Um hold on, an EARTHQUAKE just interrupted my posting. This post would have been up 45 minutes earlier (not that it makes a difference because this is the first post in WEEKS! months?) if the most terrifying earthquake I’ve ever experienced hadn’t taken place just as I was signing in.

The last earthquake was on Easter. (Ah! aftershock!) Teebs, Mama Millz and I were just leaving the zoo, and that was a pretty big one, 7.2. This one was only 5.9 but it was epicentered closer and it was longer. And it was a mindfucker. There was the initial super crazy jolt and the requisite shaking to a slow fade (at which point TBU turned to me and said, earthquake?*) THEN it started all over again. Teebs and I casually went outside (he in his underwear, flaunting his adorable skinny legs) and the solid ground we were standing on continued to rumble for a good 15 seconds more. Earthquakes normally don’t bother me, I’ve been in a few in various situations (class, movies, the zoo) but this one was the biggest, strongest and longest (that’s what she said. HA! beat you to it!)

*Um YEAH it’s an earthquake! What the fuck else do you think it is? Our whole house is moving and creaking and THE GROUND IS MOVING! You were born and raised in California, I love you babe, but get a clue. This reaction was very similar to the one he had when we were at the zoo for the last earthquake. We were in the car getting ready to leave and just as he was about to turn the ignition he asked, why are you shaking the car?

I’m not shaking the car!

He turned to my mom, Are you shaking?

No.

Babe it’s an earthquake.

Not funny, stop shaking!

I’m not shaking, it’s an earthquake! I point to the sea of bouncing cars in the parking lot.

And even then he had a hard time grasping the concept. That was a pretty long earthquake too, we stepped out of the car after that whole conversation and it was still going. Anyway, Teebs needs better earthquake sense. Also it was really funny how the tourists lost their shit at the zoo. Downright amusing.

***

On Lady Gaga’s latest video: It’s like a film student mashup of everything having to do with the transition from the 80′s to the 90′s, including Madonna videos, with a sprinkle of Rhythm Nation (what with the bike shorts and general late early 90′s get ups) with just a hint of Christina Aguilera during her Dirrty phase. It’s like trying to make a gourmet meal out of everything you like and upon realizing it’s awful, you add something you know is terrible but you’re hoping it will somehow magically transform the shit stew you just made, respectively. Let me tell you, it does not work. That’s just the video, don’t even get me started on the fact that she’s just blurting out random Latin boy names, after the first chorus, TBU and I took over, Consuelo, Rigaberto, Domingo! It’s so painfully reminiscent of Madonna during her La Isla Bonita phase, there’s nothing performance art-y about it, not to me at least. I know that one could easily defend Gaga by saying that her whole schtick is about subverting fame and it’s constructs (and Madonna, Janet and Christina are perfect subjects), but in the end she’s a pop artist plain and simple and this was just pop rehash. I was already non-plussed by Telephone (the song itself and YES, the video too), this is just blech. Low point Gaga, sorry to say.

I’m so sure you needed my opinion on that. I consume entirely too much media.

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The copious amount of media I consume is kinda my thing though. So continuing in that vein, The Tudors, on Showtime (and Netflix watch instantly!). I am loving this show. It stars Jonathan Rhys Meyers. I have conflicting feelings about him, I’m not a big celebrity follower so I may be confusing him with someone else, but isn’t he the one who flew into some sort of drunken rage at his mom and his sister and on an entirely separate occasion called someone a nigger when he wasn’t allowed on a flight? I mean, I SAY that I’m not a big celebrity follower but I certainly know a lot about somebody. I can’t find a picture of him where he doesn’t look ridiculous so I won’t provide one, but I assure you, he is a treat. I hope not too much of an asshole in real life because that would have an impact on my enjoyment of him.

Mmmm, yes, here he is. Not too ridiculous right?

Totally not ridiculous picture of JRM

Anyway, I loved him in Velvet Goldmine (see awesome photo above). Never thought about him again until I was browsing Watch Instantly and saw The Tudors. And I was like, Oh yeah, that guy! he was great in that one movie that made me want to do a ton of mushrooms and bathe myself in vomit and glitter! Right The Tudors, The Tudors. I could honestly do with less gratuitous sex scenes, yes I get the whole court was fucking everybody and it was all hush hush and dramatic, I get it, let’s be less cloying about it. Anyway, the costumes are unbelievable, really, really beautiful. Jonathan Rhys Myers does a surprisingly fantastic job as King Henry VIII. Surprising because I often find it hard to take ridiculously beautiful people seriously in serious roles. And I am captivated by Maria Doyle Kennedy, who plays King Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon. She has become my favorite part of the whole show. I know how the history goes and it makes everything so much more tragic and sweeping. Knowing how the story unfolds does not detract from the show, mainly because it is so loosely based on history if they weren’t freaking named right after the historical figures it might be hard to know it was about them.

