Our Wedding Music

On December 8, 2012, Boyfriend Fiance became Hubster.  It really was the wedding of my dreams--don't know that I can say "our" dreams since Hubster hasn't been dreaming of his wedding like I have.  For me, though, everything was perfect.

One of my favorite components of the wedding was the music.  It should come as no surprise that, for ceremony and reception, Hubster and I had our hands in every bit of the music.  We made the final decision for every major song and hymn and most of the dance music at the reception.  We believe that music frames an event so we put so much thought into each of our choices and quite honestly, I wouldn't change a single thing (except for maybe adding "Brown-Eyed Girl" to the "Do Not Play" list for the DJ).  I do have to give a special thanks to my Dad and the music director and organist at his church, without whom the ceremony would not have been as awesome as it was.  While Hubster and I made final choices, that's not say our first ideas were the greatest.  And we definitely wouldn't have known the epicness of our recessional without them, nor would we have gotten the musicians we did.

So that I may remember, and have easy future access to, our wedding songs, I've compiled a list of what I know we picked and played.  Obviously I don't remember every song played at the reception but there are a few I remember being big hits for everyone and big hits for a few that I was surprised DJ agreed to play.  Here are the major songs:

Pre-Ceremony
We had a wonderful harpist, Mary Jane D'Arville, who played our prelude music.

Clair de Lune by Debussy

O Holy Night, with soloist from the church choir.

Ceremony
We had some incredible musicians for our ceremony.  In addition to the extremely talented organist at my church, we had an amazing trumpeter, Brian Strawley, Assistant Principal Trumpet with the Richmond Symphony, and a second organist for the recessional, the incredible Michael Simpson.  We also had members of our church's choir who sang the descant of the hymn we sang during the ceremony.

Prior to Pastor and Groom's Entrance:  Gottfried Reiche's Fanfare

Bridal Party Entrance:  Trumpet Voluntary by Jeremiah Clarke

Bride's Entrance:  Te Deum Prelude by Marc-Antoine Charpentier

Hymn:  Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah by William Williams
--Used an arrangement by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and had church choir members in the balcony for the descant on the third verse.  Loved it.  Giggled like a little girl when my Balcony Angels kicked in.

Recessional:  Toccata from 5th Organ Symphony by Charles-Marie Widor
--My Dad actually suggested this awesome piece.  It was just wow.

Reception
Parents' Entrance: Top Gun Anthem

Bridal Party Entrance: Goodbye Horses by Q. Lazzarus
--Uh yes, our bridal party--including flower girl and ring bearers--DID enter our reception to the song to which Buffalo Bill tucks it and dances

Bride & Groom Entrance: I Believe In A Thing Called Love by The Darkness
--We walked out to the second chorus, ensuring that we got the "Guitar!"

Bride & Groom's First Dance:  I Am Your Man performed by Ryan Shaw

Father & Daughter Dance:  April in Paris by Count Basie's Orchestra
--There are two reasons why I picked this song for my Dad and me.  When I was little, my dad and I actually danced to this song in the living room with me standing atop his feet...and he hates to dance.  It's also featured in Blazing Saddles, one of our all-time favorite movies.

Last Song:  Remember You're a Womble by The Wombles

Some Reception Favorites That I Remember
Tanuk Tanuk Tun by Daler Mehndi
--Of course.

I'll Be by Edwin McCain

I'll Make Love To You by Boyz II Men

Poison by Bell Biv Devoe

White Horse by Laid Back

Here Without You by Three Doors Down
--One of Hubster's and my songs while we dated long-distance

Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers

This Is How We Do It by Montell Jordan

Tubthumping by Chumbawumba

Regulate by Warren G featuring Nate Dogg

Shots by LMFAO featuring Lil Jon

Apache by Sugarhill Gang

Photograph by Def Leppard
--For the Groom & Best Man

Talk that Talk by Rihanna

Blow by Ke$ha
--Hubster loves him some Ke$ha

Get Low by Lil Jon & The Eastside Boyz
--Appropriate? The question remains.  The DJ played the radio edit as requested by Hubster and me, but did WE sing said version?  Perhaps not.  Regardless, we had a great deal of people pointing to windows and walls...

Wobble by VIC
--The only group dance we allowed.

Footloose by Kenny Loggins
--Contrary to popular belief, this was not a Mother/Son dance.  Hence, why I was out there too.

