I've written this post a million times. While falling asleep in bed, on a plane, staring out my office window, sitting in traffic...you get the idea. It was a little different every time but always naturally full of wit, my brand of sarcasm and of course charm. And yet now that it's time to actually post on this topic, my god-given ability to form sentences escapes me. I'm marrying the love of my life. And I'm speechless. Case in point, it's taken me almost a week to develop this post. My first attempt was everything you'd expect...from a drunken, squealing 22 year-old-bride . The second, a highly emotional entirely too personal tribute to my relationship. Neither would do justice, and now we're here which is more about my frustration with finding appropriate adjectives than the fact I'm getting married. Hello?! How do people do this every day as if it's ordinary? I feel anything but! I am invincible, complete, elated, and just one personality ...

Let's forget the "Dear" this time. And the fact that because I've spent so much time flying your friendly skies I have nothing else to talk about but your shortcomings. I'm like the sorry ex-girlfriend that won't shut up about the love she lost. And love I have lost for you, my friend. I forgave and I forgot when you left me stranded in Bentonville, Arkansas during skunk mating season, complete with lots 'o chicken dander, thanks to your broken door. And I assure you, it was extremely painful staring at that plane kissing the jetway knowing it wouldn't fly. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Shit happens. Yes, it sure does. You took advantage of my loyalty and held me up in San Antonio. I know, weather. Atlanta in the spring time is a bitch. It's not the weather I blame you for. It's telling me I'm on the earlier flight which was also delayed, and then ripping it from my bosom as if we never loved. Have you no decency? I do ap...

You and me friend, we have a love-hate relationship. I heart you when you take me to warm places filled with frozen cocktails and fun, but despise you at 6:30am when you're taking me to Arkansas, DC and other places of no fancy. But I suppose we are going to have to make it work, because you and me? We're gonna be seeing a lot of each other. You probably already know this, as you count up the dollars coming your way the next few months. By the way, thanks for the rate hike, my budget appreciates it. I know, it's oil prices, maybe you should consider corn.  If this is going to work, let's get a few things straight. First, I will be a Gold Medallion this year, and even though you now have Diamond and Platinum, I still spend more time with you than I do my godchildren, so I expect a few bones in the form of upgrades. Free cocktails will work too (on the return only). Second, be on time. I have clients to see -- this is my livelihood -- and many of them are meeting ...

When I was little, I would lock myself in my room with my purple boom box and dance in front of my mirror for hours. Complete with wardrobe change. I was awesome. When I was teeny tiny, I had a talent for entertaining our guests from the heights of our brick fireplace with renditions of Captain and Tennille's Do That to Me One More Time. It never occurred to me that turkey baster wasn't really a microphone. These are some of my happiest childhood memories...dancing with myself. Even as a younger adult, I occasionally danced around my house and called it exercise. Somewhere along the way I became embarrassed, despite no one watching. Age, it's a buzz kill.  Or maybe not. If NKOTB can make a comeback, anything's possible. Last weekend, while painting, I caught myself dancing -- and I mean full on pirouettes -- from the foyer to the kitchen. The hardwood floors in my new home make sliding Risky Business-style quite simple for even the most rhythmically challenged. ...

Me and Scott, we're movie people. We never really watched a lot of TV. A little Anthony Bourdain, The Bachelor (ok, all me), and Modern Family, but that was about it. And then we moved and got AT&T U-verse. With DVR. And every channel under the sun. We are the last people on the planet to have DVR, and it's a whole new world to which we just gained admittance. We get it now. We record everything -- from Tosh.0 to The Middle, to movies like Cruel Intentions, Chinatown and anything else that suits our fancy. Thank you AT&T. For making my job enjoyable (a good thing) but killing my social life (a bad thing). Did you know you can REWIND LIVE TV? I mean, holy shit, how'd they do that! Top that off with two new HDTVs -- for the people that have been watching TV on our average 32-inch Sony for years -- and a fully wired surround sound house and you can rest assured we're never leaving again. Is TV going to ruin my life? Or will the novelty wear off? Should I ...

So you see, we have been waiting on our washer and dryer for a month. I went all crazy and got the LG steam washer and dryer because damn it I can and nothing is more important to me than clean. Hot, steamy, clean. That, and I've been using a washer and dryer from 1969 for the past year. I'm not exaggerating. Really. Modern appliances are a novelty for me. I spent more on these than we did our TVs. Both of them. Together. These are apparently quite the popular model. They have been back-ordered twice, and naturally the day they were going to deliver it neither of us could be home. Well, a girl needs clean underwear. Fortunately, my beloved is not above hitting up the local laundromat to clean our skivvies. Nor, is he above giving his phone number to the jesus-freak schizophrenics that hang out there for fun. As I learned a few minutes ago when his phone rang and it was "Ed". I am again, not kidding. Seems he and Ed have similar views on the cyclical nature of ...

Quibbles, schmibles and numbsticks. I have no idea what that means.  WHIRRLLLWIND couple of weeks. More on that later, but let's talk about today.  Today, one of my fantasies came true. No, I didn't get married or molested by Ryan Reynolds, but I did get rear-ended. In my car, that is. The fantasy becoming reality is what I said to the Dunwoody housewife driving the Lexus that hit me..."WHAT the FUCK were you doing".  The answer is checking her look in the mirror.  Me? I have a habit of incessantly checking my rear-view mirror versus my look. This is a result of my father's story of the time he happened to notice an 18-wheeler barreling down the road behind him while stopped at a red light. My father calmly pulled in front of the left turn lane (i.e. middle of the road) and 5 seconds later the truck came plowing through the red light. Seems his brakes failed. And with that fateful rear-view mirror check, I am not a fatherless child.  So I do a lot of ...