So, in the ridiculous life that is my own, I’ve decided to revisit my old blog posts for about ten days and it turns out – most of my blog posts are embarrassing.
Yet, I am posting them anyway.
Sparty the Dog: Don’t do it, Carrie! It’s not worth it.
Sorry, Sparty, an authentic writer has to do what she has to do. Plus, I need to blog.
I was in seventh grade.
My stepfather had just died. It was my brother’s wedding.
I was totally in love with Tim, my much older (at an ancient 22) step-cousin. He had nice hair and really white teeth. That’s all I needed for it to be love. I am easy to please.
Was two sizes too big. I lost a lot of weight because my dad died.
Was this Pepto-Bismol pink color of evil.
Required a hoop skirt. Yes. Yes. I am serious. The hoop skirt became part of Confederate symbology and was protested in 2015, but this was New Hampshire so I don’t know why it was part of the dresses.
Had fake flowers for shoulder straps.
Was tiered like a wedding cake.
It vaguely looked like this:
Crossed with this:
Right before the wedding, at the house of the parents of the bride, I put on my horrible gown.
The dress sagged everywhere, including where my breasts were (still are, actually. My breasts have not. I repeat: HAVE NOT moved) and the maid of honor was trying to duct tape the side in. It was frantic because I looked bad. SO bad.
The taping didn’t really work and the tape was scratching because it wasn’t fashion tape, but was actually duct tape.
Everyone gave up.
“It’s okay,” the Mother of the Bride said through gritted teeth. “You look fine.”
The Mother of the Bride was not a good liar.
Then when we were heading out to the car I picked up their dog, Midge, for comforting dog snuggles because I needed them. It turned out you were not supposed to pick up Midge. Why?
Midge peed all over the dress. There was this dark stain, going down the side of my pink atrocity. My cousin Tim was totally going to see me in this dress that now had PEE on it! PEE!
Cue: Mother of the Bride swearing.
Cue: Maid of Honor yelling, “YOU PICKED UP MIDGE! JESUS! JESUS!”
They rushed me inside, dabbed at me with a face cloth and then dried me with a hair dryer and sprayed a whole lot of Lysol on me. It was fragrant and killed airborne bacteria, but it didn’t mask the smell of the Midge.
Me: I smell like pee.
Mother of the Bride: YOU. SMELL. FINE.
Father of the Bride: She smells like piss.
Cue: Maid of Honor spraying lilac perfume all over me, which combines with the Lysol.
It was not a pleasant smell.,
So, I went to the wedding smelling like Lysol, lilac and pee. My super cute step cousin asked me to dance. I was in Heaven. He leaned in. I was in Super Heaven of Awesomeness. My step cousin of the handsome hair was leaning in. I am ready to die of bliss.
He sniffed the air. “Does it smell like urine?”
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BLOG BREAK – SORT OF
It’s a big holiday week here and so Carrie is going to be taking a bit of a blog break for the next two weeks. There will be a new podcast next Tuesday, but other than that? It’s a little time for Carrie’s brain to recharge and rest. So, she’ll be posting random blogs from her past. Thank you for understanding!
WRITING AND OTHER NEWS
I do art stuff. You can find it and buy a print here.
People call it a cross between Harry Potter and Percy Jackson but it’s set in Maine. It’s full of adventure, quirkiness and heart.
The Spy Who Played Baseball is a picture book biography about Moe Berg. And… there’s a movie out now about Moe Berg, a major league baseball player who became a spy. How cool is that?
It’s awesome and quirky and fun.
FLYING AND ENHANCED
Men in Black meet Buffy the Vampire Slayer? You know it. You can buy them hereor anywhere.
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