Bridezilla Goes to a Theme Park - and I go Argentinean

During our seven years together, Fiance and I have quaffed an awful lot of wine - and because he is good at paying attention, Fiance has used that time to accumulate an impressive amount of knowledge about different grape varieties and the foods they are best suited to. I am grateful for that, mainly because my ability to differentiate between types of vino is strictly limited to ‘ooh, that is red/white/rose’ and my choices often revolve around how much I like the name of any given brand rather than its suitability for a meal.

Also, this:

Because the knowledge would not do me any harm, and because I knew Fiance would enjoy it, I booked us in for an Argentinean wine and food event at a local restaurant. Last night finally heralded the arrival of the eagerly anticipated evening and things got off to a great start as we were greeted at the door with a glass of white, and invited to take a seat at the bar so we could enjoy the beverage whilst awaiting the arrival of the other guests.

Forty-five minutes and two glasses of wine later, we were seated at our table but still waiting for the last of the revellers to arrive. A further fifteen minutes passed with no action, and so I decided it would be safe to make a quick dash to the ladies.

It was not safe. I had just locked the door when I realised the worst case scenario was kicking into gear as I heard the chink of a wine glass that signalled the start of the wine spiel. This was awkward. I had shoes on that became as loud as gunshots when combined with the wooden flooring adorning the establishment, and there was a tight path of other diners to weave through in order to get back to our table. With a confidence that can only be mustered after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, I envisaged myself making it back to our table, both subtly and elegantly, winning admiring glances from the elderly patrons whose eyes would glaze over as they cast a fond memory back to their lives as late-twenty-somethings.

That did not happen. Thanks to the combination of two glasses of wine and an empty stomach, my return to the table was neither subtle or graceful. Sounding like a rhythmical round of gunfire, I tottered back into the dining room, bumped into an empty table and knocked the menus onto the floor.

People were watching, but not in an envious, I-wish-I-was-still-that-age kind of way. I walked on as if nothing had happened and gratefully made it back to the haven of our table with a lot more noise – some of it undoubtedly the result of the combined tutting of the elderly guests at the other tables – but without the dreaded I’ve-just-walked-straight-into-a-pensioner incident.  

Some knowledge later – the only piece of which I can remember today is that cuttings from European grape vines were first introduced to Argentina in the mid-1500s – and we were poured another two glasses of different wines and asked to enjoy them with the first course that was due to arrive, and to observe how the food changed the flavour of the tipple. During the 5 minute wait between the wine arriving and the food being delivered, I’d drunk half of each of the two glasses of wine and proclaimed that one of them – a chardonnay – ‘tasted like church’.

Despite it being an inherently silly comment, this was probably the highlight of my wine-based-intelligent-chatter throughout the evening. By the end of the first course, we were 4 glasses of wine down, and only half way through the event. The main meal was preceded by another two glasses of wine. We suddenly realised why everyone else there was so old – they were all happily retired, safe in the knowledge that they didn’t have to get up early the next morning if they didn’t want to.

By the time it got to the third and final course – a triumphant vanilla and caramel cheesecake (I think) – we were both incapable of finishing the glass of mega-sweet desert wine intended to pleasure our taste buds. Our reluctance to induldge may have been due, in part, to the vast amount of wine consumed by this stage, but also accountable is the fact that the last glass was introduced as a wine made from grapes that had been left to go mouldy on the vine. I could think of a dozen better ways of endearing an audience to a particular product, and none them involve using the word ‘mould’. 

 

Despite - or may be because of - the very drunken end to the evening, we had a wonderful night. However, I can't help but feel like I didn't walk away with an enhanced knowledge of wine - unless, of course, you count my new belief that Argentinean chardonnay tastes like church, and that mouldy wine is not the perfect end to a heavily marinated meal. I suspect this was not the proprietor's intended outcome for the evening.

On that non-bombshell, let's get on to today's Bridezilla, who's having her usual bad experiences when she goes to a theme park for a day out...

