Choice of Footwear? Priceless

Saturday night was my bachelorette party, organized by Eva and Baby Sis. Omar's sister and my bridesmaid bailed at the last second and one of my bridesmaids only stayed for one bar. So it was me, Eva, Baby Sis, Eva's friend Mel, and two friends from college who went the whole night.

Let me be accurate. Most of them went the whole night. I was hammered by ten and escorted back to the hotel by twelve-forty-five.

We had dinner at that tacky of tacky tourist restaurants Cheers, or Fake Cheers as I call it because the tv show Cheers has nothing to do with that place except trying to capitalize off its name. Then we moved on to the Purple Shamrock. Then it was the Hong Kong, then Trinity, then back to the hotel.

At the Shamrock, we ran into a bachelor party with two drunk guys and an exasperated groom. The groom was introduced to me about three times, because my friends had made me wear this ridiculous tiara that said "bachelorette" plus Mardi Gras beads, plus a flowered lei. Somewhere between the walk from the hotel and the restaurant I lost the penis straw I was supposed to drink with all night (thank god). So we drank there for a little while and I'm starting to feel happy and buzzed when some guy puts a shot in my hand and I down it.

Let me be clear. I'm not good with shots. At one time, in my much less sober youth, I was a champ. Omar was horrified the first time he ever witnessed me do six lemon drop shots in less than ten minutes. Horrified and secretly proud because he had a girl who could drink most of his roommates under the table. Then I became, what's the phrase, oh yes: responsible adult. And I quit drinking like every night was Thursday night in college. (Isn't it odd how Thursday's were always the big booze night?) So I don't handle shots as well. And I NEVER drink jagermeister, which is what the shot contained. I almost barfed right then and there.

Anyway, it was all downhill from there. I kept drinking booze and drinking booze and drinking booze. Every bachelorette party I ran into, and there were quite a few, I told them, "I'm marrying Omar! He's the greatest! I hope your wedding is fun like mine and that you have an Omar too!"

I don't remember changing from my high heeled sandals to my sister's flip flops, but apparently we switched when I couldn't make it down the steps at Trinity. I complained of dizziness and announced I wanted to go home. Baby Sis drunk dialed a friend in Illinois, and I then took the phone from her and proceeded to talk to this person whom I've never in my life met before until the cab stopped. At which point, I'm told because I don't remember it, I went face first into the sidewalk when I got out of the cab.

Then I went up to the hotel room, threw up once in the bathroom, went to sleep, got up, attempted to throw up in the trash can and instead threw up all over the hotel rug, and then went into the bathroom to finish. Baby Sis called the one sober girl up to sit with me and then she called the front desk to have someone come and vaccuum the vomit up from the rug. So I'm told. I then passed out for about six hours, got up, had a little more stomach difficulty, and then slept for another couple hours before my ride back to Boston roused me from slumber.

I spent Sunday sleeping on and off on my couch and switching between the Sox game, the Food Network (ooh, bad idea, let me tell you), and Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, which is hilarious. But it made me crave mini hamburgers, which I couldn't eat even if I could find them because saltines were barely tolerable.

I also apparently hit my head at some point during the whole thing, because I have a bruise on the left side of my forehead that really effing hurts.

Baby Sis took pictures. I'll post as soon as she sends.

In the meantime, Alcohol is evil and I'm getting married in less than ten days. Yee ha!

Dear JJ Abrams Part Trois

Dear JJ Abrams,

I realize that you actually have nothing creatively to do with Alias any more. Yet, I feel like if you did, you would listen to me because I think we have a connection. It's like Dennis Hopper said in Speed, "I think we have trust."

JJ, I trusted you this season. You have let me down. You brought in the Blonde of the Insipid Expression and Not Vaughn. You got rid of Weiss and, holy hell, you got rid of Vaughn for more than half the season. You got rid of Vaughn. I don't know how to say this any more clearly: that was a mistake. And now that we know that Sydney knew Vaughn wasn't really dead the excuse that Vaughn's death jumpstarted Sydney's quest for season five sounds like a load of crap. It's like the Lauren thing. You said at the start of season three that Lauren would not be evil. She would sympathetic. We would like her. Then the fans turned on you (and boy did we ever turn on you. Lauren sucked even worse than Nadia) so you had to make her evil. You listened to your constituency, but you caved. I would have liked it better if you hadn't caved. Think of the emotional ramifications if she hadn't been evil!! Anyway, we're back to Vaughn not really being dead.

Of course he couldn't be dead. He is smoking hot Michael Vartan and I never really believed you were serious about firing him anyway. But, dude, JJ, the trust is gone. You lied to me about Vaughn's death motivating Sydney. Sydney knew he was dead! And now you've given Not Vaughn some stupid storyline with The Cardinal, whoever the hell that is, that will probably not be resolved in five more episodes and I'm just going to be irritated about the wasted screen time that could be going to SHMV. Bring him back to the screen and it better be soon.

Trust, JJ, is delicate. You are seriously pushing it with Lost. All the little coincidence things are starting to get cutesy and for the love of God, cut it out with the damn reruns. American Idol's going to start kicking your ass pretty soon and I would hate to see Lost get its ass beat by a bunch of mostly no talent ass clowns (Chris, Katharine and Elliot are my faves, but Elliot's going down next week. I called it from the final twelve that the final five would Chris, Taylor, Kellie, Paris, and Katharine. I totally fucking called it. Just ask Omar).

Anyway, get rid of the Blonde of the Insipid Expression and Not Vaughn. Bring back SHMV and Weiss, too, if you can swing it. And for the love of God, don't cliffhang my favorite show that got canceled because you're too busy making movies with that complete loon Tom Cruise (Suri? are you even kidding me?) just because you can. End it and end it cleanly and happily. And bring back Smoking Hot Michael Vartan.

Thank you,
Kisses,
Lucy

Countdown

Busy, busy, busy!! Lucy's been a busy girl.

Well, not in the sense that she'd like to be anyway. store has kept me hopping like you wouldn't believe. There are some days when The Object of My Affection and I don't even see each other. I'm asleep when he's goes to work, he's asleep when I get home from work. It sucks. I can't remember the last meal he and I ate together where one of us wasn't on the phone with work (okay, that's mostly Rock Starr. Omar, whom I love deeply, has a cell phone he must answer when it rings. So the conference calls can go on for awhile). In fact, I can't remember the last meal we ate together, period.

But in three weeks it won't matter because we'll be married. Finally. After all the garbage, all the money, all the running around. We'll be married. And not to be mushy or anything, but I'm so looking forward to it.

Baby Sis came down this past weekend and she and Omar and I just hung out. We went to Target, we rented movies, we had Chinese food. We just hung out. It was a total nonwedding day and we didn't talk (too much) about the wedding and I was like, "My two favorite people in the whole world are sitting on my couch right now and I'm happy." That's it.

That being said, the nonwedding day cost me. I have a seating chart to finish, pictures to order, a deejay to meet, a dress fitting, flowers to order, etc. Plus we still have to pick the readings, the hymns, etc. And I'm wiped out. Just tired all the time.

Wedding planning is exhausting. But I kind of don't care. Omar and I are going on our honeymoon and I couldn't be more excited about getting married to him.