Aaargh, getting married in the morning, folks! One sleep to go! Unfortunately, such is the level of anxiety caused by the imminent departure of my doggie for Las Vegas, combined with the fear of flying I mentioned in my last entry, that I’m not sure just how much sleep I’ll get exactly, but, you know…
I’m staying with my parents tonight, while Terry stays here on his own. We are all about tradition, you see. I wonder how much mess he’ll be able to make in the few hours he’ll be in the house alone and awake?
Anyway, our bags are packed, we’re ready to go and all that jazz, and I’m heading off soon to have my nails done, so goodbye, farewell, and let’s hope my plane doesn’t crash! Will speak to you all when I’m married!
Despite the title of this entry, anyone who seen the recent photo I posted of my shoes will probably have guessed that I’m not really much of a one for travelling light. Oh hell no. In fact, I’ve just spent almost the entire day packing for my honeymoon, and trust me, it has not gone well. So far I’ve packed, unpacked and repacked several times, but my case STILL won’t close properly and I’ve only been able to squeeze in five pairs of shoes – and two of those don’t even count because they’re flip-flops and tennis shoes. And OK, I’ll wear one of the pairs I intended to take with me to travel in, so that’s just six pairs of shoes, but even so – SIX . PAIRS. OF. SHOES. That sucks. And also? Blows.
It’s totally freaking me out. I emailed my mum in a panic, and she was all, “you don’t need lots of pairs of shoes,” but the thing is, I totally DO need lots of pairs of shoes. Aaargh!
In better news, the red weals have totally disappeared now, so you’re looking at a 100% weal-free zone, kids. (Well, you would be if you were actually looking at me. You know what I mean.) I’m also so super-organised that I’ve even remembered to renew my library books online because we’ll be away when they’re due back, GO ME! And I also managed yet another quick trip to the shops to see if That Dress in Asda was available in my size yet. (It wasn’t, so I bought shoes instead, HOW WILL I GET THEM IN MY CASE?)
So. Things are moving along nicely. Terry’s best man and brother, John, arrived today from Birmingham; his other brother will be arriving from Athens tomorrow, and my best friend is travelling up from the south of England tomorrow, too. It’s really humbling to think of all of these people travelling all that way just because of us. I mean – wow. We totally don’t deserve that. Tomorrow the men’s suits have to be picked up, and I’m having my nails done (which I’m not looking forward to because it will involve lots of that inane beautician smalltalk I’m so bad at)… then we’re good to go.
One thing, though. Well, two things, actually:
Thing One
Tomorrow Rubin is being taken to the place he knows as ‘Las Vegas‘ and we know as “the dog kennels up the road”. Now, he has been there before, so I know they’ll look after him, and he’ll only be there for two nights before my parents take him to their house for the rest of the fortnight we’re away, but I feel terrible. So, so terrible. I mean, yes, it’s only for two nights, but the thing is, he won’t know that. He will think he’s been totally abandoned, and that we’re never coming back for him, and all day he’s been breaking my heart with his big, mournful eyes. Mind you, he did pee on the washing machine while I was out buying my shoes, so moving on…
Thing Two
I am terrified of flying, and I don’t mean I’m just a little bit scared of flying here, I mean “one time the cabin crew almost had to sedate me to get me to calm down”. It’s like, Mr T-league fear of flying. For the past few weeks I’ve been able to distract myself from the all-consuming fear with work and wedding planning, but now that I actually come to pack my case? I am crapping myself. How will I get on the plane? What if it crashes? And, you know, there really hasn’t been a big plane crash for ages now, which means there MUST be one due soon, no? Terrified. And things like this don’t help:
 This could totally happen to me
Must think positive, must think positive, must think positive…
Weal Watch:
The weals are still in situ, but every day brings them a little closer to normality, and I have everything crossed that they will have disappeared completely by Saturday. Oh please, God, let them have disappeared completely by Saturday…
When I woke up this morning and saw the diminished status of the weals, however, I was so overjoyed that I picked up Rubin and placed him on the bed for a quick game of "Rubin tries to lick Amber’s face". "Great, the weals are almost gone," I thought joyfully – just as Rubin scratched my eyeball with his sharp little claw. Doh. I should totally be placed inside some kind of bubble for my own protection. Who do I speak to about that, I wonder?
