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painsthee
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Name: Steph
Birthday: 4/28/1978
Gender: Female
Interests: Ringing that bell like I'm trying to medal in the Pavlovian slobber olympics. Euphemistically speaking. Also, polysyllables.
Expertise: Tying cherry stems in knots with my tongue, punctuating correctly, and perfecting anorexia of my inner optimist.
Occupation: lighting designer
Industry: entertainment
Message: message me
AIM:  etherealsibilant
Member Since:
2/21/2007
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| A brief list of things for which i am particularly thankful right now:
my shiny new huuuusband
my huuuusband sleeping late so i can catch up on the vampire diaries unmocked
punkin pie
my awesome mother
my awesome inlaws
the tv show supernatural
mah kitteh
kitchenaid mixers
quiet mornings with cups of hot coffee
friends that feel like home
and
hot showers--which is where i am headed right now.
Happy turkey day, gobble gobble!
P.S. Favorite Thanksgiving movie scene ever: when the turkey comes back to life in the kitchen in Son in Law after Pauley Shore scared it unconcisous.
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| Dear Set Hairdresser:
To put it mildly and practically downright politely, you suck. You messed everyone up, but the true travesty is Jackson Rathbone, who is a tasty hunk of manflesh, or at least was, until you got your throwback-to-farrah-fawcett-feathered-man-hair hands all over him. Please change careers, stat.
s-TRESS-edly yours,
Steph
Dear Director, AD, Production Designer, et. al.,
You saw what the Hairdresser did and let him/her get away with it? Shame on you. Shame.
-Steph
Dear Costume Designer,
I mostly enjoyed your work, but WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED with Alice's outfit when in the Volturi's chamber? Why did you suddenly decide to raid your grandmother's closet to dress her for that scene? BAD COSTUME DESIGNER. NO COOKIE.
Disappointedly yours,
Steph
Dear Kristen Stewart,
You are too fucking adorable. So adorable, in fact, that you give me a complex. You are perfect and I never, ever will be. And you have *the* perfect eyebrows. I am mesmerized by your eyebrows. They are two tiny works of art. Also, I was glad to see that your acting skills have expanded to include more than looking confusedly at something while pushing your hair behind your perfect ear. You were almost pleasant. Good for you.
Enviously yours,
Steph
Dear Bella Swan,
You are a heartless bitch, and selfish to boot. I am not surprised that you toss over warm, kind, loving Jacob for the creepy, stalkerish, controlling Edward, but still, fuck you.
Disgustedly yours,
Steph
Dear Jacob,
If you are looking for a gal who believes nice guys do deserve to get the girl, give me a call.
Love,
Steph
Dear Taylor Lautner,
You are lovely, but I hope that was all the result of protein shakes and not some terrible drugs that shriveled your manhood like sundried tomatoes.
Love,
Steph
Dear Emily (or, more accurately, Dear Props Designer),
IF IT IS THE SIZE OF A CABBAGE IT IS NOT A MUFFIN, okay?
Love,
Steph
Dear Director,
Could you possibly have made Edward any more homosexual without actually putting him in a dress?
Fabulously yours,
Steph
Dear Death Cab for Cutie,
You are probably my favorite band, and I am just not sure if I should be happy or sad that you have a song in the new Twilight movie.
Confusedly yours,
Steph | | |
| Day before the wedding:
Wedding rings did not arrive by UPS as promised. Manufacturer had lost the order from the retailer.
Got a phone call from Nashville PD at 8:00am that my house had been broken in to. They caught the guys and we got most of our stuff back, though Zeb's really nice guitars had been scratched, the house was tossed so was a total disaster (not to mention the queasiness of thugs having rifled through my underwear drawer), and the back door was totally smashed in.
Oh, they also stole my perfume, a bunch of worthless jewelry (my class ring, for instance, which isn't even made of gold) and they stole A FROZEN PIZZA. Seriously. The policeman on the phone asked if I could identify my pizza. Turns out I could.
Saturday morning my mom went to the ER with severe stomach pain. She made it back for the wedding, slightly drugged. (They have done further testing and are waiting on result to diagnose her problem, but they think it's diverticulitis.)
Saturday afternoon, the wedding went off without a hitch. Perfect weather. Awesome guests.
Sunday as we untied power the main breaker at mom's house decided to give up the fight and broke. It was 30 years old, so it makes sense, but we then had to spend the rest of the day installing a new power panel on her pole outside at the meter.
But, for better or worse, as they say, we are married.
And that part? That part is awesome. | | |
| Here are my parents just after their wedding in 1977:
They got hitched at the courthouse and had a reception at mom's aunt's house for close friends.
Saturday, Zeb and I get hitched.
I really never thought I would marry.
But here I am. Life brings the unexpected.
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| Oh, hai.
Still here. Still crazed.
Zeb and I are at the official point where we keep turning to each other and asking, 'Is this damn wedding over yet?'
I am behind in my classwork. I am swamped with work work.
But, underneath it all, I am happy, and I suppose that's what matters.
I *am* tired of people asking about wedding crap. It's not that I mind, it's just that it seems to be all anyone cares about. I am way more interested in Isabella Whitney and the place of her voice in creating a female literary tradition in Early Modern England. That's way more interesting to me than how I plan to wear my hair, you know?
But, in case anyone wonders, here are ten random wedding facts, and then we can dispense with all this nonsense, ok?
1. I am wearing white chuck taylors under the dress.
2. I have no idea how I am wearing my hair. It will probably involve hot rollers.
3. No, I don't want to borrow your pearls.
4. I am changing out of the dress after dinner so that I can actually boogie down and not fall over myself all night.
5. We aren't going on a honeymoon right away, and have no official plans for it yet.
6. Our friend Ryan--who introduced us--is performing the ceremony. No, he;s not a minister, he's a chef.
7. No, I'm not excited about the wedding. I am excited about the marriage. The wedding is just kind of a pain. I like the party part, if people would stop trying to make it such a big fucking deal.
8. People who neglect to RSVP--particularly when I have included a SASE in the invite--can all suck my (metaphorical) balls. And furthermore, they can stand, because I'm not renting them a chair.
9. No cake. Cupcakes. Deal.
10. Yes, we have considered what to do if it rains. Considering that's what it does 59% of the time in TN in the fall, we did amazingly think to consider it, thanks.
Bonus: Stop asking about future plans for my uterus, goddammit.
I sound very crotchety, and I know people are just excited for us, but I sort of wish some of that excitement could rub off on me, you know? Plus I am not a squealing kind of gal in general, so I can't really get it up for favors and china and a half dozen bridesmaids. I picked what I like, you get what you get. Come or don't.
See, there's the crotchety again.
Sigh.
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