Wedding Hair

The only occasions I have ever had my hair done professionally have been for my two weddings. And I don't even count the first time anymore since this second updo kicked my old updo's ass all over the place. Hands down.

 

My wedding dress was a reproduction 50's vintage style tea length dress. So I wanted to keep my little retro theme when it came to hair and makeup. I know I do not have any ability to do this. (See my Military Ball photo for the high end of my hair styling skillz.) So I paid an arm and a leg to have a professional at the Planet Hollywood Spa make me beautiful for the day.

 

 

 

I couldn't have asked for a better updo. And my makeup was fabulous. I felt like a movie star.

 

This would be me as a movie star acting with a dinosaur:

 

 

Having this beautiful wedding hair made it an easy decision to ALWAYS have a professional do my hair whenever my dress costs more than $100. That's a special occasion dress price. Since I'm all done with getting married from here on out, that means Military Balls. I can't wait for the next Ball so I can be a beautiful movie star again... but without the dinosaur. Dinosaurs freak me out.

Wedding

James and I tied the knot in Las Vegas on August 10th. There are a million funny or sweet stories to tell, but I think the story that needs to be shared is a story of a catastrophic wardrobe malfunction.

 

**Let me preface this tale by saying I had just been bragging to some friends that this has been a completely stress free wedding for me. Karma is a bitch.

 

So I was getting ready in my parent's hotel room. As my mom was zipping up the back of my gorgeous wedding dress, the zipper broke. And when I say broke, I mean, the dress was completely zipped up the back but the zipper teeth weren't biting each other any longer. This dress was not meant to be backless, and there were only 30 minutes until the ceremony was supposed to start.

 

I burst into tears. Of course I burst into tears. Who wouldn't? My day was just ruined. I put on a ridiculous green dress (it had pockets-- you can't get married in a dress with freaking pockets) and wanted to back out of the ceremony.

 

James saved the day and called every resource he could think of to save the dress. He finally found a tailor downstairs in the casino mall who would look at the dress. I ran to the tailor with 2 friends in tow. The seamstress replaced the entire zipper in just about 15 minutes. I was zipped back into the dress-- and thank you sweet baby Jesus the zipper teeth stayed biting each other. I ran barefoot back through the casino and arrived at the chapel 10 minutes late.

 

Out of breath, but in a beautiful dress (without pockets), I married the man I love... who also saved the day. XOXO

 

 

 

 

Viva Las Vegas

I got my groove back, so to speak, in Las Vegas. My tolerance for alcohol and I were reunited. It was a joyous occasion. Tolerance certainly does include black outs. Tolerance to alcohol as defined by Jackie means the room is not spinning and I am not vomiting everywhere. Blacking out is perfectly acceptable, and actually preferred. When I black out I am still in motion, it's just like someone turned off the recorder. It's a very drunk, loud, out of control motion, but definitely motion.

Rosie and I managed to get cut off from a bar in Las Vegas and kicked out of the MGM Grand because I was black out drunk. I didn't even know you could get kicked out of a bar in Las Vegas. I don't think I was even too out of control... while I was still sitting at the bar. The second I stood up, it was all over. I fell into a slot machine and thought it was quite possibly the funniest thing ever.

I sat down on Las Vegas Blvd because I was laughing so hard I could not physically hold myself up any more. By the way, Las Vegas Blvd is quite possibly the dirtiest street in America. I'm sure I picked up an STD through my jeans.

Rosie made a decision to get food in me to try to sop up some of the booze. She took me to a food court with a Del Taco, bless her heart. I devoured a burrito like I hadn't eaten in a month. I also made a loud, laughing scene. So loud that Rosie took pictures of me:

She wasn't the only one who took pictures. A man behind me took pictures of the spectacle I was making. Rosie told me, "The Mexican Elvis behind you is photographing you." Well, I hated that idea and went on a drunk yelling rampage about how rude that was. I turned around and yelled at Mexican Elvis. It was a string of obscenities, but I got my point across. Rosie removed me from the food court as quickly as possible.

I'm glad Rosie was sober enough to handle me. She's a good friend to deal with me! I knew I'd be able to get my groove back sooner or later. It just took a weekend in Las Vegas to find it.

Cirque Du Soleil

I celebrated my 27th birthday in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada this weekend with one of my VERY best friends, Rosie. It was a great trip! The highlight was when we saw the Cirque Du Soleil Beatles show, "Love". It was very fitting for Rosie and I to see that show together, since we are both long time Beatles freaks... I mean fans. Also, we saw "Love" on October 9th, which happened to be John Lennon's 70th birthday. I am a freak for knowing that trivia fact.

The show was an audio/visual orgasm. I'd never seen a Vegas show before. It sounds so old person to me. But it turned out to be amazing and now I'm a fan of the Vegas productions. I'll go to more. Because there are more trips to Las Vegas planned. There always should be.