Stayin Alive by Bee Gees
--Ensuring J-Friend dances for decades now

Boogie Shoes by KC and The Sunshine Band
--We did not request this song, but it's a favorite because my 4-year-old nephew specifically requested to dance with me during this song :-)

The DJ did not play any Katy Perry, much to Hubster's chagrin...nor did he play Motownphilly, much to mine, but we were thrilled otherwise.  I hope that by putting some of these on here, I'll be able to have clearer memories since the request list I have contains songs he didn't play.  There are songs I know he played, songs I know he did not play (aforementioned, along with I Would Do Anything For Love, Ruff Ryders Anthem, I Just Want To Celebrate and Tonight (I'm Loving You), You Dropped a Bomb on Me, Bohemian Rhapsody), and songs I cannot remember if he played or not, which, I gotta say, is the most frustrating.  Do I really remember if we were "Woo!"ing during Ms. Jackson or am I making that up?  Did I dance to Gonna Make You Sweat or am I thinking about how it would have been cool to dance to Gonna Make You Sweat?  Did we hear Nelly?  Did we Shoop?  I may never know...

If I may make one wedding suggestion:  Don't worry about most of the details.  If your food is good and your music is good, your wedding will be fun.  Period.

I Once Lost A Tooth. While Laughing.

I would like to preface this story with a note that my teeth have never been great. I got a lot of cavities as a child. In part due to generally weak teeth and in part due to the fact that I ate sweets and really liked getting cavities filled because nitrous was awesome. Regardless of how often I brushed, however, my teeth were just weak. When I was wee, one of my baby teeth had to be pulled because it rotted. A “dead tooth” I think it was called. I had to have a procedure kind of like a root canal for baby teeth.


I think I just realized how gross that is. Back then it was in-depth oral surgery so I had a blast but now I realize…huh, rotten teeth are gross. I brush my damn teeth, I promise. I did then and I do now. Now I just have fewer of them to do…

In the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college one of my teeth fell apart. I can’t remember if I had chipped it or cracked it or what but it, yeah, fell apart. I was upstairs in the breakroom at work, eating frozen yogurt not usually known for its tooth-shattering abilities when my tooth crumbled in my mouth and I bit a fragment of my own tooth, which is quite jarring to do by the way. Your teeth meet all the time, but you don’t typically get tooth caught between teeth. It’s uncomfortable. I soon went to the dentist and he put some sort of temporary crown on it to bide time before my inevitable root canal that awaited me. Hooray! Sometime during sophomore year that crown fell apart and there was little left of my #2 upper right molar and it was time I finally met my root canal, who had been waiting for me impatiently.

Fast forward eight years. Now-Husband and I went with some friends to their parents’ lake property to spend the day on the water and the evening by the fire and/or beer pong table. That day I made the decision that because I could wakeboard 8 years prior, I could totally master the activity again or at least be able to stand up. Turns out, I could do neither. I, could, however, let go of the rope really fast and not get dragged behind the boat, which is an incredibly usefull skill to have for someone learning water sports. I learned the importance of this after watching The Great Outdoors a few hundred times. Anyway, I had tried a few times and really only succeeded at moving quickly from a sitting position to a supine position on the water in a jerky arch-like motion. I decided to give it one last go and it was on this last attempt at being an awesome wakeboarder that I was able to get up out of the water and stand up on the board. It was exciting. For split seconds the wind was in my hair and I was being pulled awkwardly behind the boat. Since you begin wakeboarding with the board turned sideways, I attempted to let the board turn to face the correct direction, but I could not possibly have executed that move any worse and I fell. Hard. I smacked the water with my face before any other part of my body hit. I’m not exactly sure how my eyes stayed on. When I was finally able to right myself, I called the day done and managed to get back to the boat using whatever the submerged marine version of limping would be. Once on the boat, I realized that my head had smacked the water so hard, I lost all 6 of my earrings and my elastic headband. I get back to shore and realize I will never be a cool wakeboarder. Funny stories are told and it appears the wakeboarding incident is forgotten.

Later on in the evening, we’re sitting around the fire and I’m doing nothing laughing. Not eating dinner. Not chewing gum. Not even having silky-smooth yet somehow treacherously tooth-shattering frozen yogurt. Not even talking. Yet there I was, listening to whoever was speaking when I felt something hit my tongue. I reached in and pulled out my molar.  I looked at Now-Husband and said astoundedly (it’s a word), “My tooth just fell out.” At first his face showed mild humor and confusion because surely those weren’t the actual words that had come out of my mouth.  Alas, he realized I had indeed actually spoken the words “My tooth just fell out” and his face quickly turned to reflect an obvious feeling of horror as I showed him the tooth that seconds before was in my head. It wasn’t broken. It wasn’t a piece of tooth. It was a tooth. I had a tooth in my hand and a hole in my head. He soon found himself in the extremely uncomfortable position of wanting to laugh at me but also being totally humiliated that this overweight but okay chick he had brought with him was actually a back-woods bumpkin who can’t even keep her teeth in her head.  It was as though in his view I was suddenly sporting flip-flops that were too thin to contain my breadloaf-like feet while donning a camoflage hat that held my frizzy hair in a ponytail to keep it out of my face while I spit into a bottle and talked about my cabin in the holler that didn't have a working well but was overrun by numerous goats and chickens.

