MOVING SALE

Just a reminder, for the latest in P-Chef All Star bitchery and trickery as well as my best selling book "How to Make Your Husband Want to Have You Committed in 15 Minutes or Less" just have a little clickety click click on over to my new blog because I've moved.

And I am in no way a best selling author. Although I do think that would make a funny book. Or at the very least a good entry...

Drum Roll Please...

So nobody guessed right with the little hint I gave you...remember this one?

Well its time...everyone reset your bookmarks because bitches...I'm making a move.

Check my shit out!!!

Girlfriends.

One of the (many many) things I’ve always envied about my sister was the large group of girlfriends who have remained constant in her life from the time she was in elementary school. Its a group that continuously grew and very rarely got smaller.

Throughout high school and college, these girls stayed in touch and when Betsy joined a sorority, her circle grew even larger. While people would move away, get married, and continue where their lives would take them, they would always be able to tell you where they all were and what they were doing.

I was never a constant girlfriend person until a few years ago. I don’t think that I ever stayed the same person for long enough to accumulate good and trusting girlfriends. But since moving to Georgia, I’ve also collected a group of girlfriends. A couple have since moved in different directions, some of us are married, others aren’t, but we try to get together as often as we can. Recently, I’ve also expanded that circle to include people who I’ve never actually met, something that just blows my mind. (Cue sappy internet blogosphere moment).

I don’t think I realized the necessity of girlfriends until recently. But this weekend, seeing all these people travel back to Knoxville from everywhere they have scattered too made me think about it. My girlfriends are so precious to me and yes…Patrick is my best friend in the whole world but DAMN. A girl needs her bitches too.

So in honor...I present you my sister and some of the girlfriends...

Confused.

Something odd is going on here...I am at a loss.

Also...Morris thinks I'm a drunk.

Instant Replay

So. My baby sister is married. Regardless of the fact that, in my mind, she is five and has curly pigtails, she is now somebody's wife. So how does that change my role as the big sister? Technically, I'm no longer "the guardian", not that I have been for years. Let me tell you a thing or two about Betsy (and yes...shut the fuck up, I'm hammered. But seriously, who is doing better...I'm typing and Patrick is puking...so there.)

I don't know what thing or two I wanted to tell you. She is perfect. And beautiful. And now? She is happy and married. I can't reconcile the image in my head of the little sister losing her first tooth with the woman I placed a veil on this afternoon. How can they be the same person? When did this happen?

That's all I know to say. I don't know because I've never been here before. So Betsy Ann...I love you. And yes, I was drunk when I was hugging all up on you and telling you what an amazing woman you are. But I'm NOT a drunk liar. You are nothing less than magnificent.

Good night and good luck. He's fantastic. He treats you like the princess I've always seen you as. And you looked like an angel. Like my perfect baby angel. Be happy.

Prediction

I'm pretty sure that I'm going to die from the hiccups at some point. I've had them for about three hours.

Fucking HURTS!

still. drunk.

And realized about two hours ago that while packing? Yeah...TOTALLY forgot about the bridemaids luncheon. What the FUCK am I going to wear.

AND STILL WITH THIS MOTHERFUCKING HICCUPS!!!

KILLING. ME.

Why the South...as Zube Girl would say...Rocks Socks...

Because in the South, when you see someone you haven't seen since YOU got married almost a lifetime ago and you've gained like 50 fucking pounds, they are just going to give you a fucking hug and tell you that you look great. Sure, they're lying. But fuck it. I'm drunk. It's just 9:00? Dayum.

While the cat is away there will be an even cooler cat to take her place.

Zube Girl is one of my favorite internet beeyotches. If she were here, we'd drink too much and our husbands would totally hang out.

No drunken posting yet as it is 9:23 in the morning and I am revising wedding programs for about the fifteenth time in two days (Shouldn't this shit have been DONE already?) but there is one hellacious party here tonight and it is taking place about 15 paces from where I sit right now so who knows...REAL TIME! DRUNK! POSTING!

Yeah right...

Without further ado...this hot little number (who sent me a FABULOUS picture but this computer is grumpy and since I have to erase all my tracks to prevent the family from stumbling across this blog I'll have to add it later) and her thoughts on marriage...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is Zube Girl, writing a guest entry for our very own P-Chef All Star. I can’t even count the ways in which P-Chef rocks. Seriously. But, since I’m probably not supposed to post an entire book here, I’ll just skip to Chapter 12, page 365 of My Bestest Internet Buddy and Why She Kicks Ass. Since she’s surely having a blast, boozing and crying happy tears in celebration of her little sister’s wedding, let’s talk about marriage, shall we?

One of the many reasons I have such a crush on Ms. P-Chef is because of the glimpses her blog offers into the relationship she shares with her hubby, Patrick. Sometimes I swear when I’m reading their verbal exchanges that Zube Boy and I are their couple twin. It’s uncanny.

Married life is wonderful and difficult and indescribable. I used to think that Zube Boy and I were all alone in our flavor of love. I don’t know that a day goes by without us laughing and poking fun at one another. I suppose that’s what happens when you combine a sarcastic girl, and a boy with a dry sense of humor.

Marriage is some serious shit. The weight of that seriousness is evident at the beginning of every day when you wake up and find that your beloved has been practicing his routine for the 2008 Flatulympics all night and you’re gasping for air, or he’s tapping you on the nose because your big toe has been in his ear since 2:00AM. Day after day you wake up with the same person, and it’s routine and it’s crazy and you just fucking love it and you have no idea why. And you think you could know why if you sat around figgering it out all day. But some things are best left unfiggered out. You know?

A couple of months after our wedding, I was sifting through boxes of leftover wedding favors and ceremony programs, and Zube Boy walked in.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to sort through all this crap.”

“Is that a bottle of champagne from our wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“You should save that for our 50th wedding anniversary.”

I sat and stared and waited for the punch line. But, there wasn’t one. I looked at him, and big salty water drops started welling up in my eyes. I knew that we’d promised a lifetime together, but hearing him say that we’d be celebrating our marriage after fifty years sort of brought it home for me more than a fluffy white dress or cute little bubble containers with our names and wedding date on them ever could.

“Yeah honey. That’s a good idea.”

He turned and started to walk down the hallway, yelling back, “If I live that long with you NAGGING me all the time!”

“Shut up asshole!”

Now, that’s love. A flavor of love that my good friend here can appreciate. And that’s why I dig her so much.
Now, if everyone would lift their glasses, I’d like to propose a toast…To marriage, and all of its flavors!

Enough of this shit...

I am leaving. I've got too much going on in my head between getting ready for the wedding and that teensy thing I mentioned yesterday that NOBODY IN MY FAMILY seems to take me seriously about. And I have to get a hanging bag. How do I not have a hanging bag? Is that even possible?

Still need another guest poster. Zube Girl quickly volunteered so I kind of want to make out with her for it. If you're up for the challenge (not that you won't be interrupted by sleepy drunk crying P-Chef posts...oh there will drunk posting, no worries on that one!)

But I'll have a BIG DARN SURPRISE for you all when I return...you'll LOVE IT! Want a sneak preview?

Here it is...

Any guesses....?