Thursday, March 17, 2011

Piecing the Puzzle Together Part 1

It's already March...almost April. Eeeks. It seems like just yesterday Alec was dragging me down to the park to propose (codename: take Maia on a diggedy-dog walk). As always, here is a recap of a process that I do not wish on my worst enemy.

The Dress

Ah, yes. The dress. Tens of pounds of lace, tulle, organza, and other socialist French-y words that let me (and my wallet) know that the menu for the next couple of months is ramen noodles. Ever since I was a wee little Asian, I wanted to go try on a dress at the House of Fashion on J Street. I have never been in the store but from the street you can see a giant winding staircase and I wanted my movie star moment on that sucker. I checked Yelp! for reviews on the place and very quickly realized that I wanted to stay the hell away from this bridal hellhole. One of the reviewers talked about how the wedding consultant told her that she was fat (she's a size 10) and it wouldn't hurt to get on the treadmill. Crazy bitch making minimum wage say whaaattt? You expect me to give you a Grover Cleveland for a heavy ass dress AND endure your verbal barrage of fat comments? Pass. What's next? David's Bridal. Well, once again I have no first hand experience with David or his bridal staff. First impressions- why is a man in charge of women's wedding dresses? Why can't it be Darcy's Bridal? Stupid men's world. We can't even get wedding dresses. Next, they are going to start advertising Tom's Tampons and Peter's Pads... For all your feminine hygiene needs, choose Tom's Tampons because when you think of tampons, you think of Tom... Popped up David's Bridal reviews and wouldn't you know...their store sucks Kathy Griffin's ballsack too. Old man farts! Why is a decent non-psychologically damaging bridal shop so hard to find? It seems like Joan Rivers and her crew of malformed plastic surgery leather handbags have taken over the bridal industry.

I have been dreading getting the dress for months. I have been terrified that I was going to look overly...rotund in the dress and the reviews of the bridal shops were definitely not helping at all. I also am way too pragmatic for my own good and had no desire to spend more than $600 on a dress that I was more than likely going to stain, rip, or destroy on the wedding day. Get your collective heads out of the gutter, folks! Food, dirt, bugs, and nails have a tendency to gravitate towards me and destroy anything bit of clothing that I treasure and cherish. Plus, other than Jessica Simpson and Ivanka Trump who wears their wedding dress after the wedding? I would (and will) wear my dress after the wedding at random points in my life just to mess with people. I plan on having fun with it. Trips to Walmart and Home Depot encased in a layer of makeup will supply me with enough social awkwardness and humor to get me through the winter because that season is especially solemn? So here I am, trying to figure out how to Asian my way out of purchasing a horrifically expensive dress while at the same time trying to preserve my already frail ego. Chris and I are not particularly traditional, so should I just go with a party dress? It will cut down on the cost and I could wear it over and over again. Well, at least until that fateful nail or not yet dried paint ruins it. I went online and looked at Nordstrom's selection of dresses...nice...uck...too booby...not booby enough...too Christian...too MILFY... When I found out that they sell wedding dresses. Only problem was that they weren't available in store. I crossed my fingers and prayed to Gaga and ordered the dress. When it finally arrived, it sat on the table unopened for four days. I wanted it to be the right dress so bad that I was terrified about the prospect that it wouldn't fit or look halfway decent on me. One night, I lady-balled up, walked into the bathroom and tried on the dress. It fit. It worked. I looked...good. Asian lady in a white wedding dress say whhhaaattt? One of my mom's students said that whenever she is buying a dress for an event, she purposely looks like a steaming pile of Seacrest and if she looks good, then she knows she is going to look smoking for the day (with the help of makeup, tanner, push-up bras, etc). That night, I looked like the swamp creature yet in that dress I looked good. Crap. All this egalitarian gender role socialization and here I am looking in a mirror about to cry because I am in a white dress. I have been in a white dress before but I haven't ever felt like this before. Crazy. Who knew that deep down I was a girlie girl. Ok, so maybe not a girlie girl but a girl that doesn't completely make fun of the girlie girls. I'm still not wearing pink...but I will admit that I got "the" dress.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

A Chocoholic's Wet Dream

Two words, one name: Ginger Elizabeth, the culinary wizard of all things cocoa. Chris and I were trying to figure out what we wanted to do for wedding favors. We argued a bit over the actual concept of wedding favors: the gall of some people to expect a gift for attending an event with an open bar, live music, fresh air (I am tempted to charge all guests a $20 Inhalation Fee), and vegetarian cuisine. The argument ended once we realized that in order to properly ensure that our fair guests would be presented with luxury (pronounced "Jag-U-are"), we would first need to sample everything. We are nothing if not falsely benevolent (and plagiarizers- thank you for the line, Jane Lynch!).

So, what is a wedding favor? According to some wedding website I am making up, it is something ranging between $1.50-$1M USD. Expect the low range people. I have vigorously tried arguing the case but the lawyers keep on insisting that I am not genetically related to Oprah; although I do believe that we are sisters, in that generic "We Are the World" way.

Other than a rather slim price margin, wedding favors are usually chocolate, alcohol, or some random trinket that you will collect dust on your bookshelf. So, chocolate. People like chocolate. I like chocolate. Chris LOVES chocolate. And given our alternative lifestyle- think a commercialized green living- we wanted to have a local chocolatier provide the gourmet favors for the guests. I searched and found Ginger Elizabeth, Queen of Those Riding the Crimson Tides, we jumped in the car and drove into midtown, anxiously awaiting our treats. First thing of note- we are way too uncool to be in that area of town. The people walking their dogs were exponentially higher on the Prince scale than both of us combined. I tugged at my t-shirt and tried to act cool. Hipsters swarmed the streets with their $150 designer jeans and 2 hour coiffed 'do that looks like they just emerged from their Fortress of Solitude (and blankets). They, like dogs could sense fear, so we did our best to fit in with those who try to not fit in.