Bridezilla Goes to a Game - and I get terrorised by an arachnid

We have apparently reached that time of year when the evil spider clans send their strongest members to march forwards on the dwellings of humans, armed with eight scary legs and the chief mission of finding a bolt hole from which they can commence Operation Horror on the residents of the freshly invaded houses.

Fiance and I are currently suffering such an attack, with the latest spider-gang member announcing his presence last week. The assailant elected to place himself strategically at the top of the tallest wall in the house - the one that flanks the stairs - before proceeding to sit there proudly for hours, not moving, just carefully observing whilst calmly conveying his intent.

We weren't prepared to hand over the ownership of our wall, so we needed to take action against the unwanted squatter. I set to work, assessing our options and the potential strategies we could wage in our war against the arachnid.

Plan A was the usual newspaper-based spider splat - however, thanks to his ingenius positioning in a very high, pretty much unreachable spot on the wall, there was no way I could reach the offending creature without the momentum of the swipe sending me over the railings and down the very steep stairs, where I would await the inevitable moment where the spider claimed his victory by bungee jumping onto my (probably broken) back.

Plan A was therefore swiftly ruled out. Plan B needed to eliminate the personal injury potential, and so I considered throwing something at the eight-legged monster. It would need to be a fairly solid projectile - something that had enough weight to ensure an instant squishing on contact.

I quickly deduced this was not a fool proof plan.

You see, I'm not a very good shot, and there's a good chance I'd take a chunk of plaster off the wall at a significant distance away from my intended target. Even if I had gotten close, the spider would have likely seen the giant shoe hurtling towards it and scuttled away, thus denying me my goal. So Plan B was also out, given the high probability that it would have left us with a startled, but still very much alive enemy, as well as a mark on the wall that I would forever glimpse out of the corner of my eye and jump at, convinced the dark shape signified a spider's presence.

Plan C involved a cat. This was possibly my most flawed plan yet. They are indeed masters at spider disposal, but I don't actually own a feline arachnid removal device, which presented the first significant problem. I could have borrowed a cat, but even then, I'm not entirely convinced it would have been able to scale a vertical wall to get to its target, so there was a high chance we would have still been facing a spider nonchalantly sitting in a location that is impossible to reach.

And I'm pretty sure that combining plans B and C would mean that no neighbour would let me borrow their cat again.

After consulting Fiance, we eventually opted for Plan D - which mainly revolved around us pretending the problem did not exist for the rest of the evening, and hoping the giant eight-legged spider scout would relocate itself somewhere more convenient for its demise. We slept with the bedroom door closed that night, and woke the next morning full of nervous anticipation.

Our plan failed. The evil spider disappeared and 5 days later, has successfully maintained whatever cover it has found itself. This does not mean I am satisfied. I leap out of my skin when I spot anything moving out of the corner of my eye. Even if that something is Fiance.

The problem now is the unknown, and that is far worse than our previous situation. At least for that one evening, I knew where it was. By now, the huge spider could be anywhere - hiding in a pocket maybe, just waiting to give me a nasty surprise as I dip my hand in to find an old packet of gum.

Or hiding in a bedroom based cubby hole (it was impractical to keep the door closed forever), waiting to explore and find a new home while we sleep.

Or maybe - and this is probably my greatest fear - it is just sitting and waiting for the perfect moment. The perfect moment to prove my point about why spiders are so damn scary in the first place, and why I never wish to have one living in our house.

I am half prepared for all of these things to happen to me at some point over the next few days. I am turning into a paranoid, nervous wreck who refuses to believe the wall-dwelling spider has simply slipped away quietly. If it has left the house, I am sure it will only be a temporary relief as it rallies the troops and builds a spider army who will camp out in the unreachable spot of our house.

In summary: I do not like spiders, and there is still a huge one running amok in our house.

