The Dishtowel dilemma

Hopefully Jill (posing on the left - on the right is Steph) isn't upset about the posting of this pic. She just finally saw the pictures of the wedding taken by the disposable cameras at the tables, and happened to notice her boob. I for one did not notice her boob, but i guess when they're your own, it's one of the first things you glance at when wearing a lower cut dress to check that there's no nipple show. Now there is no nipple show, but alas, still alotta boob!

These are the 2 loverly ladies that came early to the wedding to help set up the tables and games for us. And they apparently enjoy their alcohol better than posing for pictures!! During the pictures-between-ceremony-and-reception extravaganza, we were attempting to take pics with all the grooms fam, all the brides fam and then last but certainly not least, pics with all the friends. These pictures turned out really well, and I'm surprised that Bob the photographer was able to get everyone in (especially with the entire guest list pic). But.. right after the friends pic was taken and Bob says "Alright! All the guests are free to drink, and the wedding party needs to take some formal pics upstairs!" i turn to my left, and there's Jill and Steph, sitting at the bar, with blue lagoons. I'm like "What are you guys doing!? You weren't in the friends picture?!" Apparently they didn't realize there was a friends picture, and opted for the alcohol instead. I'll just have to superimpose them in there, since there's a nice space just for them!

So we had a good visit today. While the other ladies had the energy and forethought to make their contributions ahead of time, I apparently was lazy and too concerned with having a heart attack* to make a meal to feed them, so i stopped at Longos instead and purchased the meal. I am honest enough about the laziness to admit that, no, i didn't make the fancy chicken, although i was tempted!

*apparently I'm having anxiety issues. And it's one nasty endless circle of crap, because the more i worry, the more i hurt and the more i hurt, the more i worry. So where does it all end!? But don't worry Mom, I'm fine!!! No need to call 3 times in a row 2 minutes apart each time.

Which reminds me. Titanic. Movie came out when i was in university. So we decided to go see it. Yes, it was a long movie. Yes, we were out of the dorm for a total of 5 hours when you include travel time and eating gross burger king. Yes, living in Sudbury and going to school, i didn't think to call my mom to let her know i was going to be out for a while. So when i returned home, there were several messages on the answering machine. The first one, nice and sweet with no hint of panic. "Hi Pumpkin! Just thought I'd call and say hi and see how you were doing. Love you!" Second message, left 34 minutes later, still with no detectable hint of panic. "Hi Kathryn! Just mom again, wondering where you are. Love you!" Third message, pitch of the voice slightly higher than previous messages, left 28 minutes after second message. "Kathryn it's mom! Call me back!" Forth message, pitch of voice so high that deciphering message getting increasingly difficult, left 16 minutes after the third call. "Kathryn where are you!? Call me!" Fifth message, only dogs and daughters of worrywart mothers can make out the words, left 8 minutes after the forth call "Kathryn! Okay, i know you're probably out, but you need to call me as soon as you get back!! Did you go to your uncle Phil's apartment!? I'm having visions of you stuck in his apartment surrounded with flames! It's on fire and they can't get you out!" Since i had returned home almost 2 whole hours after the last message was left, i knew my Dad had intervened and wouldn't let her call again. While I'm a bit of a worrier myself (No thanks to my mom) I could completely understand how much she was panicking in those few hours, but c'mon. I had talked to her the day before, and i went to the movies. Good thing i didn't have a cell phone, because if i didn't answer that since i would have turned it off during the movie, she probably would have driven 5 hours to search the streets screaming for her daughter.



This is me ma'am! Posing with Bateman, so it's hilarious. Just thought all should see where i get my worry-condition from.




And these i thought were hilarious! Bob the photographer took a pic of me and my sis taking a self portrait of ourselves at the exact same time. Love it!

Okay, picture time is over. Now on to the title of this blog. Yes, there is a very big dishtowel dilemma, which was brought up today over my brunch with the ladies. Now, Rob is very clean. He cleans the kitchen while he cooks, he's very tidy, it's all good. But i guess I'm a bit of a.. germ-a-phobe?! (and I'm guessing this is another trait I've inherited from my mother!) I have a huge problem with the uses of the dishtowel. You use them to dry dishes. Once you've dried a counter with it, you can no longer use it on dishes. And once you've used it on the floor, it gets put for the wash, far far away from any wet dish needing a little dry. Makes perfect sense to me! And when you wash them, do they get put with ANY other type of material? Not one damn chance! But i think this should have all been put down in a neat little contract for the hubby to read, UNDERSTAND, and sign before getting married...

