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sillyamerican

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Category Archives: Americana

Week # 3 Nick loooooves to get real American with it.

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Week # 2 Lara and Andy’s wedding on Martha’s Vineyard…. amazing.

Feel very lucky that I got to be there the first time around, but feel even luckier about being a part of their wedding this time around. Was really beautiful to hear them say their vows surrounded by all their family and friends – plus, the party was ridic.

… Or, should I say, parties: this shit was a four day affair on the Vineyard, complete with hay ride, bonfire, burgers on the grill and beers on the beach. The four days was so good, because everyone got to know everyone. When the weekend ended, it was SAD. It felt like leaving summer camp (for really friendly alcoholics).  I need them to get started planning their vow renewal, STAT.

PS. The ceremony aspect of it went relatively smoothly (except when I lost my place in the notecards and had to flip through them 27 times.)  Pro tip: 4 Valiums makes you a superhero.

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Three weeks at home went by very, very fast.

I’ll give you a breakdown, accompanied by pics whenever possible.

Week 1 I was there on my own, as Nick could only come for two weeks. We agreed in advance that I would do wedding things during that week so that he could just relax when he got here. Doesn’t that sound so nice of me? Real talk, it was fab because I got to just do what I was going to do without having to pretend like I was considering Nick’s input on things. (Aside: a few months ago I mentioned to someone I’m doing dahlias as flowers – Nick goes to me, dead serious, “Dahlias? Are you sure? I don’t know.” I’m like…. um, are YOU sure? That THIS is what you want to get into it over? The flowers? Don’t peak too early, my friend.)

So, over the span of three days, my mom and I had a Western Mass bridal extravaganza. Dress, tent, tables, chairs, linens, lighting, catering staff, menu, bar, dance floor, portable toilets, florist, centrepieces, favors, SORTED. I might punch myself in the face later for saying this, but this planning a wedding stuff is a breeze. I mean, all you do is pick the what you like – and then buy the closest thing to it that you can afford. People (I) only care about food, booze and dancing. The rest of it is just bonus material.

meow if you agree

Also, I spent a lot of time lying in the grass in the sun in my backyard which is my #1, all-time favoritest thing to do. How could it not be, look how pretty their yard is!

After we banged out the wedding plans, I took the train down to Philly to visit my niece, Lola. BEHOLD THIS HAIR:

I just…. stop. She’s too cute! Just stop.

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…makes you boring.

Or at least, it makes me boring. Nick and I are like two elderly citizens, eating casseroles and watching CSI, trying to save our dollars in the name of a big ass party. It’s quite hard to find awesome things to share when the most exciting part of my week was when I stayed up late Tuesday night and painted my toenails whilst talking shit with my best friend in NY. I mean, it was for sure fun for ME, I had an absolute ball. I just don’t know if YOU care about that. Karen’s in Spain living the gee dee life by the swimming pool, while I am here dying of loneliness and coldness and THIRST.

But, you know what? It’s all good, because I am going home in precisely 9 days. I can endure nine days of anything if it holds the promise of free pour cocktails and disgustingly hot weather at the end of it. Not lying, the hotter and grossly humid the better, I love that shit. Bring it on. I bought 7 new bikinis and I will be posted up on my parents’ porch drinking whiskey spiked ice tea and staring at trees and squirrels until I pass out doze off and then I’ll wake up and do it again. For THREE WEEKS.

Lara and Andy’s wedding is in there too – so that means nap-drinks in an alternate beach side location, which is also excellent.

I love Martha’s Vineyard. I love the very slow pace of it. I love the little grey houses. I love how they don’t use seatbelts. Lara’s family’s place especially – it’s all sand roads, no shoes, canned beer, bring a book to the beach, swim, take a walk, afternoon nap, burgers on the grill, cards, bit of banter. I honestly just asked myself what could be better, and I seriously can’t answer it. I cannot say that I have experienced anything better than that. Nope, stumped. Yeah, so, wish you could be there, etc.

I was nervous about being Lara and Andy’s celebrant, so I got some Valium.

And now I’m nervous about Valium + alcohol + dance floor. You know?

No seriously, I’m taking my celebrant duties very seriously. I’m dogsitting, so I practice on Jiggs. I get WAY into it, make myself cry and Jiggs is just chilling, lookin at me like this. Which I take to mean that I am engaging, yet authoritative.

See? This is why the engaged me doesn’t post. It’s just devolved into my daydreams and ramblings now really, hasn’t it? Soz (NOT soz).

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… (which my sad little self is deprived of over here) I give you a collection of costumes that would really, really just make my day.

crazy asian

crazy asian

cat terrorist

cat terrorist

def a german

german who doesn't understand Halloween

baby suit

baby suit

every boy I had a crush on in high school

every boy I had a crush on in high school

a big 'mo

a big 'mo

eep!

cute kid

 

cute kid + five/ten years

cute kid + five/ten years

Happy Friday, going to have dinner with Fuller and Mr. Fuller, then a rum and tonic or 12 with my sister. If she has enough, maybe we can dress up one of her kids in an ill-fitting/inappropriate costume, yay!

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Beautiful images from Scott London from Burning Man 2011. Bizarrely enough, I can picture my extended family here – visualising my Uncle Tommy running around dressed as a drumstick and my Aunt Muffie commanding a Mad Max-esque float.

If you like London’s pics, check out his photo essay on the Salton Sea. Interesting text, haunting images.

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I read this very interesting article from a chick who went undercover to The Gathering, the Insane Clown Posse’s annual rape foam party music festival and lived to tell the tale.

It fascinated/disturbed me (translation: I LOVED it)  and so I went on to read this article  from the Village Voice, another view from inside The Gathering.

There are lots of things that amaze me about these peeps…  that this show is allowed to happen year after year,  that females willingly take part in this…but most of all I want to know how all these flabby white kids from the Midwest found each other. I blame MySpace.

For the record, I’m torn. I don’t condone misogyny. But I DO condone this:

sad Leprechaun

I wonder what Australia’s answer to American juggalo culture is. I wonder if there is some thriving subculture of angry suburban outcasts that I don’t know about. If they do exist, I can guarantee they dress better. (Australians are just more stylish, it’s  a true science fact). Going to make it my personal mish to find out. Will let you know.

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