Wedding Watch:
Things all seem to be going to plan with the wedding preparation so far (red weals aside, obviously), which means that something will probably go dramatically wrong in the next couple of days. We visited the venue for the last time tonight and everything was looking good. I meanwhile, am starting to get a little bit nervous, although still mostly excited. Last night’s dream: it was the day before the wedding and both of my shiny new veneers dropped off, plus one of my other teeth. Weirdly, Terry (who has no veneers), dreamt almost exactly the same thing. (I also dreamt that Sky and Elle from Neighbours were having a lesbian affair, but I don’t think that had anything to do with the wedding…)
Also: at about 3am this morning, I leapt screaming from the bed and slammed the light on, shouting to Terry to GET OUT OF THE BED NOW because it was FILLED WITH CRABS, OMG! It took him a good five minutes to calm me down and convince me that there were no crustaceans in the bed. After that, sleep didn’t come easy, let me tell you…
Ghetto Watch:
No, you didn’t know there was a ghetto watch, did you? That’s because I’ve been so busy freaking out about the RED WEALS that I have neglected to tell you all how I’ve also been freaking out about the Ghetto Kids, who are totally cruisin’ for a bruisin’ this week, for sure.
The Ghetto Kids, you see, got themselves a set of goalposts for Christmas. It’s not clear which kids these goal posts belong to, because they’re stationed in various gardens at various times. Most of the time, though, the goalposts are stationed at the bottom of MY garden, backing directly onto my front window. You can probably tell where I’m going with this.
For some time now I’ve been freaking the hell out concerned that the Ghetto Kids will one day miss the goals and hit my window instead. (No, that hasn’t happened. Just thought I’d make that clear right now, in case you’re expecting this story to be more interesting than it really is. Actually, it’s not that interesting at all, so you might want to stop reading now. Bye!) This fear is not unfounded, because that ball? Is never out of my garden. And my brown picket fence? Has been totally destroyed by it.
Yes, tonight, as we left for Orocco Pier, I noticed that the Ghetto Kids were playing football again. The goals were no longer at the bottom of our garden (that being because I went out and yelled at them last night about it), but directly opposite it. Now, I can’t prove that it was the Ghetto Kids that caused the fence to be TOTALLY FLATTENED by the time we came home, but given that they’ve been slamming their ball against it for a while now, and were totally using it as the opposite goal when we left, they’re certainly at the top of my "Suspects" list. (Also on the list: the council, who swept away part of the fence with a cleaning van earlier this month.)
I’m not happy. So very, very not happy. And also: I’m worried. Because what if the kids put the goals back at the bottom of the garden while we’re away on our honeymoon, and I’m not there to be the Ghetto Vigilante I am the rest of the time? And what if they actually do manage to break the window, and no one knows who to contact because we’re not there, and although my parents will have a spare key, they won’t be able to come round every day and check that Ghetto Kids haven’t destroyed yet another part of our property? WHAT IF?
One thing’s for sure: these Ghetto Kids are doing my red weals no favours whatsoever. And neither are the crustaceans in the bed.
Because I know you’ve all been up all night worrying about the status of my RED WEALS (and let me tell you, I certainly have) I’m taking a break from my hectic schedule of FREAKING THE HELL OUT to update you. You will thank me for this one day when you, too, wake up five days from your wedding with eyes like a crack whore, trust me.
(Also: did you know that the top four results on Google for “red weals around eyes” are for this very blog? And that people search using that term every single day in life? People who do that – I’m so sorry that this blog has been unable to give you the help you need on the red weals issue. To be honest, it wasn’t much help to me either when I Googled “red weals around eyes”. Gah. After this week’s entries I fully expect to get me some more weal-related dominance on Google, which just goes to show that my life has not been wasted after all. Phew.*)
Anyway, suffice to say that, as per this entry’s title, I don’t have Bette Davis eyes this morning. No, I still got me the red, ugly eyes of the WEALS. They’re not quite as crack-whore-ish as they were yesterday, however, which tells me that one of the many potions I used on them yesterday is working. The question: which one is it? We may never know. The general consensus today, however, seems to be that this is, indeed, a stress-related thing, so I’m now trying to remain as calm and relaxed as possible – which actually isn’t all that easy when you have red weal eyes four days before your wedding, and you wake up to find that your dog has been violently sick all over his bed…
Also, I have been having fairly stressful wedding-related nightmares every morning for about a week now, and yes, I know it’s really boring when people insist on relating their dreams in tedious detail to you (“And then the chair turned into an elephant! And the elephant turned into Michael Jackson! And he ate me!”), but I’m going to do it anyway, albeit in the lazy blogger’s favourite format: the bulleted list. Here they are.
Wedding-related dreams I have had this week:
- The morning of the wedding. Terry announces that as a “surprise” he has bought us tickets to see The Eagles in Glasgow, that very morning. We will travel to Glasgow (1 hour), see the band, travel back, then get married. Because that wouldn’t be stressful AT ALL.
- The morning of the wedding. My parents arrive in a helicopter and announce that they’re taking me to visit Loch Lomond before the ceremony. Again: totally not stressful to try and do something like that right before the wedding, although, in their defense, they did have a helicopter.