A few months later, horrified Now-Husband got to be the one to drive me to my surgery to get the hole cleaned out and the remnants of the root canal removed before setting an appointment for an implant. He thoroughly enjoyed getting to see me completely out of it on whatever they gave me to put me to sleep. He had quite a laugh calling my mother to tell her everything was okay while I bobbed about in the passenger seat absolutely certain that I was making total sense but not knowing why he found my completely rational statements to be hilarious. Apparently what I said and what he heard were different but whatever. He had a lot of fun with it until later on when I was sober and could tell him the harsh reality: there would be no implant. The oral surgeon said he didn’t often put dental implants there for tooth #2 because there’s really no need and it’s a waste of money. He would if it was tooth #3 or more but since you can’t really see tooth #2 anyway, I was getting no implant. Realization set in and the look of horror and confusion returned. Now-Husband does, in fact, have a Now-Wife who is a back-woods bumpkin who can’t keep her teeth in her head. I’m actually missing a tooth because it fell out of my head while I was engaging in the strenuous activity of laughter. It didn’t fall out when I face-planted on the water and lost everything that wasn't anatomically connected to my head. No, no. It was the act of sitting around a fire and doing absolutely nothing that ensured my full set of teeth's demise.
And no, that tooth is not the same tooth as the baby tooth that rotted and “died.” That permanent replacement is holding strong, for now anyway.

I would really like to have those goats.

The Obligatory Where-I-Was-On-9/11 Post

In September 2001, I was a month into my junior year of college.  Junior year of college, if I've never made this clear, was the most awesome year ever in the whole world ever.  The only thing that compared was the summer before junior year of college.  As was my usual, I loaded up my classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, having late days into evenings those days, but one, maybe two classes on Tuesdays or Thursdays, which NEVER began before 10:00 a.m.  Fall semester junior year, I had one class on Tuesdays, which didn't begin until 3:00 p.m., so Mondays were usually Monday Night Fun Nights at Wifey's.  If I came home and didn't just sleep on her couch of pillows, it was late.  Usually really late.  This is particularly true if the neighbors called in a noise complaint because we were singing far too loudly (yet slyly had only Extreme's More Than Words playing at a respectful--if playing that song can ever be respectful--level when the officers arrived at our door).  And I would sleep late.  Usually really late.  Am I embarrassed to admit that I ocassionally had to set an alarm so I could get up and ready to leave in time for a 3:00 p.m. class?  Um no--I was in college, single, diligently working to strengthen a tolerance I needed for Southpong on Wednesdays, and making incredible grades so whatever.

While I don't remember what I did on September 10, 2001, I have no reason to believe it was any different than I described above, except for the call to law enforcement and slow rock karaoke.  I do know that I was sleeping soundly when my phone rang a little before 9:00 a.m. and wondered in a very lady-like way, "Who the F is calling me before 9:00 a.m. on a Tuesday?"  It was my Mommie, who was informing me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  I believe my audible response was little more than "Huh, wow" given my compromised mental state and inability to concentrate at such an ungodly morning hour but I disinctly remember thinking, "What a horrible pilot."  I was sleeping soundly again within 30 seconds of hanging up with my mom.

When she called again a few minutes later, it was only slightly less early and I was again awakened from a deep sleep so my ability to comprehend anything other than the need to press "talk" on the phone so that annoying noise would stop was severely impaired.  When she told me a plane had hit the OTHER tower, I'm slightly ashamed to admit, I said "really?" but I thought "What an unfortunate coincidence, what are the chances?"  Did I mention that I usually partied late into Monday nights?  When we hung up, I lay my head back on my fluffy pillow and drifted back to sleep.

The phone rang a third time and my mother, in a tone I don't hear from her very often, exclaimed, "Another plane has hit the Pentagon."  At this point, I thought something might be going on and I should maybe get up.

That which would become known as simply "September 11" had been on the news for well over an hour and after three phone calls and three plane crashes, I finally decided to get out of bed.  My brother was active-duty Navy at the time, so the attack on the Pentagon was the incident that finally lit the match under me to start the day and see if maybe some of this was possibly on the news.

I wouldn't see any live news reports for a while because our cable was out.  I was relying on news websites and my friends' AIM Away Messages to inform me.  After a while, I surprisingly got an email from my brother who couldn't say much more than he was okay, they were on their highest level of alert at the base, but they believed it was terrorism and not to worry about him because terrorists largely concentrate attacks on civilian targets, not military ones. 

It was still an hour or two before we got our cable back but by that time I had seen the crash footage and burning buildings a hundred times.  I was dreading getting ready for class for fear I'd miss something and all I wanted to do was sit down and watch the damn news.  Thankfully, just before I was making final preparations to leave, my school canceled classes for the rest of the day and I could sit in the floor and watch TV.  When my roommate finally came home from her canceled classes, we decided to go and give blood.  The line was unbelievable.  I'd never seen anything like it before.  I've never seen anything like it since.