Ha! Have you read this far? I don’t know what to tell you. The Millionizer is on media tonight.

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The Millionizer has also FINALLY been accepted to nursing school! I got an A- in organic chemistry so that sealed the deal. I’m in. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to pay for it. I start July 12, I haven’t told my work and I am nervous as hell. I am also excited! Me! A career! Responsibilities that don’t involve sorting mail! Oh my goodness, could our little Millionizer be growing up? It might be happening folks, considering that she’s now 27. That’s 9 times 3! That’s late 20′s! That’s awesome!

Ok, ok, ok, ok now go watch Velvet Goldmine and report back, then watch the Tudors and lust after all the grandeur. Oh and this guy isn’t so bad either:

Henry Cavill, Gavin Rossdale lookalike and First Duke of Suffolk in The Tudors.

Well then, let’s go dilly some pickles and be nice to each other. Don’t pick at your skin!

The Millionizer has plans to do a post divulging all of her skin care suggestions. I was gonna call them secrets but that sounds like a lady mag trying to make you spend an entire hours worth of pay with the headline “Totally awesome butt secks secrets men want YOU to know!” I hate that shit. The headline would be in some gaudy neon color too. Tre gauche.

The wedding planning is coming right along. The customized shot glasses arrived today, so it’s all coming together nicely.

I showed my boob to some random bicyclist on the way to Costco tonight. TBU and I were recreating a “Want Bitty” skit and I pulled my boob out. TBU didn’t notice but the guy on the bike was like “did I just see what I think I saw?” Yes, you did kind sir.

Skip to about 1:20 for the gold. If you’re interested in mom boobs.

I played hooky (hookey? hookie?) from work today. I know, it’s only my third full week (well almost full) but I was so tired when I woke up this morning I almost couldn’t move. I haven’t been sleeping well since the transition. Speaking of transition. In Costco tonight I tugged on TBU’s arm and said, “You know you’re in so-cal when your local Costco in peddling acid wash and ed hardy inspired yoga leggings in a non-ironic, non-Halloween manner.” Ugh, the people in the lower half of this state, I am telling you.

That’s not to say they aren’t infesting more Northern regions, but this, this is where the hive is. The ones up there are just scouts. We visited TBU’s mom this weekend, or rather her house. You know, the one with the lake and the guards? We went out for a casual lunch on Saturday and there was this woman who I literally could not stop staring at. Her lips were an injury that she was parading around as a pout. And the boobs. I just really felt bad for her daughter. That poor girl. That poor flat chested little girl who is undoubtedly going to develop, if she hasn’t already, an unhealthy dislike of her body. Or not, because who am I to say? Just a girl with healthy C cups observing at a lunch counter.

Speaking of bodies or my body in particular, I have been having a thing with it. For pretty much all of my adolescent and adult life I have been trying to change it. See! That’s who I am to say! I wanted smaller boobs until I realized how awesome they were/are. Then I wanted smaller everything else. Smaller thighs, smaller stomach, smaller wrists, arms, hips, neck. I pretty much decided that everything about my body was just wrong. And I’m not saying I’m over all that, because I don’t think I’ll ever be. It has become such a normal part of my thought process, to dislike what I see in the mirror, that I don’t think the nueral passageways that connect those thoughts with my emotions will ever disappear. I don’t think I’ll ever see my thighs as they are, as beautiful. But I’ve decided that they just are, and that’s all I can do. I am tired of all the energy I spend on thinking about my body, how I can change it, how many calories I’ve consumed and burned. I am tired of wondering why I have the kind of luck to not have the kind of beautiful body I don’t have to work at. I am just tired of it.

This was all brought on because of the wedding. Of course, I am unoriginal and thought trying to lose weight for the wedding was a good idea. But the thing is, is that I was never trying to lose weight for the wedding I was trying to lose weight for the pictures of the wedding. I feared looking back at them and thinking how I could have done it, but I was just lazy. But then I realized I was probably the only one so focused on my flaws, the only one who noticed my double chin or the fact that my shoulder blades or collar bones aren’t readily apparent. And I was like fuck it.

