Better Than Decoupage

Everyone needs a hobby. Usually, mine is trying to remember why I should come to work. Recently, I learned how to code links into my posts which, if you were born after the cut-off date, you probably learned in pre-natal typing class. Good for you! Shut up.

Tata: My link doesn't work.
Mamie: It's broken. I'll fix it.
Tata: Grrr! Grrr! Arr. Grrr!
Mamie: While I'm at the conference -
Tata: The ten days I'll spend swearing you're grounded but in the end I'll just be glad you're back?
Mamie: - pester your friend Jazz. By the look of things, he's spending too much time with grownups.

Uh. Okay. So Jazz is the reason broken things at PIC are all glued together and pristinely duct-taped. Anyway, very cranky persons have complained the wedding stuff is all backwards and interspersed with specious musings. Good for them! Shut up. Here's Miss Sasha's wedding, in order. If you missed it the first time, be sure to picture me with a perfect manicure and a splitting headache, because weddings are not about the Mother of the Bride. Are they?

Leading up to and including the bridal shower.
Plastic fruit aplenty.
Speak no evil. Well, maybe a little.
Shopping and sharpshooting.
When 'rustic' attacks and when we fight back.

The altar and the alterego! Cheers!
Percussive and concussive.
Waiting up is hard to do.
Coffin or caffeine?
The best advice you'll hear all week.
Orchestras rehearsed on the Titanic, too.
I'm not listening! You can't make me!
Dressed and repressed.
Get a tissue. This is the good part - for you!
Laughter, horror and a tasty buffet.
After, and after that.
There can't be more. But there is!
Home from the honeymoon.

I still have no wedding pictures, but that's okay. I'm not desperate to see myself in a purple blouse tailored for Ming the Merciless - and it's not like you'll get a glimpse of that triumph of textile engineering. Ugh. Well, unless it's hilarious.

We'll find out, I guess.