We ordered an array of chocolates and cookies along with a true hot chocolate. Not the watered down garbage they sell in coffee houses but thick, creamy hot chocolate that warms your veins and gives you a warm embrace of chocolate-y goodness. Mmmm...

The chocolates are by far the best I have ever enjoyed. Chris joked that we should move into the apartment complex adjacent to the boutique. My fear is that I would one day be unable to pass through the door as my frame would become too robust from the overindulgence in Ginger Elizabeth's Cocoa Nirvana. But...chocolate overdose would not be that bad of a way to die (unless you are a dog, in which case, it would suck pretty bad), it sure as hell beats any of the slightly comical ways to die "somewhere in South America" with the doctors from Off the Map. Ugh. It's like McGyver made an baby with Dr. McDreamy out of bamboo sticks and used nappies.

Will guests enjoy Ginger Elizabeth's fine candies? Will Dr. McDreamy finally profess his love to Dr. McPouty? Where is La Clinica? Is the Man in Black the devil? All* will be revealed in a new post!


Friday, January 7, 2011


The countdown has begun. Well, not really. I browsed the iTunes free app section for a non-denaro wedding app a couple weeks after I got engaged and found the not-so-neurotic "Wedding Countdown." Looking back, I realize that having a countdown to the wedding in seconds probably will not lessen my anxiety one bit. And a quick psych test will most definitely bear the same results.

Although I am as anxiety-ridden as LaLoca Lohan after her first minute in rehab slow pieces are beginning to come together. So when I say "pieces" let's all understand that I am overstating the estimation of progress by a lot. It's the difference between not stabbing my eyes out during Star Wars and knowing the chronological order of the movie's releases (and re-releases). Looking at you on that one, Chris. So the Great Advancement from Winter 2010 is...the best lady got her dress. All this occurred in a matter of...who knows? And I am totally going to count this as a personal/couple progression of all things wedding even though my only input was: "Keep your twins and hoo-hah covered and I am fine." Such a bridezilla!!!

Moving on, moving on. Nothing to see here....just really, really dirty laundry that we are betting on if it will reach the ceiling before toppling over. It's made some strides and unlike Stride gum, the "flavor" remains entrenched. I am semi-wishing for it to become a giant laundry monster that can only be tamed by Cesar Milan or Puss in Boots. If it's the latter, there may be issues. So nix the animated character. The cottony beast can only be slayed by Cesar sans Daddy :( Everyone spill a little gravy on the floor for Daddy. Moment of silence. I said silence.

And....we're back. Mom brought over a couple bridal magazines the other night. Yayyyy and Arghhhh!!! I have come to a happy place in which I have resigned that unless the Swan or Bridalplasty take me as a contestant/guinea pig, I will not be looking like the models in the pages of Bride. Oh well. At least they make dresses that will contain the twin peaks. That'd be awkward if they did not. Very awkward but MEMORABLE. Hmm...that could be our "theme-" embarassing nip slips- but is it a "slip" if it was never housed in the first place? Ah, the age old questions that we ponder. What is the meaning of life? Does Ryan Seacrest say "Seacrest, OUT" after coitus? Where do we go when we die? Is a nip slip a nip slip if it was never covered?

When I was talking to my dentist today about the wedding (quite a feat considering I had two hands stuffed in my mouth), he told me to check to make sure that there are not any odd laws in Aruba. As, geography lesson kids, Aruba is not a part of the United States but is a Dutch protectorate. No odd laws that I have found so far. Plus, the resort is super inclusive of everything so I highly doubt that we will be venturing too far off the resort. Ok, I sound waaayyy to bougie for my taste. I FIND THE CLOTHING AT OLD NAVY TO BE AFFORDABLY CHIC. Ok, good. Went down significantly on the bougie rating. I have to admit that I am a little concerned about the whole Natalee Holloway thing but I have a couple of things working in my favor, I am: 1)not fully white, so I should be 50% less attractive to potential abductors/killers, 2) not rich, 3) do not look like a aerobics Barbie, 4) not one to go adventuring without Chris a couple steps ahead of me, and finally 5) in bed by 2:00am. The whole ordeal kinda freaks me out a bit. How crazy would it be if I could Gil Grissom the crap out of the case and find the girl? I think CBS would be obligated to create a show about it. I see it now: "Beach Murder Sex Sun Alcohol Violence" starring as Lucy Liu or Maggie Q (no resemblance but only Asian actresses) as the lead; Sam Jaeger as Chris; Hannah Montana as Natallee Holloway; Tom Cruise as Joran van der Sloot. I probably need a new title so I don't get Cougartowned and I should try and copyright this so I don't get Mencia-ed up the JLo (or Minaj, for those who are more 'hip').

One more magazine to thumb through. Oh, joy. Oooohh! I found this awesomely cool little chocolate boutique in midtown for the truffles. I am going to drag Chris down there this weekend to try them out. Fingers crossed! I would ask how someone could mess up chocolate but there is not enough space for me to fill with "chocolatiers" who need to be stripped of the title.

A couple more minutes and I am going to slink off into the night and fetch Chris and myself breakfast. Aww, aren't I all domesticated and stuff?