I don't remember what I did the night before, and I don't remember what I did the day after except go to class where all of my professors and instructors had no intention of doing anything other than allowing us students to reflect and talk.  I do remember, however, that when my mother called the first time, I was lying on my right side.  When she called the second time, I was on my back.  When she called the third time, I rolled out of the right side of the bed and turned on the TV, saw snow, and went immediately to the computer, where the first away message I looked at was Wifey's, I immediately IMed my Mommie and Dave and I then pulled up Internet Explorer and waited for Fox News and CNN to load while I emailed my brother.  I remember what the box looked like on my college website that informed the public that classes were canceled for the remainder of the day and I remember distinctly my roommate's face and how she was holding her right hand over her mouth while tears streamed down her face and she dropped her backpack as soon as she entered the living room from the kitchen and yelled, "What the Hell is going on?"

Within a day I understood how my mother could remember so vividly where she was when she heard JFK had been shot (she was on the playground in 3rd grade, in the swings if I remember correctly).  I get it.  I'll remember what I was thinking and what I was feeling for what I can only assume is forever.  I had no one about whom to be concerned once I knew my brother was okay, so I was in not personally affected by that day.  I didn't know anyone who suffered losses.  I didn't even know someone who knows someone who did.  So, it's never ceased to amaze me how events like that will be forever burned into our memory, whether it has anything to do with us personally or not.

It's also never ceased to amaze me how absolutely ridiculous my initial response was.  And the second one too.

Music Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

This is completely off-topic from the subject about which I’m about to write, but I feel compelled to mention that two of the grapes in my Sunkist Apples & Grapes Fun Fruit pack taste remarkably like red wine. I know that sounds a little “duh” but how often do grapes actually taste like wine tastes? They normally taste like grapes. In fact, in my Fun Fruit packs, they normally taste like grapes with a hint of apple. I think it’s weird and a little frightening, leading me to wonder how long those particular grapes have been around. It makes me uncomfortable. Grapes shouldn’t taste like wine. Unless it’s a white grape that tastes like champagne. Yum.

Anyway.

I’m going to say something you’ve heard a hundred times before but, much like everyone else, I think I mean it more than everyone else: I love music. We all – make that 3 strangely wine-tasting grapes – think we love music more than the next guy. I don’t feel like I have to state my case to prove that I love music more than all others, but suffice it to say that music plays an integral part of my ability to be happy and content throughout the day. If I’m driving, I want music. If I’m working on something around the house, I want music. If I’m wrapping presents, I want music. If I’m sitting at my desk, I want music. If given the choice between music and no music, I’m going to choose music in most situations. My brother is the same way, and I believe my dad is too. You can take away the TV, but do NOT take away things that make or play music. Or white noise. But that too is off-topic. Suffice it to say, let me keep my music and my fans.

Many of my memories are spurred by music. Some come from smells, some by similar circumstances as the memory itself and of course those spawned by someone else talking about a particular event. But oftentimes, it’s music that takes me back. My growing up has been so heavily associated with music that certain songs can literally transport me to a certain time and place. I’m not talking about songs that remind you of something or someone. We all have tons of those. Iconz’s “Get F*cked Up” reminds me of the sophomore beach week. LL Cool J’s “Doin It” reminds me of hanging out with my friend, Ashleigh who would sing “…matter ‘fact I can’t wait for ya cane to rain” with her eyes shut. Alanna Myles’s “Black Velvet” reminds me of my Mommie, Sensefield’s “Save Yourself” reminds me of my maid of honor, and Peter Gabriel’s “Games Without Frontiers” reminds me of making my cousin Amber laugh. I’ve listed only positive ones, but there are definitely the songs that remind you of unpleasant or uncomfortable things. Hearing George Strait’s “Carried Away,” Tim McGraw & Faith Hill’s “It’s Your Love” and Garth Brooks’s “The Red Strokes” give me incredible anxiety and I’ll change the song faster than you can say “poor teenage choices.” With a few exceptions, though, these are all great memories and I love the reminders.

That’s not QUITE what I’m talking about though. What I’m talking about are the songs that can instantly put you back in a certain place, sometimes even at a certain time. These are the songs that can make me forget what I’m doing and I can actually see the scene in my peripheral vision, I can hear sounds as they happened, and I can even smell where I am a lot times. I can’t tell you why certain songs seem to have stronger effects on me than others, but I get so happy when it happens. Most of the time, the song will whisk me away every single time. A few have to come up randomly without me choosing it. And much like the “minor reminder songs,” there are negatives ones as well. Those I usually have to change quite quickly AND put on a happy reminder song. You don’t ALWAYS want to be teleported (I'm looking at you, Spin Doctors's "Two Princes"). Thankfully, those are scarce and I have many more happy reminder songs.