But not like fuck it entirely, I am still working out five days a week and watching my portions and hoping beyond hope that something will budge. But I guess now I am just like, “It it what it is.” There is a hint of a sense of peace about it all but I am still predicting my future self being disappointed with my current self. But maybe my future self will be more awesome than I give her credit for. I don’t know.

I just read Mimi Smartypants’ latest post and I was like ugh, it’s true, to break a blogging break you just have to plow through a post and get it over with. It took me ten minutes to get this far, I was all emo and unable to remember any grammar and punctuation rules. I’ll give you all the dirty dish on the wedding, but first, more real time tales of getting these words to your eyes.

TBU was asleep taking his night nap and I wanted him to wake up but I didn’t want to actually wake him up. So I figured I’d write a post. Because what inevitably happens is that I try to write a post and just when I’m all into it he wakes up and demands attention, like a child or a cat or something else that aggressively vies for your attention. Have I told you how I mostly write posts while the teebs sleeps? It’s the easiest time to get thoughts out and whip my fingers into a frenzy of flow. But before I started writing I thought, hey you know what self? Yes self? I think I should have some ice cream! Some really delicious, full fat, creamy ice cream. That sounds like a great idea self. It’s Friday, it’s ok to not have your usual dessert of frozen berries in a glass of soy milk. I rationalized that I started a bootcamp class and I was sufficiently sore, indicating that I had worked out at a pretty severe level and therefore deserved ice cream. So up I got to get my reward when guess who woke up? Yup that’s right, the cat. Who then woke TBU up. Now I’m typing this and he is all, whatchoo doin? He’s fixing his sound system so he can play his XBox and one of the cables isn’t working and he is narrating every thought to me. Knowing fulling well that I don’t give a shit about his game playing experience. Maybe it’s this cable. Oh. Wait. Now it’s working. No it’s not. Oh! It WAS this cable! I don’t care!

ANYWAY!

So there has been major wedding planning drama. It all started about 16 years ago when TBU’s parents divorced. Fast forward to last Monday when we met with the wedding planner that TBU’s dad wanted us to meet with. We went knowing full well that she is a crazy ass rich person’s wedding planner and that we could never afford her. But we were playing his game. The game he plays when he is dangling money in front of your face. After looking at the planner’s portfolio and drooling over these amazing weddings we found out that it was juuuuust out of reach. It turned out to be a much more reasonable number we were looking at.

Let me clarify something right here. I don’t need a crazy ass rich person’s wedding. I don’t need lighting effects, to be paraded in on an elephant or for doves to be released. I was, and still am, mostly concerned with everyone having a great time. What I found most appealing in a wedding planner was that someone else would deal with all the shit that goes into putting a wedding together. You know, someone to decorate, to clean up and to generally make sure everything goes as it should. That’s all I wanted. Really.

Ok, so now we’re looking at a much more manageable number with a planner but we’re still short just a bit. And we’re thinking, hey maybe throwing this party doesn’t have to be a huge chore, maybe we can hire someone to do the hard parts for us, leaving us more time to drink and get ready. So we go back to his dad and tell him the planner told us the bill would be no more than $1. And his dad is like, great! I am comfortable with that. He does some math and, in addition to what we’re going to contribute, he decides that he will give us $0.35 if AND ONLY IF, TBU’s mom will also contribute $0.35. He mentions the alimony he had to pay her for 15 years and how his resources are not unlimited but that she has resources and money money money. Then he asks how much my family is contributing (a far larger percentage of their annual salary than you are, thankyouverymuch). Mind you this is a man of means, significant means.

So, we take this news back to TBU’s mom, we haven’t even asked her for more money (she has already commited to about $0.25 at this point, a generous and appreciated sum). We just get to the part in the story about how we liked the wedding planner’s portfolio and how, if it were possible, we’d like to have her do the wedding. THAT’S ALL WE’VE SAID when she starts bawling and screaming that from this point forward she is no longer involved in the wedding at all and that she will absolutely not give any money to a wedding planner. She said she would go to the wedding and support us and whatever but she would remove herself from any pre-wedding activities. And we are like WHAT. THE. FUCK. just happened?