At which point, I believe it is high time to conclude the lengthy spider-based ramblings, and move on to today's Bridezilla installment, where she has the pleasure of going to a sporting event. Obviously, it was a far from perfect day out, but at least she isn't terrorised by an unseen-but-still-out-there arachnid.

Bridezilla Moves to a New Office - and I go Bridezilla

For the first time since this blog started, I was prepared for what I was going to write about today. I had little pictures drawn, a quip or two planned in my head and the fire in my belly to put pen to paper. Or finger to keypad, more accurately. Basically, I was raring to go.

But then today happened, and everything changed - I had a new tale that I simply couldn't not tell in tonight's post. My preparation work was wasted (for this week, anyway), because I had to talk about a period of about 30 minutes this afternoon when I turned into Bridezilla for the first time.

And by that, I mean I suffered my first bout of wedding stress.

And by wedding stress, I mean wedding anger.

I was busy having a very constructive day at work when my mobile rang. It was a local number, but not one that I had saved to my phone so I was unaware as to the origin of the call. Imagine my excitement when the tinny voice on the end of the phone announced it was the bridal shop that I had ordered my beautiful, wonderful wedding dress from!

My heart was in my mouth. My dress! Surely it can't be here already?

No, it wasn't. In fact, it was very far from being here. The voice on the end of the phone started to ask if I was able to come in for the measurements for my dress. I was confused. Confusion swiftly turned to worry as a noise resembling a nervous giggle emanated from the phone, and the voice went on to confirm that they had actually got my measurements, and they were clearly marked on the piece of paper she was looking at. My worry deepened as the voice explained that the dress hadn't been ordered yet.

I quickly calculated the time that had passed since we had been into the shop and confirmed that we wished to purchase the dress that I had tried on. A wish that we confirmed by actually paying the full amount at the time. A method I had assumed meant the dress would be ordered immediately. The voice sounded uncertain as it tried to ensure my worry didn't turn into anger by politely explaining that the order form had been placed into the binder without anyone having the foresight to speak to the supplier about actually ordering it.

The voice's efforts were in vain. I had transformed from reasonable bride in a good mood to an uncalmable Bridezilla in full rage in a matter of seconds. If I was playing Buzz Word Bingo, the phrase 'bad service' would have been a frequent scorer given the number of times I managed to splutter it out in the angry rant that ensued. "My bridesmaids!" I went on to exclaim. "I can't get their dresses sorted until I have an offcut from the alterations from my dress that I can use to match colours!" Despite this being a fairly recent realisation, it became an incredibly important point for the purposes of this discussion. "I simply cannot afford to wait an additional five weeks to dress my bridesmaids, and now I have to magic the extra time out of nowhere" I continued in a haze of naivety at how Bridezilla-ish I had suddenly become "...all because of your BAD SERVICE", I finished with a satisfying flourish.

To give her credit, the voice at the end of the phone was very apologetic. And probably very embarrassed when she phoned back ten minutes later to confirm that actually, the order had been placed, but the all important piece of paper hadn't been updated to show that it had been done. In order to throw water on an unstable bride's anger, they've also requested a sample of the material from the supplier - due to arrive early next week - that I can use to get my bridesmaids' dresses sorted. I am under strict instructions to contact them if I have not heard anything by Wednesday.

While the shop hasn't shown itself in the best light, I have been reassured that my dress will not be late. However, that doesn't stop my concern about the speed at which I turned from a chilled out bride who is convinced that everything will fall into place, into a manic, furious monster who is convinced the world is crashing down when something doesn't go according to plan. I believe this means the wedding planning has officially begun (even though it has been casually underway for months). I don't think I am ready for the transformation.

I am, however, ready to post the next installment of Bridezilla, who appears to be getting more and more autobiographical as the weeks progress. Today, she is moving office, as I did this week - although fortunately, my transition was much less stressful than that suffered by our comic bride.

However, I would say that the brown lumps in the cup of tea were inspired entirely by real life... 