Here are my strongest Teleportation Songs. These songs can make me feel like I'm in a completely different place and/or time from where I am for a second and they will do so every single time I hear them:

1. Genesis’s “Tonight, Tonight Tonight”: This one doesn’t have to come on randomly. I can make this one happen. When I want to be in the late 1980s, crossing the Wright Memorial Bridge to the Outer Banks on a Friday night, riding in Big Buddy with my still-married parents, being followed by my aunt, uncle and cousin, on the way to our first beach house, I put this song on. I can smell the salt air and I can hear and feel the rhythmic bumps that used to define that bridge (duh-dum, duh-dum, duh-dum…always woke up our cat, Peaches). I can feel that excitement of going to the beach for the weekend and hanging out with my most favorite cousin. I can feel the excitement of spending time with her and not having my brother pick on me as much. I can picture the windowless child molester van with wood paneling and a speaker wall behind the seatbelt-less seat all around me and I can see the cat fur in the hole at the top of the speaker wall from where the cats crawled through (seriously, how did they get up there from the back of the van?). I’m looking at the interior of the van around me from the carpeted floor, because that was cooler than sitting in the seat. This one is probably my strongest Teleportation Song and I have to fight myself from “using” it too often. It’s one of my favorite songs in the world because of its ability to put me back smack in the middle of the one of the happiest times in my childhood. And because it’s a great song.

2. Red Hot Chili Peppers’s “Scar Tissue”: This one’s a little less specific, but no less dramatic. This reminds me of first semester of freshman year of college. When this song comes on, I’m 18 years old and I’m either driving around my then-boyfriend’s dad’s little town while MOH sings about the “birds of Cher,” driving home from college on a late Friday afternoon as the sun is setting over the mountains behind our football stadium, or I’m sitting in Deet’s Place watching a friend of ours sing this song in a karaoke show. When I’m driving home, I can remember the colors of the sunset with incredible richness and I can remember the interior of my car and smelling the crisp fall mountain air while my 1988 Chevy Corsica's headliner sat about a quarter of an inch from the top of my head. I can remember that I’m looking at the football stadium and taking a right onto Southgate. When I’m in Deet’s Place, I can see the chocolate croissant in front of me and smell the place around me. I know exactly which table we’re at and I know I’m going to be getting some cookies & cream ice cream soon. I can also hear the Fugees’s “Killing Me Softly” for the 3rd time and see these stupid chicks doing this stupid dance that made no sense at all. Regardless of the exact memory, I can feel that discomfort of being away for the first time and the conflicted feelings I had of enjoying myself so much but also missing home…and thinking I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying myself because I was supposed to be missing my then-boyfriend who was terrifically mad at me for going to the school when he couldn’t yet. I know when I hear “Scar Tissue” I’m going to be a freshman in college again for a few minutes. I’m going to vividly remember my dorm room, move-in day, the sidewalks and “shallow” stairs of campus, and my friend Amanda singing the part of “Around the World” where Anthony Kiedis doesn’t actually sing real words and I’m laughing hysterically. I don’t love the song, but I will listen to every single second of it. With a smile on my face.

3. Metallica’s “Until it Sleeps”: Not my favorite Metallica song. Not even close. Not my favorite Metallica album (WTF, they cut their hair?!). But I usually will not change this song when it comes on. When “Until it Sleeps” starts, I’m across the street at my friend Mikey’s house and my brother is washing his early 80s Blazer when he starts to blare Metallica’s new single from their first album in years, which my brother and I have anxiously awaited. It’s almost the end of freshman year of high school and I’m so happy because I hate my high school and I’m starting the weekend with my best friend and I’m only a few weeks away from the most fun summer I ever had before college. That was a summer of endless nights hanging in Mikey’s box van, working on his dirtbike (a KTM piece of crap), and learning from Wes (who had a much nicer Suzuki 250) that you can’t have just one taco from Taco Bell. Nor can you fix a floppy rear fender with just a little duct tape. “Until it Sleeps” will take me right back there, in a horrible dress that I never should have been wearing and I totally should have listened to my mom about that one. I can even tell you that it’s late afternoon on a Friday, pretty sunny and warm. I’m also super-stoked that my brother is talking to me like a person and not an annoying little sister. It’s a good day.

4. 702’s “Steelo”: I’m a sophomore in high school, riding in my cousin’s dark grey Honda Prelude with the sunroof open and we’re taking a left out of the high school onto the main road. We’re going to sing this, Foxxy Brown’s “Ill Na Na” and Lil Kim’s “No Time” during the 7 minutes it takes to get me home. And we’re going to laugh. And I’m wearing a shimmery purple velvet turtleneck atrocity with short sleeves that I should have not have been wearing. I'm looking at my cousin's really pretty emerald class ring, thinking about how much I can't wait to order MY class ring because class rings are like so cool.

