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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Age 23, living in sin in Twickenham with Cheesy
Likes
Movies
Books
Writing
Theatre
Hugs
Kittens
Chess
Scrabble (mostly beating Cheesy's butt)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Dislikes
Vegetables
Arguments
Cleaning
Trashy TV
Pretensions
Public Transport
Pets
Rabbits-Bambi, Fern, Sooty, Pippa-all deceased
Dog-Sammy-deceased :(
Fish-CatFlap-recently (and finally!) deceased
Cat-Tiggy-still scratching
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Technically Rachel
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Saturday, January 07, 2006
So – Fat Ass (my sister) has asked me to be her maid of honour at her wedding later this year. Exciting stuff, huge compliment, big thanks for the honour and all that, except… I have to conclude that my sister must actually hate me. I mean, have you SEEN all the shit that the maid of honour has to do? (Maid being the very operative word here).
Organising the bridesmaids, paying for my own dress (Warning: Will not wear yellow), doing invitations, labelling party favours, hold the bride’s bouquet during the ceremony, hold the groom’s wedding ring (Great! Something I can lose!), sign the marriage certificate, generally fluff and preen the bride all friggin day, dance with the best men (you’d better pick a cute one, Billy Zane – or at least a tall one), help clean up after the reception (really sensing the maid vibe here).
In fact, if anyone else has a problem/question, guess who they call?
Organising the hen party (oh fun fun fun), organising the party guests, keeping them entertained, making a toast (my sister wants me and Popo to make a speech. About her. Within a few minutes of each other. Girl’s crazy). Just mainly mostly organising everything.
Oh, oh – and the big one. Helping the bride get dressed and to the church, on time. Sigh. I should just shoot myself in the head right now.
*Makes note to go to GP and get a large dose of valium in advance*
....
*Makes another note not to have any sharp implements around on the day*
In fact the one good thing about being the MOH seems to be an almost 100% guarantee of getting laid – which I have anyway, so it’s kind of a void. Oh, and of course the whole sisterly love and honour thing – cause obviously it’s really a wonderful thing. (she hates me, she hates me, this is her revenge for calling her Fat Ass and that embarrassing incident one Easter when I was 9 and used a family meal as a forum to humiliate her, this is my punishment).
Obviously I will do a fabulous job and create the most perfect MOH atmosphere ever known to man. Will make the Fat Ass proud!
*Makes note not to call sister "Fat Ass" on her Wedding Day*
Dresses that sister should not pick if she expects me to turn up
  
Going For This Look:
  
(Sofa to be included - I'm gonna need it!)
8:51 pm
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