

This is Andy’s sister, Bridesmaid Sandy and her date. Her date deliberately did the sardonic expression cuz I wouldn’t wait for him to finish chewing before I took this picture.
Yes, that’s right, it’s Sandy and Andy. It used to be funny when we were in high school to call and have this conversation:
“Hello?”
“Hello, izzandy there?”
“What? Andy?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Izzandy there?”
(Say “Is Sandy there?” and “Is Andy there?” out loud if you don’t get it.)

Friday after my appointment, Mr. W, his daughter, and I drove to Vegas. That night the groom’s parents had a barbecue in honor of the upcoming nuptials, which we attended. They were a different sort of people. When we went into the backyard, we immediately smelled something skunky, which I thought was weed but Mr. W and Daughter thought it was something else, like a stinky cigar. My sinuses immediately closed up. A shaved-head guy with a bunch of piercings on his face along with some rather unconservative looking women were drinking away, and wasted no time in getting drunk and high. And everybody in Vegas, apparently, smokes. The only beverages available in iced coolers in the yard were Bud Light and Mountain Dew, which we didn’t drink. Daughter and I looked at our surroundings, tried to breathe as little as possible, shrunk back away from giant fluttering mosquitos, chewed our cold hamburgers which had no ketchup cuz they ran out immediately, and mentioned how we expected to see cockroaches run by our feet at any moment. We managed to get through the whole night without seeing cockroaches until on our way to the car, a giant shiny beetle-sized cockroach crossed our paths on the sidewalk in front of the house. Daughter and I froze and I pointed at it exclaiming “OH my gawd!” and Daughter shrieked and hopped over the insect to the car, yanking on its locked handles. It was pretty funny, tho. Saturday evening was the wedding.
What? Whose silhouettes are those?

Oh, it’s Cindy and Mr. W’s daughter. Who complained she looked too tall in this picture while I complained about looking too short. =P I used to call her my little sister because of the 14-year age difference; this weekend she called me her little sister because of the height difference.

Here comes the bride…

And here’s the groom gazing upon his imminent wife with adoration.

At the reception now! Here’s me with Mr. W’s daughter.

Bride and groom’s first dance. I didn’t know the song they danced to, but I did note that they sang to each other.

The father-daughter dance. They chose “Butterfly Kisses” for the father-daughter dance song, and Mr. W was just weeping away like his dog was eaten alive by a coyote.

And then we all got down…

From left to right up there, it’s Mr. W’s gamer bro and his wife (parents of the bride), me, Mr. W, bride/niece, groom.
Mr. W and I were doing the west coast swing that was so easy for us that we could do it with our eyes closed. Just kidding, Mr. W and I were actually challenged to do the west coast swing with our eyes closed. You see Mr. W’s rocker brother (shaved head) cheering us on to the right.

This is kind of a family photo at the end of the night. I don’t know who the guy on the bottom is, but I think he developed a crush for Daughter cuz of how well she sang at the reception (they had a karaoke reception) cuz he followed her around like a puppy dog all night and wanted tons of photos with her. She was nice enough to accomodate. He just sorta jumped in our photo here so Daughter and I were like, “Uh, okay then.”

As much as the above is a silly goofy picture (at least for us youngins), we had even crazier ones on the disposable cameras they placed at every table. At the end of the evening, Gamer Bro, Daughter and I were collecting the disposables off the tables and found that a lot of them still had film left, so we ran round ilke crazed fools taking photos of everything, of ourselves, of ourselves in stupid poses and expressions, of each other in compromising positions, of each other taking photos of each other, etc. It was so funny. I can’t wait till they’re developed and the bride and groom are like, “What the –? And WHY are there so many photos of them?!” Hee hee! Eh, well, they’re nice people who will appreciate a little humor. Such as seeing on their guest book sign-ins that Tom Welling (“Clark Kent” on the TV series Smallville, a bride’s favorite), Jackie Chan (another bride’s favorite) AND Joe Montana (a groom’s favorite) were apparently at their wedding. Hee hee!

Vanessa emailed this picture to me from Vanessa night this past weekend. It’s Vanessa, me, and Mr. W at Tapas Restaurant.

Speaking of the weekend, I can’t believe I forgot to mention in the post that on Monday, Mr. W got even more acquainted with his Asian side by going in for his first acupuncture treatment. We must’ve gone to 4, 5 Asian sundries stores trying to find those wooden beaded car seat covers as he’d hoped that the acupressure massaging action would relieve his sciatica pain. No one carried the item anymore. I called my mom asking if we had any covers at home, and mom said she’d just days before thown theirs away. Apparently those seat covers are too fobby even for my parents. My mom then recommended her acupuncturist, who she says not only miraculously cured her sciatica pain in just 1 session, but also cured that of many of her coworkers.

I have to say it was pretty gross to see 30 needles sticking way out of Mr. W’s nekkid back, butt and legs. *heebie jeebies* He’s got a second treatment appointment tomorrow at the same time I have a makeup appointment to do a meet-and-greet with my wedding makeup/hair people.