5. Enrique Iglesias’s “Hero”: Picture it: College town. 2002. It’s about one in the morning and you’re in the Wendy’s drive-thru getting chicken nuggets and fries that will leave you with roughly $6.00 in your checking account but you don’t care because you need to eat. You’re with your best friend and her roommate and you suddenly realize that you all know the words. And you’re all singing them. And you’re all putting the same heart and soul into the expression of song that Enrique himself pours into it, if not more so. You might end up with a sore throat later but you don’t care because you’re absolutely laughing your ass off. A few months later, you’re going to make a CD called “Fun to Sing Songs” to be played on your road trips home with your best friend and this will be song number one. You’ll never skip it. And you’ll never get tired of it. I know it doesn’t sound funny right now, but I promise it was hysterical at the time. When I hear it, I’m right there in the car in the drive thru at Wendy’s or I’m on 460 in Bedford, screaming the song at the top of my lungs between fits of laughter. And so is MOH, sitting in the front seat.

6. Toya’s “I Do”: This song is not good but I love it. When this song comes on, I’m dressed as Treat, leaving the 2nd or 3rd Halloween party that year, for which MOH and I dressed up as Trick and Treat (our best ever, by the way). It’s junior year in college and just the beginning of the most fun year of my life, following the best summer of my life. We’re being driven back to MOH’s apartment by Connecticut and remarking that that was not the best Halloween party of the year. It’s a little cool, a lot late and I’m ready to crash on the couch of pillows.

7. Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun”: It’s summer of 7th grade and I’m wearing a babydoll dress with black lace-trimmed biker shorts and a pacifier necklace. I’m not lying. I think I’m dressed AWESOMELY. Just like every day before it and every day that will come after it, Mikey, Lee and Jake have come over to my dad’s house where I spent almost every day during the summers. I’m making grilled cheeses and we’re drinking massive amounts of Dr. Pepper and Mikey’s drinking his out of the mug with the see-through bottom. We’re going to watch MTV videos while playing Crazy 8s for a while and then we’ll go outside and play football. We might order pizza (why my dad gave us so much money for Papa Johns is beyond me—we ordered it a few times a week). As much as we love this song we know that our other favorite is coming up soon because MTV played the same videos all the time. With bated breath we awaited Warren G’s “Regulator.” When we saw one of these videos, we knew the next one was coming soon. For some reason though, “Black Hole Sun” actually takes me back, whereas “Regulator” more so just reminds me of the time.

They’re not necessarily the best songs (except for the number one, which just might be one of the best songs ever) but they can literally put me in a different time and place. I love these songs for that reason and at times they can truly be escape mechanisms. What I find so interesting about them is that they’re not specifically associated with an important or significant event during which these songs were played but for whatever reason, my brain latches on to them with tenacity. It’ll be interesting to see what songs do that in 20 years. Will I even like the song? Is it going to be that awful sky-full-of-lighters song I hate so much, but will remind me of the year I was engaged and I’m not going to want to change that stupid song, instead finding the need to torture myself with the song about fulfilling dreams that very few people will ever fulfill and never being the least bit inspired by listening to this guy singing about seeing a bunch of lighters from stage and how awesome life is now because I think the message is actually absolute crap and executed extremely poorly? I really hope it’s something cooler than that. I at least hope it’s like, Katy Perry, or something.

2011: The Year All Other Years Wish They Could Be

I've been somewhat busy lately, which has led to me having almost zero time to sit down and think of something about which to write, much less actually write. However, I've been thinking for some time that 2011 deserved something of a shoutout. I should have recognized its achievements in writing earlier but in a weird twist, 2011 itself prevented the recognition of its awesomeness by being so awesome it limited my time to write about it. To say it succinctly, however, 2011 rocked hardcore.

In 2011, I turned 30, had a Champagne and Bitches party, and reached some of the more important milestones of an adult's life. That's a lot for someone who just found her Glamour Shots and suitcases full of Barbies and Jem dolls. And maybe the hand-drawn picture of the Challenger astronauts I got as a kid. I mean seriously, a month ago I was tracking Santa online. But I digress. 2011 told me that it was time to start thinking like a 30-year-old and it tempted me with grown-up treats. In July, I got what I like to call a "career" instead of a job and I love what I do. In October, Boyfriend and I got engaged after nine years and he gave me my perfect ring in my favorite place. In December, we purchased our first home and we now have stairs. It's been a surreal six months and the time has absolutely flown by. I can't believe I've been at my "new" job for six months as of Wednesday and that there is less than a year until our wedding.

And can I tell you...it's all kinda awesome. My job is awesome, being engaged is awesome, and I think our house is pretty awesome. My job is stressful but in a good way, planning a wedding is stressful but in a fun way, and buying a house is stressful but in an amazingly satisfying way. Writing a check every month that goes towards purchasing something feels a lot different than sending it down the rent drain. Not to mention, the home-buying process really assists you in perfecting your signature.

But the coolest part of 2011?