- The first day of the honeymoon. We arrive at our villa (which now a poky little one-bedroom apartment – surprise!) and suddenly remember that we invited every single last member of both our families to join us on honeymoon. And they did. Doh!
- Continuation of the dream above. Terry and I want to go out for a nice, romantic meal on honeymoon. My dad won’t let us because he has cooked everyone steak pie and mashed potato. “No need to eat out AT ALL on this honeymoon when we can have steak pie here in the apartment every night!” says my dad. Quite.
- On honeymoon. Terry dives into the shallow end of the swimming pool. Terry breaks his neck. The End.
I wonder what tonight will bring? Anyway, now I must go and eat something, then relax. Terry, meanwhile, is currently packing his suitcase, so either he’s getting ready for the honeymoon, or he’s planning to leave me. At this point I have no idea which it is…
* I also rank pretty highly for the search term “pee in the woods”. I’m all about the over-achieving, me.
OK, so we have antihistamine cream. We have haemorrhoid cream. We have industrial strength intensive cream for very dry skin. We have a little miniature hairdryer which, OK, has nothing at all to do with the RED WEALS, but which was only £5 in Boots, how about that? (Oh, and by “we” I mean “I”, by the way. I seem to be referring to myself in the third person, I have no idea why. Sorry.) We still have the red weals at this stage, but PLEASE GOD LET ONE OF THESE CREAMS WORK and I will… I dunno, give money to the poor? Would that do you? (Wait a minute, I AM the poor. Does that mean I get to give money to myself?) Give me something to work with here, God… if you want my soul or something, now would be a good time to ask, you know? Because I would totally sell my soul in return for the eyes I had last week, pre-weals. Totally.
Yeah, I’m pretty stressed here for sure. Weally stressed, you could say, fnar, fnar. (God, I crack myself up, sometimes. :makesjokestotryandhidethefactthatsheisSCARED:) And actually, I don’t feel even slightly stressed about the wedding – just about the red weals. GOD.
Anyway. This morning I got up and went to the shops to buy my various potions and it was so warm and sunny I had to open the sunroof on the car, and…
(brief pause while I go outside and close the sunroof again)
… it honestly felt like summer. (Bear in mind here that this is Scotland, so “mildly warm” is actually about as good as summer gets). It’s lovely. It was like this on Saturday too, and you know what that means? Why, that means that there is NO WAY IN HELL that it will be this nice on Saturday. I don’t care though. Just as long as I get to have a weal-free wedding…
There’s just six days to go until the wedding folks, and guess what I got this week? Yes, that’s right, I got me some RED WEALS. Aaargh! You remember my red weals, don’t you? They were the huge, ugly ass red marks that appeared underneath my eyes last year… I finally concluded that they were being caused by my beloved Touche Eclat concealer, so I stopped using it and the weals went away. Until now.
This week, you see, the red weals have come back, and they’re back with a bit of a twist, the twist being that they’re now appearing both underneath and above my eyes. More specifically, two eyes have red weals above them, one eye also has an attractive, puffed-up red weal underneath it, too. With less than a week left until my wedding, this is obviously really handy, isn’t it?
I’m freaking out a bit here, to be honest. And in answer to the questions I just know you all will be asking: no, I have not been using any different products recently. No, I have not changed my skincare routine. Yes, it does seem like I must be allergic to something, why yes it does! BUT WHAT? For the love of God, what is making my eyes go all red like this, and, more importantly, HOW DO I STOP IT?!
Well, first things first: I am not wearing any makeup. I’m a complete makeup free zone here, and this means that I also won’t really be going out of the house much this week because oh my God, I look scary without makeup. The weals must away, though, and as I don’t have time to try and eliminate things that could be causing them one at a time, I’m just going to have to eliminate everything, all at once. This completely sucks, as you can imagine. I mean, I’m sitting here looking like someone punched me hard in the face, and then I sat up all night crying over it, and trust me, this is SO not the look I was planning on having for the wedding.
Gah. Gah, gah and thrice gah. And also: I wonder what will go wrong on the other five days?
Well, folks, there’s just thirteen days to go until what everyone keeps referring to as "The Big Day", and because I am crazy I have decided to try and document my final fortnight of wedding preparation, so that one day when I’m old and even more crazy I’ll be able to look back and say, "Hey, I really spent a lot of time thinking obsessively about the wedding, didn’t I?"
So, without further ado, let the record show that today was spent shopping for a new hairdryer after mine blew up at the weekend. No, that has absolutely nothing to do with the wedding, but it was very annoying because, seriously, that sucker cost me £25 and I could totally have bought yet another pair of shoes for that, GOD. The old hairdryer really did explode, though. It was very dramatic, with a bang and a flash of light, the smell of burning filling the room, and me squealing in terror like a little girl. £25. SO not how I wanted to spend my money this month.