Bridezilla Goes for a Bike Ride - and I talk about hair accidents

I am lucky enough to not have to work Mondays, and until recently, I mainly spent them with my mum, being a lady that lunches and shops and talks wedding stuff. However, like all good things, it couldn't last forever - Mum has changed job and she is working Mondays at the new place. I am delighted for her - she always jokingly said she wanted to work at this particular place (and there is a good chance they make wedding cakes, which is excellent news for me and Fiance) - but it does mean that I now need to find ways of entertaining myself.

Today for example, I have mainly been scoffing at the poor quality of daytime TV, whilst simultaneously talking myself out of cutting a fringe into my hair (which by the way, is finally moving away from black towards a very dark brown instead - albeit very slowly). I know the sensible thing is to book myself an appointment at the hairdressers and let a professional do it, but that means enduring the mind-numbing conversation that neither of us particularly wishes to make, with the alternative being a very lengthy awkward silence if one does attempt a jabber-free wash and chop. So I have been putting that off for about... well about a year, in all honesty. But I would like a new fringe to accompany the new colour and as a result, I have only just managed to manhandle my willpower into agreeing that it is potentially a very bad idea to do it myself. This is hopefully a sign that I am finally learning some things are best left to the people who know what they're doing.

While the majority of my hair experiments have gone as planned, there are plenty in the back catalogue that have not. Like when teenage me decided that my addiction to Sun In should finally came to an end after a year and a half, and that an autumnal brown would be a much better colour instead. The very blond shade of blond that I had achieved from the lightening spray did not go autumnal brown. It went pillar box red.

That was my first ever self created hair error. I thought I would learn.

I did not. A few years of brown/black later, I decided wanted to be blond again. Hey I'd done it before, everything would be fine, right? Wrong. The last colour hadn't completely faded, but had started to grow out, which left a rather unusual result on my head. Not unexpected, now I apply logic and hindsight to the situation, but at the time I was horrified to see myself in the mirror sporting a white blond one inch strip where the naturally coloured roots had been, the remainder presenting itself as bright bright orange, and the entirety adopting a texture that can only be described as reminiscent of a straw bale.

At least if it was all one colour it would have been consistent, no matter how awful. But it felt like that white stripe was there to spite me, to remind me how stupid I was to think I was able to handle such a drastic change by myself.

Despite my own personal mishaps however, it was an incident that happened to a school friend of mine that really set the smackdown on my 'gah, do it, cut yourself a fringe' attitude. Realising her fringe was due a cut, and rather than mentioning it to her mum in order to get a trip to the hairdressers sorted, she decided to do it herself. And she sneezed just as she put scissor to hair.

While I am still not sure I have entirely quashed the voice that says 'just do it' , this tale in particular has kept me on the straight and narrow. For today anyway.

And now that my disasters are out of the way, it's on to see what is awaiting Bridezilla today as she goes for a bike ride. Things will go wrong, but at least her hair doesn't appear to have suffered any disasters...

Bridezilla Goes Camping - and I go to a party

I honestly did not know what I was going to ramble about today. Suffering from the day-after-the-day-after-the-night-before malaise, I felt done in by the time I got back from work and was convinced that my memory for all the things I could spraff about had deserted me.

Then I remembered the reason for the malaise - the work party we had this week. We're in the process of moving to a new office, and to celebrate the occasion, the company threw a launch party - complete with Important Figures from the Local Community, casino tables and a magician. I wasn't sure to what to expect from the evening and was a tad apprehensive about the whole affair, so I was delighted to find the champagne had been opened (and was already being quaffed) by the time I arrived.

By which I mean I was second in the queue to have a glass. Ahem.

Despite the potential for it being an awkward evening, a great time was had by all. The magician in particular left a lasting impression. Probably helped a lot by the fact he looked like a normal chap in a suit, rather than the image I had conjured in my head. 

