Planning a Wedding is Hard Work

It’s been a little over two months since Brian and I got engaged.  We (and by we, let’s be honest here, I mostly mean me) are deep in the throws of the planning.

Since Brian has been telling me we would get married this year since last January  (why yes, he did wait until December to pop the question), I knew we didn’t have a lot of time to waste. So we jumped right in.

It’s gone a little something like this:

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Read wedding planning book. I did this last summer, before Brian proposed, when my wedding guru friend Alessandra hooked me up with her amazingly helpful and real book.


Leave book on bedside table, let boyfriend wake up next to you reading book, and make notes in the margins when you know he’s looking.

*Results may vary, engagement not guaranteed by buying or reading this book.

Get engaged. Sometimes,  this will happen before the wedding book reading. You do you, Boo.

Drink champagne.

Ask mom to stop blabbing to the world before you get a chance to tell some of your besties before they hear about it on Facebook.

Tell the Internet.

Drink champagne.

Start receiving wedding advice from anyone and everyone. Choose wisely which advice you listen to and which advice goes in one ear and out the other. So far the best advice has come from my boss: “Don’t let the details stress you out. Don’t get caught up in Pinterest.”

The worst advice comes from everyone else (and let’s be honest here,  I’ve offered this up to a lot of people, myself, and even try to convince Brian it’s true, but it’s likely a do as I say, not as I do situation): “Don’t worry about what other people think. It’s your wedding. You’re paying for it. Do what you want.” Yeah. Right. You know how many people have already told me how irritating they find a wedding without cake? Fucking Pavlovian responses. Wedding bells = cake. Even when the bride and groom don’t particularly love cake.

Drink champagne.

Re-read wedding planning book. Alessandra encourages a do what you want mentality but she also understands that it’s not always possible and to focus more on the not stressing out part. She’s realistic about that shit.

Make future husband read the groom chapter of wedding book.

Binge watch Gilmore Girls.

Drink champagne.

Start making actual decisions.

Like the where: I started emailing venues for pricing, capacity, and other details. I plugged it all into a fancy spreadsheet I created and mathed the shit out of the prices. I narrowed it down to three places, found out availability for the general season we wanted, visited the venues and scoped out details, and ultimately made our decision.

And the photographer: This was a factor in our location as well. The photographer we (I) wanted was available on certain dates, which narrowed our venue options further.

And the DJ: We were so close to skipping this and just making a playlist, but decided the cost was worth it for someone who could actually read the crowd and manage the tunes to keep the kind of atmosphere we want.

Drink champagne.

And now here we are. Exactly 7 months from our wedding. We’re not completely on track with the timetable mapped out in the book, but it’s more of a guide than a rulebook, which is what we needed. With a lot more to do, I’m still not stressed. I’m excited. And in the grand scheme of all the things, the ONLY thing that matters at the end of the day? Is that Brian and I are pledging to spend the rest of our lives together.

So, fine. Let them eat cake.

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What was it like when you planned your wedding? If you’re not married yet, what are you most excited/worried about? What was the best wedding you’ve been to like? The worst?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Just. Can’t. Stop.

This year has been…interesting thus far to say the least. In addition to the deaths of some of my favorite people…Jareth Bowie. Snape Rickman, I’ve been stricken with a few grievous issues. Only a few weeks in and I’ve had the laryngitis, back maladies, a small addiction to the Twitter, and a serious case of Netflixitis.

What is Netflixitis, you ask? Well, first, I thought to myself, Self, you just made up Netflixitis. Aren’t you clever? 

And then I thought to myself, Self, you should probably Google Netflixitis to see if you’re really the first person to think of such a clever thing. 

And then I Googled Netflixitis and discovered that it is, in fact, a “real” thing. Of course, it is pretty much exactly what you expect it to be. It’s an affliction of the mind and body in which you physically cannot say no to Netflix. No matter how many times it asks you if you’re “still watching Gilmore Girls?” No matter how many episodes you can get through on a Saturday that you have zero plans (and for the record, Netflix will ask you at least 3 times if you’re still watching). No matter how many Christmas trees are still up in your big, fancy, unkempt house. No matter how many things you haven’t planned for the wedding that’s nearing on 8 months away.

I hate it when Netflix asks, Are you still watching Gilmore Girls?

I see that judgy way you popped on screen, Netflix.