Anyway, after that we went round to see Terry’s mum, who presented us with a wedding gift of lovely, snuggly new dressing gowns, and the balance of the universe was restored. Um, that was pretty much it on the "wedding planning" front today. I did make some lists, mind you, because I’m all about the lists and can’t really be trusted to go anywhere without first of all writing down all of the many items I’ll need to take with me. Because we’re leaving for our honeymoon the day after the wedding, and will be spending the night of the wedding at the venue and the night before it at my parents’ house (well, I will be at my parents’ house. Terry will be here, and will probably spend the evening making as much mess as possible), this list-making of mine is particularly important because OH MY GOD, how will I remember everything? (Answer: by making lots of lists, obviously. Note to self: remember lists)
Oh, I also ordered books from Amazon. And I made an appointment to go and see the optician so that he can check my eyes and hand over the new contact lenses he’s had for THREE MONTHS now and which I haven’t had time to go and collect – thanks, Projects of Doom!
So, that was today. Only 12 more to go…
* Do you all have the song by Europe stuck in your heads now? Because I do.
It’s Mother’s Day here in the UK, which is as good an excuse as any, I think, for me to post this picture of me and my mum, which is one of my favourite photos in the whole world ever:
Yes, those are live monkies we’re holding. It was the 70s, okay, you were totally allowed to stand around clutching tiny clothed monkeys to your chest, so we totally did. I love the way my mum is cradling her monkey carefully, like the precious little living being it is, while I have just stuck mine under my arm with a “Yeah, it’s a monkey. SO?” expression on my face. Ah, those were the days…
Happy Mother’s Day, mum. Sorry I couldn’t get you a monkey.
 Rubin writes…
Now, I don’t want yoos all to get too jealous here, but it’s like, I think I might be goin’ to Las Vegas again. I’m not that bothered about it. I mean, I’ve been before, and let me tell you, it’s not all that great, Las Vegas. Last time I went was, like, totally WEIRD. Amber and Terry were goin’ and so were my Norma and John, so I was like, “OK, cool, goin’ to Las Vegas,” so I packed up my ponkies, we all get in the “car”, and then what happened was, we drove to this place that was totally like a DOG KENNEL, and I mean, TOTALLY. There’s no Elvis, there’s no slot machines, there’s NUTHIN there. And I was like, “This Vegas totally sucks,” and I didn’t even see Amber and Terry all week, so it’s like, their kennel must’ve been on another part of The Strip?
When they eventually turned up they were all, “Blah blah slot machines, blah blah Grand Canyon, blah blah all-you-can-eat-buffet-at-The-Bellagio” and I was like, “EH? Weren’t no SLOT MACHINES on my part of the strip, no siree. And ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFETS?! I was eatin’ DOG FOOD every night. EVERY NIGHT, people. And it wasn’t all I could eat either – not even close. I mean, this is the Rubinman, I once ate seven cats, y’know? So, it’s like, I know people totally rave about the Las Vegas, and don’t get me wrong, it was OK, but it’s like, it wasn’t GREAT, you know what I mean?
So, anyways, last week Amber and Terry are talkin’ about their freakin’ WEDDING AGAIN. (GOD, when will they shut up about that already? I mean, it’s not like there’s even anything good happening at it. They got no ponkies, no wolves, NOTHIN) and suddenly Terry’s all, “Oh, and we’ll need to book Rubin into Las Vegas again” and I was like: ?????????????!!!!
I think I’m only going for two nights this time while they’re having their stupid “wedding”, then I’m staying with my Norma and John but even so, it’s like, long way to go for TWO NIGHTS, no? And all I can say is, they better have booked me a better hotel this time. Like, one with an all you can eat buffet and stuff. Yeah, they better do that or I will NOT be happy, and trust me, they will NOT LIKE IT if the Rubinman’s not happy…
NOT happy…
So, that thing I said about having finished all of my Projects of Doom for the month? Scratch that. Actually, my life just seems to be one huge, endless P.O.D at the moment: no sooner is one finished than another one comes along to take it’s place. Damn.
The most recent project isn’t really a P.O.D., to be fair. It’s a 1200 word feature, and the deadline isn’t until next Monday, but between now and then I also have to think obsessively about the wedding, examine my face for evidence of incoming spots, think some more about the wedding and… well, you can see how the time fairly slips away, can’t you? Of course it doesn’t help that everyone I meet says, “Ooh, not long now! I hope you don’t get one of your Second Head spots just before The Big Day, because that would suck!” (Well, they don’t say that exactly, but THAT’S WHAT I HEAR. Oh yes.)
Anyway, I’d love to write more on this fascinating subject but … I can’t be bothered. Here, have a Rubinman update instead…
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