 

Being of an age where I am fully aware that magic is not real (but not, apparently, of an age to realise that magicians are actually normal people who don't swoosh around in black robes) I was especially careful in watching his hands to make sure I could catch the all important moment where he makes the switch and brag about it to all and sundry. But I saw nada. Nothing. Zip. He made my engagement ring disappear (and let's be fair - it takes a fair bit of magic to persuade anyone to take off such a special piece of jewellery in the first place), before it reappeared on a keyring, disappeared again and finally turned up in a wallet. It was pretty spectacular and I'm sure I never saw him do the same trick twice (nothing to do with the amount of champagne quaffed, I promise).  I'm even considering asking the company for his details - he would be a truely awesome special guest to have wandering round the wedding guests after the speeches are done. 

And on that kind of wedding related note, it's time to move on to the adventures of Bridezilla, who today has gone on a camping trip...

Bridezilla Goes to a Gig - and my hair changes colour!

I'm pretty lazy when it comes to my hair. It sits there on top of my head, and tends to be not very exciting. But about once a year I decide to do something about it - usually as an effort to cheer myself up as autumn approaches - so I went and bought myself a hair dying kit and set to work. Being of a rather mousey brown shade naturally, I thought a couple of shades darker would do the trick nicely and opted to buy the very safe sounding 'Natural Dark Brown'. This is what I thought was going to happen:

 

This is not what I now look like. Admittedly, this is probably entirely my own fault for not reading the instructions properly, and racing ahead and slapping the bottle onto bone dry hair rather than the very clearly-specified-in-the-directions wet hair. The end result is a colour that is definitely not natural dark brown:

I have got black hair. I don't dislike it - in fact, I have actively chosen to turn my hair black before - but it is not the colour I chose this time and I therefore consider it a faux pas. A permanent faux pas that sits on top of my head, and hopefully reminds me of the importance of following instructions carefully. They are there for a reason.

So now today's little ramble is out of the way, it's time to head onwards to the latest edition of Bridezilla - this time she is off to a gig, and is sadly afflicted by the same issues that I encounter when I go to watch a favourite band play...

Bridezilla Takes a Flight - and we officially have a photographer!

The form has been signed, and the money has been paid - we have officially got ourselves wedding photographers! Two! Well, one company made up of a couple - so double the shots for the same price. Happy days indeed.

We now get to spend some time thinking about the 'pre-wedding shoot' - a (free!) chance to get used to the camera, to find out which kind of shots we like, and most importantly, to get to know the couple who'll be bossing our family and friends about on our big day. Whilst Fiance isn't quite as enthusiastic about it as I am, I have to say I think it's a really good idea. Mainly because we get to choose the location - and my one and only suggestion so far has been the wonderful Baslow Hall - the gorgeous country house hotel that we got engaged in. It was an amazing place, so any excuse to go back suits me just fine! And it just feels like it would be the perfect reminder of the start of our engagement and the fun journey it's led us on.

So, I am now sitting back and revelling in the knowledge that we have a venue, a date, a photographer and a dress. Everything else can fall into place closer to the time. This is a lovely feeling.

I shall continue to enjoy it as we arrive at the inevitable time where Bridezilla turns up with her trials, tribulations, and wedding related epiphanies.  Today, she's taking a flight - and of course, things don't go smoothly...

Bridezilla Tries to Enjoy the Garden - and I get a magic wand!

Well, Lovely Fiance has pulled an absolute blinder. He bought me one of those rather fabulous magic wand remote controls that I can use to command the various electrical gadgets located in our living room. Much as I love it, things haven't exactly gone to plan so far - it seems to be incompatible with the cable box (which is The Most Important One that lets us chose what channel we'd like to watch) but it is very happy telling the TV to shut up, or to speak up, or to switch itself off. I can't use an impressive swish to turn it back on again yet, but that is by-the-by. There is always the real remote control to rectify the situation in such events, and I'm sure Fiance doesn't mind the unexpected 'Off' moments too much.

