The Millionizer

Rumours seem so much more awesome when they are European.

Yes, the rumours are true, the Teebs and I have made it legal and it’s exactly like it was when we were living in sin. Except that now we have a bunch of checks made out to the both of us so we had to open a joint checking account. And now he wears a band on his left hand. And now we get to introduce each other as husband and wife. And now I have medical, dental, vision, life and supplemental life insurance. But that’s it!

The ceremony was typical Millionizer go big or go home style. It was at a yacht club, on a lake (with no yachts incidentally). I had a four foot train (I’m only 5′2″!) and arrived by boat a half hour late in a dramatic fashion. My audience oops – guests, watched as my bridesmaids, Mama Millionizer and I slowly made our way to the dock in a party boat decorated with fresh foliage and wedding bells. The gondOHla man (TBU’s stepdad) had a ridiculously flowy feather in his cap. It was a scene.

We walked up the dock and onto the yacht club deck, where I was walked down the aisle by my mother, of course. Five minutes after that, TBU was my husband and then we partied.

But that was just Saturday. The partying began on Wednesday when we got into town and continued through Sunday night. There was an awkward Millionizer/TBU extended family Thanksgiving celebration on Thursday. But after that, there was the hotel bar. NOTE: I think the key to all the fun we had was getting really great hotel rates for everyone at one hotel. The fact that we were all in the same hotel was AWESOME and lended to several after, after, after, after parties. Some are still going and I don’t think the last one will be over until 1/1/10. BTW, Sir Chinko and X, I am NOT going to Reno for New Years, deal.

Our first night in the hotel, Thursday, we got kicked out of our room and made to promise we would be the only two in it. But that was total bullshit, because the Canadians had just landed and wanted to say hello in their customary fashion, with beer and talking over each other. When the front desk called to ask how many people were in our room, TBU said 6, there were really 17 . TBU was yelled at and the party had to disperse. Just as everyone left TBU’s littlest brother walked in holding up a 24 pack and laughing about the front desk yelling at someone. So we moved to the parking lot. Funny how things kinda don’t change. Here we were, about to be married adults, drinking beer in a parking lot.

Friday we decorated the yacht club. It was a total DIY wedding. EVERYTHING was hand made and/or designed by one or both of us. This was also the morning that I realized I forgot a majorly important box of centerpiece decorations. It was the first and most severe of all my breakdowns to come in the next 36 hours. But TBU saved the day by going to the dollar store. Ha! It was a classy affair I assure you!

Friday night I couldn’t sleep, it was an awakeness so powerful two xanax couldn’t bring it down. I think it was mostly the fact that I slept in Ms. A’s room and not next to TBU. Ms. A! ever the traditionalist.

Saturday we woke up and went to Mama TBU’s house to get ready. Bada bing bada boom then we were on a boat to my wedding.

See? It’s easy. Having said that, I will never, ever, ever, EVAR plan another wedding. The next one’s at the courthouse. And any possible offspring are on their own. I’ll just throw money at that problem. Speaking of throwing money. Papa TBU decided that the wedding was a real success and he was AND I QUOTE “pleasantly suprised at how nicely done everything was” that he offered us money. FUCK YOU a-hole. Fuck you for being surprised and fuck you for deciding after the fact that it was a wedding worth spending money on. Had we known we were going to have this money we could have done things like not have fucking panic attacks about all the checks being written to throw a party for 100 people!

On Sunday, I wrote Mama TBU a check for all that she had taken care of the night before. That was when I learned we apparently had an open bar all night. When she told me the bar tab I asked, “What about the $2000 cap?” And she had the nerve to look me in the eye and say, “You never told me you wanted a cap, I asked you guys but you never answered.” I wanted to call her a fucking cunt liar but it seemed innapropriate in a house that is basically a museum. In the room we were standing in alone was a signed Salvador Dali and several Erte’s. I mean, come on! But then she casually said, “I’ll take care of the bar tab.” And that little sentence alone has already saved my marriage.

I want to post some pictures but the photo stuff seems to have gotten mangled in the latest update. I have a picture viewer I want to use but it won’t work with this theme. So then I found a theme that worked with the photo viewer but that’s basically all that worked. So, just become my friend on Facebook or something. Gah! facebook, I can’t believe I just said that. Gag me with a spoon.

The Millionizer got all the important stuff on the registry