Netflixitis is a healing disease. Especially when it includes snacks. And a lot of drugs for your back pain. And just the right positioning on the couch. It may take weeks of recovery. And for that, we’re thankful that all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls are available on Netflix. And by “we,” I mostly mean me, although Brian has partaken of the Gilmore Girls for several hour spans of time.

Netflixitis is a disease that also doubles as an idea machine. When I told Katie I was starting on the Gilmorathon last month, she warned me of several weddings, but I had no idea that each season would be ripe with marriages and weddings and big fancypants parties. Did you know that there are AT LEAST seven weddings on Gilmore Girls? I’m only halfway through Season 5, and I can count SEVEN freakin’ weddings. And all the ideas. Oh man. I mean, I want midgets dressed like angels dancing under papier-mâché mushrooms, don’t you?

I’m totally kidding.

Sort of.

Netflixitis is a beautiful thing. Netflix is my beautiful thing.

Even if I do have this minor condition.

These 7 Signs Will Tell You If You Have Netflixitis.

7 Signs you may have a case of Netflixitis

You continue to binge watch episodes of a TV show that you’ve never seen before, despite the dishes that haven’t been washed in a week…just like your hair.

You’re now binge watching episodes of a TV show you’ve seen at least twice all the way through.

You’ve watched three bad horror movies, and are nuking the popcorn for round four.

You’re imagining your life as Liz Lemon, Lorelai Gilmore, and Buffy Summers at the same time. You’re smart, quirky and a total bad ass. You rock. Netflixitis makes you awesome.

You wake up from a dream in which you’re a teenager and boys are sneaking into your window (seriously, Rory lives on the first floor of her dorm and people can just get into her room? I lived on the first floor and we were lucky the windows even opened).

You come home from work, grab a sammy, and plop down in front of the TV for night of the Gilmore Girls, only to be highly disappointed when you realize you left your beverage in the kitchen.

You haven’t left the couch in three days and your boyfriend is sending out SOS signals from your bed.

Sometimes, my boyfriend sends SOS signals from my bed

Have you ever suffered from Netflixitis? What is your favorite thing to binge watch right now? Are you a Gilmore Girls addict? 

Netflix Stream Team

As a member of the Stream Team, Netflix sponsors these fun little posts which give me the ability to watch 24/7 streaming TV and write about it. I had a Netflix account long before I was a Stream Teamer, and all opinions expressed are entirely my own. 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Have the Laryngitis

I think.

I mean, I’m  a little bit of a hypochondriac,  but I’m pretty sure that my inability to speak like a normal Chrissy, let alone a normal human, puts my diagnosis in the not exaggerating box.

It’s as if someone said, “Chrissy, you have all these things to say and people to talk to, so fuck you. We’re putting your vocal chords in timeout.”

It’s not like I’m trying to plan a wedding here or anything.

Yesterday, Brian and I  had the following conversation while at work:

Brian: How are you feeling?

Me: It’s just my throat/chest/voice. Otherwise I’m okay.

Brian: Those are pretty important body parts.

Me: That’s just because chest = boobs

Brian: I would also prefer you breathing!

Brian, of course, thinks my new voice is rather adorable. Personally, I think he just likes that I am barely speaking. Unnecessary verbal conversation has ceased, but as Brian pointed out, he thinks I’m having fun with it.

It’s probably because I may or may not have attempted singing along to the Gilmore Girls theme song once…or twice…or okay fine. Five times. It wasn’t pretty. Think the worst bad karaoke you’ve ever heard. I’m worse.

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Every word comes out scratchy, and every 3rd word is pretty much inaudible. For someone who loves to talk, it’s a nightmare.

One of the things I like to do when I’m dying of some mystery illness, though, is to consider what crazy series of events led me to this slow and painful death sequence. I’m quite positive it has everything to do with cleaning. Brian and I went to his childhood home and cleaned out some of the drawers in his childhood bedroom. I found his grade school gym uniform! And a certificate for achievement in courtesy dated 4 days after my birth! It was magical and adorable. But I’m blaming the dust for my vocal chords going on strike.

Luckily, when I get home at night, I have everything a girl could possibly need: Gilmore Girls, a holiday puzzle on the coffee table, snacks, and Brian.

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He takes care of me when I’m sick. He’s the best.

Have you ever lost your voice? What is your favorite show to binge watch? How do you handle being sick?

This post was brought to you by Netflix who provides me with a monthly subscription and a device on which I can binge watch Gilmore Girls as part of the Stream Team. As usual this story is all mine and no one paid me for my opinions.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!