Had a lovely day out with Mum today - although I made my regular shopping mistake of buying heavy things early on in the trip: books, new bedding and toiletries followed by a couple of hours carting it all around. Ouch. My arms will no doubt feel it tomorrow, but my soul will be singing because it likes it when I buy new things. There was lots of wedding browsing too - tiaras and shoes and bridesmaids dresses. It's such fun looking at all the pretty things. I even enjoyed trawling through 5 boxes worth of stickers in a craft shop trying to find additional pretty bits for making the invitations. My inspiration for getting them made has returned, and I will transform into a human production line. Tomorrow - I've had lots of writing to do today, and it's getting late... So definitely tomorrow. I promise.

And so we move towards today's Bridezilla, where she decides to make the most of her garden with unintended consequences:

Bridezilla Goes to the Shed - and we are so close to getting a photographer!

Well, it has been a productive few days, on reflection. Most importantly, we are within an envelope of securing a photographer. The less experienced contender came round last night and talked us through everything - we were already pretty sure we had found our photographer but when we saw an email confirming everything discussed had been sent the same night, the deal was sealed. You can't beat a bit of efficiency. All we need to do is to sign on the dotted line and send it off with the deposit, and the only thing stopping us from doing it immediately is the lack of an envelope - so Fiance is tasked with the job of securing some tomorrow and then our photographer will be sorted! It is something to be excited about. 

In other news, it turns out that I am not a local radio celebrity after the impromptu interview the other day. Mum let me know that she'd heard the article, and they'd managed to find other people to replace me and my blinding insight into modern life. I guess our not-throwing-a-lot-of-food-away lifestyle didn't fit in with their people-who-throw-a-lot-of-food-away premise. Either that, or he felt guilty for lying about the contents of our bin. C'est la vie I guess.

And so we march forward to the next instalment of the comic - today, Bridezilla heads out to the shed, and meets a slug who is to be her downfall...

Bridezilla Goes for a Meal - and I go out for lunch

Only got time for a flying post today - which is probably quite fortunate as I haven't got a massive amount to ramble about. 

I did get stopped and interviewed by the local radio station while I was heading home after a lovely lunch with Mum - the guy was doing a piece about household waste, and asked if he could go through my bin and see what food waste we had. We did pretty well - a quarter of a pint of milk was, I believe, the only genuine item in there but for the sake of artistic license he also said he could see some eggs and a half eaten pizza. I suspect he saw an empty egg box and the picture of a pizza on a box and decided to elaborate, but I wasn't going to call him on it because I was too excited at the prospect of being on radio. So excited, in fact, that I forgot to ask when it was going to be on. I may miss my 60 seconds of (local) fame, but at least we got some free binbags.

I mentioned before that I went out for lunch with my mum - completely coincidentally,  the Bridezilla comic going up today is also about going out for a meal - fortunately, my experience was much more pleasant than that of our tragic hero...

Bridezilla Cooks a Meal - and I go to a Wedding Fair

Wedding Fair done. It was huge, and busy and I undoubtedly came out a little grumpier than when I went in (I suspect Fiance would argue that it was a lot grumpier, but let's not split hairs over such matters). There were human traffic jams everywhere, and the fairly narrow aisles between stalls weren't helped by the giant baby-carrying buggies, whose owners think the ideal place to stop is smack bang in the center of a crossroad filled with people trying to move every which way. Plus there was no champagne to greet us on arrival - we were there at 11am and were faced with a sea of empty glasses. The brides-to-be of Yorkshire clearly like to have a tipple in the morning. I mean, good going and all that ladies, but damn you for leaving us none.

Despite it being a rather more hectic (and rather less champagne quaffing) experience than anticipated, the visit was definitely productive and we're very pleased we went. We found two photographers we liked who are both available on our big day. Here the quandary starts. One is pretty new to the profession - been doing weddings for a year, and doesn't have a studio to work from. That concerns us a bit. But you get a pre-wedding photo session, a free canvas print and two photographers for the day - and they were lovely people, we both really liked them. They also had the most amazing album - the cover was so soft, I swear I would stroke it like a pet.