Because one day whilst i was drying dishes, i noticed that one swipe of the dishtowel in the black plastic bowl left hundreds of whitish orange cat hairs neatly swirled on the inside. Had i not been immediately disgusted, i may have even taken a picture because it was quite a cool effect. But already having dried a whole load of white dishes with this said dishtowel and thinking of how much cat hair were on those and now having to pull them all back out of the cupboards and rewash them, was really *not* cool. (Therefore totally overshadowing the previous "coolness" factor of the swirly cat hair design) So i immediately threw the dishtowel to the side, pulled out another one from the drawer, and the exact same thing happened. And then it happened again. And, yes, AGAIN. I pulled out all the dishtowels to inspect them when Rob walks in the kitchen and wonders what the crap I'm doing. I mention to him that all our dishtowels are flipping filthy and he replies "But that's impossible, i just washed them all with a load of towels!" I gasp at the thought that something we use to wipe off body parts (as clean as they may be at that moment) was gallivanting around in the washing machine and dryer with something else i use to wipe something we eat off of. I tell him, as nice as possible, to NEVER wash the dishtowels with towels, because the towels are sometimes on the floor, or laying on the bed, or just generally where the cat sits his dirty ass on. So i *thought* all was well, because never again did i see cat-hair-arama dishtowels.

Until one day, as I'm in the kitchen, i see Rob pass by me with his nicely folded laundry from the basement, and as he walks by, he sets down 4 nicely folded dishtowels that were on the top of the pile. So i enquire. "You washed 4 dishtowels on their own? Usually i wait until i have almost a full load" To which he replied "oh, i just threw them in with my clothes" So yes, now we don't get as *much* cat hair on the dishtowels, but now i have pube hairs on them. And the thought that these dishtowels got a chance to infuse with Rob's work sock smell almost made me vomit. So that day he was officially banned from washing the dishtowels. Although he likes to freak me out every once in a while with saying things like "Oh y'know how the dog puked all over his blankets this morning? I threw them in the wash, and i saw a few dishtowels there so i put them in too" And he wonders why i think I'm having a heart attack.

But the absolute best is when i catch him doing things that he apparently doesn't even realize he's doing. Like after thanksgiving dinner a couple years back when we were washing and drying dishes together. He has the dishtowel, i ask for the dishtowel, he wipes his bare feet with them since he happened to step in a small puddle, and proceeds to hand it to me. He didn't even realize what he did until he saw the horrid expression on my face. He couldn't stop laughing, even while i was attempting to ask through gasps of horror if he does that often.

Ah yes, dishtowels. My love/hate relationship with them needs a tweak. I guess if i was the only one that ever touched them, I'd be okay with it... OOOOO! His and hers dishtowels. PERFECT! But of course, with typical man like qualities of failing to notice the difference between things, they'd probably use the woman's one anyways. Well, either by accident, or with a husband like mine, on purpose to spite me. Like how he threatens to stick his balls in my juice because i don't want him drinking mine.

Alright, off for another day. Tomorrow will be a post about the past! Not too much in the past, just the past as in working at Michaels with TARA!! 'Cause damn, we had so much fun and now that i know she has a blog and i have a blog and we're both stalking each others blog, she'll understand what I'm blogging about!

Ya okay, I'm really tired. That last sentence made me laugh way too much.

The Pork and the Beans

Okay, so it's been how long since my last entry?? Hmm.. not even gonna bother counting. And why did i stop writing? Well, first i got busy with the wedding, then when i finally sat down to talk about the stag and doe and wedding, well, the "remembering of the details" got a little taxing and it annoyed me. So now here we are, 3 months later, with a wedding, Christmas, new years, new puppy and endless little trinkets having gone by and now I'll have to try and remember all THAT instead of just one event. Good stuff! Man I'm smart.