I have cable! For real cable. Like, we're paying for it and we have a guide and a fancy remote and everything, cable. I can watch Archer. I can watch Beavis & Butthead. I can watch Dance Moms. I thought I could watch Dr. G, Medical Examiner, but apparently I don't have that package. But I can watch it On Demand! I can watch The Soup! Also, um, not going to lie...I can also watch pointless E! shows like Kardashian crap and red carpet specials. Red carpet specials! And I've been able to start my mornings the way they're meant to be: with SportsCenter. Thank God I have SportsCenter again! If only I had had it at the beginning of football season, I might not have laid the suck egg that I did in our football pool this season.

2012, you have big shoes to fill. I dare say they're even quite fancy. With rhinestones and stuff. Oh but they're flats, because 2011 is self-conscious about not being taller than you.

25 Things You Don't Know About Me Unless You Do Already

I haven't been feeling well lately, so I've been reading a lot of the Us Magazines my friend Ella-MF-Nor has given me while sitting on the couch, drinking cold uncarbonated things while my golf-ball-sized tonsils almost touch one another. In those magazines, some celebrity gives them a list of 25 things people don't know about them. They're usually completely full of crap. Like, no, Jessica Alba, you wouldn't be a molecular physicist tribesman machinist if you weren't an actress. You'd be an actress, just an unfamous one. The lists are ridiculous.

So I did one!

Here are 25 Things You Don't Know About Me. Unless you already do.

1. My mom has mispelled my middle name. In the past 2 years. And no, I haven't changed it since she, you know, named me.

2. I could watch Food Network for hours. Until a regular cooking show comes on at least. I don't want to sit for 30 minutes watching Barefoot Contessa, Rachel Ray, Giada DeLaurentis, etc. actually make a 3-course meal. Iron Chef, Cupcake Wars, Diners Drive-Ins and Dives, Sweet Genius...those I could watch forever.

3. I've never seen Braveheart. I've seen Freddie Got Fingered and all of the horrible Twilight movies, but I've never seen Braveheart.

4. I've never been to Disney World. I've been to EPCOT on a field trip, but we weren't allowed to go anywhere else.

5. I've wondered about my own sanity because I like my job.

6. I just chuckled when, while watching Chopped, two contestants next to one another were named Katie and Perry.

7. I'm 5'9" and while on the tall side for a girl, I've never hated my height. I'm not stoked to have to wear flats at my wedding, but it's a small price to pay for never having to ask for help getting something off the top shelf at Target.

8. I regret never playing water polo in college. I'm awesome at treading water. No, for real. I can't do much well, but I can tread water like a beast. Or, fish. My college had a club water polo team that I really very much wanted to try, but I was (am) far too terrified to play a sport in which I donned Princess Leia headgear and a bathing suit that people could see me in. Like, I'd have to walk around in a bathing suit. In front of people. People with eyes.

9. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why people buy any orange juice that's not Simply Orange.

10. Orange juice with pulp disgusts me. Who wants strings and bits in their orange juice? I don't understand why anyone wants to chew their juice.

11. I hate it when I say that I'm not going to have a certain dish because it contains an ingredient of which I'm not very fond and someone replies with "But you can't even taste it!" Then why put it in there? You put stuff in your dish because it flavors it a certain way. You don't put onions in sauce and go, "Throw em there, they taste like nothing!" I don't like margaritas because I abhor tequila. The very smell makes me gag. Don't tell me that a certain margarita is delicious and "you can't even taste the tequila." Yes you can, that's why it's there. If you can't taste the tequila, then they didn't use enough and you got screwed paying $10 for a liquor drink you can't taste.

12. I dream of being a gym rat.

13. I freakin love Jeopardy.

14. My dad's McGyver. Seriously.

15. I know that the largest estuary in North America is the Chesapeake Bay.

16. In 2000, I received the Texaco Geophysics Scholarship at my undergraduate institution. I still want to list that on my resume, because it looks a little awesome that I received that, but earned a BA in Political Science. I don't still list it, but I kinda want to.

17. I have a bachelor's in political science and a master of public administration, but I didn't vote this past Tuesday in the off-off-year election. And I feel no shame.

18. I think Eminem and Weird Al are absolute geniuses. I don't think anyone understands rhythm and the flow of words like Eminem. He can rhyme words that you'd never expect and unlike most rappers, most of his stuff actually tells a story and makes sense, as opposed to just finding words that rhyme. The way Weird Al can devise a parody but make it sound completely legitimate amazes me. They both literally blow my mind.

19. I believe in evolution. But I don't understand how, if we evolved from apes, there are still apes and why there are no half & half man-apes.

20. I have no idea who the front-runner for the Republicans is.

21. The last CD I bought was Adele's 21 and I think the one before that was Metallica's Death Magnetic. I run about a 5-year average between the purchase of CDs.

22. I hated barbecue when I was younger (probably because it wasn't a hamburger, hot dog, or pizza) but now that's what I want at our wedding.