The other contender is your typical wedding photographer - cheesy funny and very easy to get along with. He also had nice albums, but I wouldn't really want to stroke any of the ones he had to offer. This guy's big selling point is definitely his experience, but it's a big enough thing that it could well sway our decision.

So we still technically don't have a photographer, but we do know there are people who we like that are available on our big day, and that we will have someone booked by the end of the week. This is good. I shall use this experience as positive reinforcement next time someone looks at me aghast while proclaiming "WHAT?! You haven't got  ________ sorted out yet". No, no I haven't but I'm not worrying, because you tried to make me panic last time, and it turned out I was right to remain calm all along.

Unless of course we've only got a week to go, and realised that we forgot to find anything for Fiance to wear. Their astonishment would probably be justified in that event.

Anyway after that rather lengthy update,  it's on to the seventh installment of Bridezilla and her bad days made better. Today she's trying to cook a meal and... well, things go worse than usual.

Bridezilla Tries to Leave the House - it is the weekend after all

Yay! Friday is finally here, and it's great to welcome it with a giant hug from our open arms. Fiance  is watching the England game, and in time honoured fashion in our household, I shall distract myself with writing and marinating myself in a lager or two - 'drunk' is my most preferred method for observing football - and if I concentrate hard enough on this post, I might even be able to ignore the one-way discussion Fiance will be aiming at the telly-box for the next 90 minutes.

We're off to the Wedding Fair on Sunday - I'd only heard about it through word of mouth so took the time to check out the website earlier today. Boy, am I glad I did. Still feeling like a wedding newbie, I was astounded to read that you had to pay for the privilege of entry - although with hindsight, I see that I was naive to think that anything related to weddings might not cost us anything.

Navigating away from the main page, however, I stumbled across a delightful piece of news - brides don't have to pay anything for entry! I signed up straight away and printed off my complimentary ticket. I'm guessing the engagement ring, and bored looking man in tow will be sufficient proof of my impending bridal status when we get there. And I can totally handle the two days worth of solid spam I'm bound to get after exchanging my email address for free entry (I will, of course, unsubscribe as soon as I have returned home after enjoying the aforementioned free entry).

Fiance is very happy about going - on top of the X-box gadget on the way home, we discovered we will be greeted with canapes and champagne. This is a great idea from the organisers to placate and relax the hubbies-to-be before they are dragged around a myriad of stalls, and demonstrations and... well, I don't really know what else to expect. I just hope I don't see my dress there - I would be incapable of responding to it in some way or other, and I know Fiance would notice and suspect something. I just have to pray we don't meet - because for one day only, the dress will be my nemesis.

I guess I've returned to the aimless rambling there, but eventually I have reached the purpose of the post - so it's time to roll out the next Bridezilla, where she is trying the simple task of leaving the house...

Bridezilla goes for a drive

I've checked in late today, so I'm going to skip the aimless rambling that has accompanied every post since the blog has started and head straight into the aimless scribbling. I will, however, take the time to say that today's installment was actually inspired by some rather unfortunate happenings to me and the new car (which Fiance and I are still deeply infatuated with) that have occurred over the last few days... yes, Bridezilla gets autobiographical:

Bridezilla Goes to the Cinema - while I cook sausages

Well, what do you know. Apparently, "because I am too busy trying to be funny" is not a recognised as a valid excuse by the 'Why You Should Cook Dinner Tonight' panel (which is comprised solely of Lovely Fiance). So I started writing this post whilst having to make frequent dashes through to the kitchen to make sure I'm not burning the house down by neglecting the frying sausages. For the record, it went well - the house is still standing and the sausages were lovely.

It has been a GOOD DAY today- I went back to an article I'd pitched at Cracked.com with the intention of tidying it up in preparation for this week's editorial meeting, only to find that it had been accepted while I wasn't looking. I love surprises like that one. So rather than doing wedding things, I've been busy writing, and messing about with GIMP. (I guess I should specify that's GIMP the photo-manipulation program rather than anything sordid).

