Everyone thinks they know everything there is to know about me. They don’t. As previously established, they know nothing. I however, know everything.
In as much, from time to time I may find it in my blackened and dead heart to enlighten the few souls who stumble across my wretched page here on BTD looking for a good laugh at my expense. I am tickled pink to have the chance to shatter your pre conceived image about me. I have all summer to do it. That way, come September, with all of this soul sharing, hopefully you won’t want to look at me and throw up in your mouth.
Unlike my children.
But I digress…
As some of you may or may not know, I was a teenaged runaway bride. I knew it all, and Arthur was a lucky bastard. (A play on words, of course.) We were young, gifted, and in love! An impulsive craving for pancakes with real maple syrup, as opposed to that dreck you get in New York diners, led these two young “G’s” crusin’ up the east coast,” and before I know it, I’m a child bride, about to wed be at this special and sacred place…
It was perfect, one stop shopping. The cherry on the cake would have been if I didn’t have to get out of the car. But we all know that proper drive thru weddings are in Vegas, and that Daniel wouldn’t have been happy to set the tone for shot gun weddings for generations to come with in our kind. From what I have heard from the Primatech grapevine, Niki Sanders and D.L. Hawkins nuptial at the Pink Church of Elvis and what have you was bad enough. Nothing says true love more than Daisy Dukes, red platform shoes, and trucker hats. Not that Arthur and I were ones to talk, but we certainly didn’t mean to start a trend.
I have spared my sons the details of my DAAAAAAYYYYYY; my camouflage inspired dress, bouquet of dandelions picked right from the store parking lot, their father’s “I HITCHED MY HUSSY AT HUSSEY’S” t-shirt, which he proudly wore until it stank so badly I finally suggested he let it burn as an offering to any God that would listen to us in forty years time.
The fine folks at Hussey’s were kind enough to throw us an impromptu shower that I will never forget. It was small and simple, just desert…
and drinks…
.
All in all, it was a lovely day. Of course, when we returned home my parents were furious. Certainly what we did was the opposite of keeping up with the Jonses’. But Arthur and I didn’t care. Screw the Jonses’, their powerless souls served us no purpose. It was a new era, and it was going to be keeping up with the Petrelli’s time! I simply handed my parents their ding dongs in a paper bag and told them to give me my heir loomed pearls! I was leaving with my husband!!
Forty years later, here we are.
Yes, that was the plan alllll along, “putting the FUN in dysfunctional.” Now, please pass me my can of Schlitz and my package of white powered sugar Little Debbie Donut Gems. I have the memory of a blissful marriage to celebrate.
Bitter? No, not me. Not at all!