23. I love parmesan cheese on everything. I could use it instead of salt. Forever.

24. I've never gotten up after sunrise on Christmas morning, and I've never stayed at home for the entire day on Christmas Day. I've always, always gotten up pre-dawn and traveled to at least one other place on Christmas Day. It would feel weird to never leave the house on Christmas Day.

25. The strongest and weakest I've ever felt is after I finished a 1000-yard sprint in a regatta earlier this year. It was so fun, so hard and I was so proud of myself when it was over that I didn't quit even though every muscle of me wanted to.

Creepertons, Coffins and Saws

Let's see...how do I put this delicately?

Boyfriend and I think the Creepertons are building a coffin.

Yep, that about sums it up. Right on their balcony. Building a coffin. I mean, it could be a coffee table, but we didn't see any legs or architecturally interesting design to suggest it's anything other than a box. So we're going with coffin.

On my way home this afternoon, Boyfriend sends me a text that says, "Check out what the Creepertons are building." Upon my arrival, Mr. Creeperton is exiting his vehicle with two two-by-fours and a small piece of carpet. After he goes inside, I get out of my car and look to his balcony where I see a long rectangular box. The box is roughly, oh I don't know, five to six feet long. I walk in the door and exclaim to Boyfriend, "Dude, is he building a coffin?!" Simultaneously, Boyfriend says, "Do you think he's building a coffin?" A short while later, Mr. Creeperton leaves and like a cartoon vampire, returns in frighteningly small amount of time with two more pieces of wood. For a straight hour, we've heard hammering, dropping of heavy things and constant walking. We decided, then, that we'd go outside and listen to building of this "just a box."

And that's when we heard the saw.

Okay, he's building a box, why wouldn't he have a saw? True, except that's not what's creepy. It's a creepily quiet saw. As in, he and Bitch Creeperton have lived here for two years and we've never heard this saw but that's because it's not loud enough to be heard through the paper-thin walls. We hear the saw and Boyfriend turns to me and says, "Well now we know he has a saw." We do. We do know he has a saw. A saw with an apparent silencer on it.

Boyfriend also saw him return from one of his short trips with a sink trap--that U-shaped pipe under your sink. This raises eyebrows because, as renters in an apartment complex, we shouldn't ever have to replace pipes and what not. We pay a decent amount of rent so that they do things like cut our grass, plant lovely azaleas, fix broken things, unclog drains, fix holes in the ceiling after one in the morning, etc. There's no reason why we should have to replace our own pipes. Unless, of course, you don't want the apartment complex--that's already been called to replace your entire set of kitchen cabinets because your leaky sink-apades rotted a hole through your floor and through the ceiling beneath you--to see what's clogging your pipes. So after some banging above our kitchen, the garbage disposal begins again in earnest. Testing of the new pipes was successful.

This begs the question, though: Why the coffin? Why not continue to use the garbage disposal and serial killer black trash bags? Well, the garbage disposal question is easy to answer--it's causing severe damage to the pipes. They've having to replace the pipes themselves and I swear Boyfriend and I have both noticed the same spot on our ceiling where it appears moisture is coming back through. We just aren't comfortable asserting it's not the one that was there before the drywall vagina appeared in our ceiling back in February. And the trash bags--we haven't noticed them use many of those since the day Boyfriend watched them furiously beat one into their Hyundai Tuscon and then NOT drive towards the apartment Dumpster.

So that means, they've got to put the "trash" into something other than the garbage disposal and serial killer trash bags. What does that logically leave you? A coffin, duh. A few people have suggested that it's perhaps a Halloween decoration. Here's why I have trouble jumping on that non-homicidal bandwagon:

1) They've never decorated for a single holiday. Not the two previous Halloweens they've been here, neither Christmas they've been here, no Hanukkahs, no Ramadans, no Pancake Days, no National Handwriting Days. No nothing. Ever. Why this Halloween?

2) The first night the Creepertons were here, they busted up our relatively lame Halloween party at about 9:00 p.m. or 10:00 p.m. on a Friday. Surely those kind of fun haters wouldn't be decorating now.

3) Decorating for any holiday seems entirely too normal for a couple so utterly creepy.

4) WTF was the carpet for?

So yeah, a coffin is the logical next step and I know it must be of some importance to them to complete this project because at 8:30 p.m., Mr. Creeperton was still hammering away into the night. Talking at 8:30 p.m. on a Friday is reason enough to compose a strongly-worded letter to apartment management, but hammering a coffin is perfectly acceptable at the same time on a Sunday when you've got to get that shit DONE.

I thought I had it figured out earlier when I realized I hadn't seen Bitch Creeperton in a while and Mr. Creeperton was driving her vechicle instead of his own. However, Boyfriend said he saw her earlier when they went to buy...the first few pieces of wood. Alas, the coffin is not for her. Boyfriend says we won't get worried until we see him building a second one. But if they bring up a brand new chest freezer soon, I'm out.