She’s crying and telling us that her ex-husband is trying to control her (it’s probably true) and that he’s dicking everyone around with his moeny (again, true). Her current husband starts yelling at us, asking why we would even want a fucking wedding planner. Uuuuummm I dunno, how about not having to do any manual labor before my fucking wedding day? And then he drops the bomb (it was a bomb for me at least, others were far less affected). He says that it’s ridiculous that a groom’s mom should have to pay any money for the wedding. I immediately feel ashamed (that’s not accurate, but I don’t know how to accurately describe the exact feeling I had, however, it was terrible). So I start crying. I’m upset because the underlying theme of both of these conversations is that these people are giving money for a wedding they shouldn’t even have to pay for because my family doesn’t have the money to do it themselves. So here I am, this poor kid sitting on the patio of an extremely large house that resides on a man-made lake, where you have to pass through security gates to even get on the man made island. And not just a security gate where you enter a password, no, you have to talk to guards and they have to check your name on a list, like it’s the fucking Warner Bros lot or something. Now I’m crying and TBU’s mom thinks I’m crying because she won’t give us anymore of her money. Which is not the case. Truly, not the case. I am crying for two reasons 1. she is crying and I have a difficult time dealing with my and other people’s emotions and 2. I am being yelled at by a rich New York Jew about how my family should be paying for this and how I have to make a decision to settle things.

Oh yeah, did I mention that? That TBU’s step-dad started yelling at me to make a decision? No? Because he did. And that didn’t help me regain composure, not even a little. So I sit there silently, with tears rolling down my face, my lips quivering and trying desperately to regulate my breathing while TBU and his mom are screaming at each other and step dad is berating us for even thinking about getting a wedding planner and how I have to make a decision. Well it was pretty obvious that the decision had been made when TBU’s mom started screaming that she wasn’t giving any money if there was a wedding planner involved. They get up and walk to the end of their yard that meets with their dock, where their boat is waiting for them, bobbing up and down in the man-made lake they live on, so they can go on their nightly boat ride. We leave on our trip back to San Diego.

TBU calls his dad and says his mom won’t match his dad’s $0.35. Dad says that’s too bad and that is that. Now, I’m not upset with TBU’s dad because he won’t give us as much money as we’d need to hire the wedding planner. No, it’s his money, he worked for it and I see no reason that he should just give it away. But I am upset with him because he used our wedding as a way to control a situation with his money. He used our wedding to piss TBU’s mom off. He was being an asshole when I thought he would be excited for us. It’s complete bullshit that we know he could afford the whole cost of the wedding and has in fact offered to pay for a significant portion of it, only if TBU’s mom matched him. The only thing he was ever excited about was the opportunity to wield his bank account, probably because that’s the only thing he could wield that would cause a reaction. Fuck him. I guess (obviously) I was being naive when I thought he could rally and just be happy that his son was marrying the person he loved and who loved him back. Nope, this man is as creepy* in his head as he is on the outside. I never really liked him, but now I’m just going to avoid him. At this point I really don’t want his money, it would just make things mucky and gross. Like really, he won’t give a measly $0.35 when he was comfortable with $2 beforehand? You’ve played your cards dude now the only thing you’re doing is confirming that you’re an asshole. Congratulations! No one fucking likes you! There are more infuriating details but that is enough for now.

*One of many, many creepy things (including repeatedly commenting on my looks and staring at me like a pedophile) he’s done happened the day before this all went down. He came in from the pool in his speedo and sat down on the arm of a chair so that I was eye level with his geriatric junk. Then after a series of unfortunate inquiries on TBU’s part he went out to the street STILL IN HIS SPEEDO and put on a helmet, wrist guards and a fanny pack (we still don’t know why the fanny pack) and proceeded to demonstrate this device for us:

So please imagine a 70-ish man, in a speedo, a helmet, wristguards and a fucking fanny pack doing that in a rather upscale neighborhood. I could not make this stuff up I am not nearly creative or high enough. This man is a fucking loon.

Oh yeah and the wedding theme is Dirty Dancing. No joke, the best movie ever is the theme of my wedding, we have invites and shot glasses and everything. It’s going to be awesome, a little low budget, but awesome.

First dance to this? Or this? I love the chola clowns in the second one. You don’t really think this one do you? You fucking purist, although it is a good one. If Swayze dies before the wedding I swear I’ll include this one