We are definitely going to a wedding fayre this weekend though - I have convinced Fiance it is a good idea (suggesting that we stop on the way home to buy a gadget for the new X-Box was, I think, the winning manoeuvre). And we ARE going to secure the services of a photographer. See, there is nothing to worry about. Well, there won't be after the weekend at least.

So that's more than enough rambling on my part - the next installment of Bridezilla is well overdue:

Bridezilla Goes to Work - and so do I

Thanks to the birth of this blog falling on a weekend, today has been my first day of blogging and working (not at the same time, I hasten to add!) - it's been a long day at the office, and I've been exhausted which hasn't helped. Needless to say, I have done nothing wedding related. However, that doesn't make for a great post, so before throwing out the next installment of Bridezilla, I figured I might as well share one of my favourite wedding stories so far.

Mum is rather excited about the forthcoming wedding, and I will always recall a discussion we had not long after the engagement where we deliberated over the guest list and who would be invited. There was a brief lull in the conversation after I'd gone into detail naming every relative I could think of to ensure no-one had cause to feel neglected. After a comfortable silence, my mum asked a question which struck me as rather straightforward for her usually cautious approach: "Will you be having children?"

As soon as my blood reached the decision that my face had turned a sufficient shade of red, it returned to the various parts of my body that allowed me to stutter a response along the lines of "Bit early...I mean... not no... but... straighaway... too soon".

Mum looked shocked before giggling a reply: "Actually, I was asking if you'd be inviting children to the wedding".

Yep, that sure explained a lot. This has quickly become a family favourite tale - I'm sure I'll be hearing it for the rest of my days.

Aaaaanyway, let me get back to the purpose of this post by finishing with the next comic, in which Bridezilla heads off for a day's gainful employment...

Bridezilla goes for a Walk, and a little bit more about me

Well, here I am checking in for post number two. I don't really know what I'm doing here so I figured a good place to start would be a bit more background info on little ol' me before heading into comic number 2.

I have slightly more than 6 months left of my twenties - and a little more than that left until the wedding. Yes I'm getting married - I guess that's why my blog has ended up taking a brial-ish theme. Sadly, Bridezilla is not actually far away from how I find I am living life at the moment - a stress at the merest little problem life has to throw at me can be quelled by a quick online view of my newly ordered dress, or a cheeky scan of our wedding venue website. I am basically refusing to panic about wedding related things, even though with 8 months to go we still don't have a photographer (I am told this should be a very worrisome situation to find myself in) and that there are only 5 of 80 invitations made. I think I would start to worry if we were in the same situation with 8 weeks to go, but at present I am relentlessly optimistic that everything will be FINE.

Excellent. So, now the little installment about me is done, I think it's time to move on and see how Bridezilla is doing. Happily, the weather looks lovely, and our bride-to-be has decided she's going to go for a walk. Surely, nothing could go wrong?

Welcome to Bridezilla - a Comic where Weddings Save the Day!

Hello, and welcome to my blog - if you've managed to stumble here, I hope you enjoy what is, essentially, a stupid idea of mine. 

After combining a day spent browsing internet comics (when I should probably have been doing wedding-related things), a confidence boosting beverage and some mispent time in MS Paint, a small seed began to take root and thus began the birth of Bridezilla - a run-of-the-mill chick who turns monster when the every day annoyances of life build into a crescendo of rage that can be soothed by one thing, and one thing only.

You see, unlike the typical frenzy frequently suffered by an engaged and actively-planning-the-wedding female of the species, Bridezilla is actually soothed by unexpectedly stumbling across matrimonial goods - she relishes prompts of her forthcoming marriage, rather than it sending her into a panic about the many things she hasn't yet gotten round to organising.

For example, just take a look at what happens when Bridezilla goes to the supermarket to pick up some groceries: