My brain is suddenly singing “Sippin’ on dat sizzurp” a rap lyric I picked up one time when I mistook the hip-hop station for NPR. Normally I’d be worried that my inner voice sounds like she flunked out of public school, but right now gangsta seems more relevant than GPA.
Two weeks before the Big Day, our favorite urban cowboy rock star had to cancel. He was technically the third musician we had booked to play a live set before and during the ceremony. So, I handled the dissappointing change in plans as I had the two times before: I laid facedown on the floor and… Continue reading Apparently, A Music City Wedding Needs Music. Apparently.
Ah! Nothing like some 90’s rave music to start a post off right. I danced to this song as a 9-year-old. We wore hot pink fringe booty shorts, curly pony tail wigs I always feared came from abused ponies, and gobs of stage makeup. These catchy beats remind me that I am a trailblazer for slutting it up long before… Continue reading Ready, Set, Go Change. Those fringe shorts look whorendous.
Shelby and I met in dance class. To no one’s surprise I was having a hard time remembering what Miss Cathy meant by complicated instructions like “look up” and “turn right” and “Nelson, stop mouthing the words to ‘Whoop! There It Is’! “. I’d say this was all just a product of my being six,… Continue reading A Very Bloggy Wedding Cake: Too Tall? Yes. Too Sweet? NEVER!
I am currently typing from the Dead Dog position. Sister to yoga’s zenful Downward Dog, Dead Dog resembles, well, a dog in the final stages of rigor mortis. All paws extended in the air, the Man Child is zooming toy cars up and down my shins, I think. I can’t feel my legs through the throbbing. He… Continue reading Dance-Dance-Dance-Tastic, Everyone! (Except for you, Old Girl.)