TWO YEARS AGO I GOT A FAT ROCK

It’s starts like this.

Boy meets girl. Girl proposes to boy. Boy says it isn’t official until girl gets a fat rock.

Girl gets a speeding ticket going to her bachelorette party. Girl spends $1,000 on her bachelorette party weekend and it happens to be one of the best weekends of her life. (Think stripper shoes, 80’s garb, a penis everywhere you looked, braless friends, copious amounts of booze and friends who were willing to fish pills out of vomit because they knew how important they were.)

Fast forward to the wedding day.

Michael cried, freaked out, couldn’t relax and I can imagine he paced a million times while he waited for the ceremony to start.

What did I do? I sat around in my robe while my bridesmaids got dressed. I bitched a fit when some girl opened the door and showed my dress to the boys. (You know, because that is so important.) Even the photographer commented on how the roles of this wedding were reversed because the groom isn’t usually the one freaking out. That right there should have been the first sign that we were the true definition of opposites attract. Ai yi yi!

Highlight: I danced and looked a fool… sober. (Until the very end of course.)

Highlight: I have the best friends a girl could ask for.

Highlight: My friends pulled the booze out when the shit hit the fan. The picture on the right is what did me in, damn you Elle and Jim!

You are probably sitting there asking yourself how Michael is apart of the equation. I mean, shouldn’t the highlights be about getting married to by best friend?

Highlight… I got a fat rock?

Homemade wine on every table, 9.5% IPA, more beer, more wine, White Russians, champagne and hard liquor for the wedding party. Michael got blitzed… end of story.

In all seriousness, I did marry my best friend. We can’t agree on anything, we drive each other crazy, we have completely different parenting styles, we very different childhoods, we can’t agree on how to decorate our house and our priorities in life could not be any further apart. Somehow we make it work though. Maybe it works because he looks past all of the crap I put out there? I swear, some days I am like a monkey flinging poo at him but he just ducks! 

I LOVE YOU MICHAEL GEORGE SCHUPLIN JR. 

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