Now I'm not going to try to shove all the hundreds of photos on here, but I'll add in a few i suppose. This is obviously our wedding. The fake eating of the cake shot. As for the wedding, it went as well as could be expected. There were a few snags here and there, but hey, i kinda expected there to be more havoc than what arose, so it was a pleasant surprise that it all worked out. There were a few humorous things that happened, for example Chloe, the not-wearing-any-underwear flower girl decided to try to climb up on the window sill during the ceremony and hiked up her dress to do so. That was all happening behind me, so i wasn't privy to the view!



All in all it was a great night, but i for one was completely exhausted by about 11pm and was ready for bed. My brand new hubby was drunk outta his mind and dancing the night away, so there was no going back to the honeymoon sweet anytime soon. Luckily for me, the room closed at 1am, so we all hadda leave, but there was no sleeping just yet. First, Rob couldn't find his clothes. So he was spotted by several people being led down the hallway by my cousin Ljuba just wearing his underwear. It was so nice the next day to have my uncle Angus who came all the way down from Nova Scotia to say "So Kathryn.. Your new husband. Being led around the halls in his underwear by other women." And it was even better to hear my cousin Blaine the next day say "So Kathryn.. Your new husband. In a bedroom, sitting on a bed, with the door closed, talking to a young girl we all nicknamed "Boobs" while in his underwear. You okay with that?" Well, i knew who "Boobs" was. And there was nothing goin' on! So yes. I actually was! Then we were alone in the room, and all he could think about was how hungry he was. He didn't want the left over pizza from the "starlight buffet" that was all in the next room, so i was looking through all the hotel information for something that would deliver, or atleast if the kitchen was still open for the 3am-hungry guests. Not a chance. We even went downstairs to check with the front desk as to what's open at this time and do they deliver. Ya. It's Grimsby. Nothings open. So atleast Michael (the original Michael who's ass Rob was gonna kick if he f'ed up anymore) gave us change for the vending machine. So atleast we eventually got some food. Chips, gigantic limpy cookies and chocolate bars. Unfortunately we originally had bagels with cream cheese in our room, but ya, did either of us think to close the bag so they wouldn't go rock hard, or put the cream cheese in the fridge? Of course not! Ah well. There was alcohol. That was the most important thing!



Yes, I'm a little out of order with these shots, but it's my blog and i can be unorganized if i want to. I just loved this pic of Michelle doing my makeup, and i wanted to show it off again. And here's 2 more of my fave shots....




In total, that would be the wedding party.

I hafta say though, one thing i absolutely loved was the fact that everyone who had a part in the wedding, was a friend of ours! Our MC and DJ are brothers and old friends (newer friends to Rob, but they get along great) our wedding cake was made by Rob's sister, Rob's mom made the flower girl dresses, the Photographer was a friend of my sisters, the hairdresser was a friend of my friend, my makeup artist is my cousin, it just made the day so much better and intimate i guess. There wasn't a bunch of strangers running around, with the exception of Gonzo's chicken. (our original wedding planner was Karisa, but she was off that night, so it was handed over to a woman who for some reason i thought her name was Camilla. So everyone made fun of me and we called her Gonzos chicken. 'Cause there has to be someone with a nickname at every event.)



And here is our new addition, which we got about the middle of December i think. His name is Kermit, and he's a cross between a Jack Russel and a Boston Terrier. Yeesh, he's alotta work, especially when you've only ever owned cats. But he's so much fun. Here he is in one of his favourite spots. Snuggled up with his Daddy's dirty underwear. Mmm... love it.

And recently we've nicknamed our pets Pork and Beans. Obviously the fat cat would be the pork, and the hyperactive dog would be the beans. But he's the beans for 2 reasons. Not only does he have jumping beans in his pants, he has rotten beans leaking out of his ass. I've never smelled something more rancid than what comes out of that dog. And it's so thick that it just hangs in the air, your futile attempts to fan it away is absolutely no match to 'rancid toots' as it just adheres to all surfaces until you're completely surrounded and gagging in disgust. All the while Beans is across the room sleeping under the chair fully unaware the chaos he's created only a few feet away.

Alright, that'll hafta be enough for today. Gotta go dig the dog outta the laundry and take him for a poop.