In A New York State of Mind

We're leaving for New York on Tuesday for a few nights in the city and a couple nights in Rochester! I may come back with no ass because it will probably freeze off. This impromptu trip that was ticketed just a week before the departure date is exciting to me in so many ways.

1. We will be visiting B's sister, Same Name, who normally lives in the city, but who just temporarily moved to Rochester for a theater gig. So, it'll be cool to hang out with her and during her birthday weekend, too!

2. We will be seeing some shows in the city -- I checked the TKTS boards for shows that were sold at discounted prices last week and there seems to be a great selection if the trend continues this week. There may be some Spamalot or Mary Poppins in our near future which would really slap a smile on my face and make me forget that my ass fell off due to the freeze. How I will sit on a seat in the theater is yet to be determined due to the lack of ass. And crystal ball.

3. We will be eating pizza and will be taking advantage of The No Diet On Vacation rule. If New York Pizza and Chicago Pizza were on American Idol, I would be voting for New York Pizza because, as Simon might say about a moron who can't sing, Chicago Pizza is absolutely dreadful. I am the Paula Abdul for New York Pizza -- I love it and think it's great and it should continue to do what it's doing: feeding my frozen-off and diet-forgetting, vacationing ass.

Dear Ray's on 8th and 51st, I love you and can't wait to get saucy with you soon. Keep your oil fresh and your cheese gooey for me just the way I like it. You are my doughmate. Love, Alison

4. We're going to some museums! I really want to go to MOMA again because seeing famous shit makes me all sappy. Seriously, when I saw Van Gogh's Starry Night a few years ago, I cried. It's kind of embarrassing. I think I also want to head over to the Jewish museum. I always dig learning about our people, and I think NYC will have a pretty good representation of all the shlimazel (good fortune) and tsores (troubles) that paint our history.

5. Free room and board. This is seriously a treat. Since Same Name will be in Rochester, her studio on the Upper East Side is vacant and it would be a crime for her awesome Ikea furniture to go unused while her brother and future sister pay for a hotel out of their, may they rest in peace, frozen asses. So, the doorman (eeeeek! A doorman!) will give us her key upon arrival and we will studio-sit Same Name's pad. Score!

6. I love going on vacation with B! We've traveled to Europe on a cruise and we celebrated our engagement with a drive up the coast to Napa Valley. We've done sightseeing in San Francisco and partied in Vegas. A few weeks before B proposed last winter, we experienced our first New York together as a couple and it was so much fun! I hope we can make this an annual thing.

My Super Sweet Weekend

So much for the Wedding Diet that consists of no saturated fats and "bad" carbs. I suppose, though, that I am all too happy to throw my diet plans to the wind for cake. And I don't mean any cake. I mean free cake. Free wedding cake. Free wedding cake that makes you feel special for 30 minutes of Bride and Groom Attention.

Bride and Groom Attention (BGA) is a term I have internally coined (so, it only exists in my head until right this minute when all 2 of my readers now know BGA) that describes the exclusive attention Brides and/or Grooms receive upon any wedding related event or conversation. This means, for example, that it could be as obvious as a vendor meeting where the sole purpose is to talk about us and our wedding and how nothing else matters since it is, after all, the most important day of our lives. BGA can also happen out of the blue in a totally non-wedding-related setting such as a conversation with strangers:

Stranger in line at the pharmacy with me: Have you been waiting long?
Me: No, but I need to get home because my fiance is waiting for me.
Stranger: FIANCE?! Oh you're getting married! Where? When? What are your colors? Have you bought your dress? When did you start dating? How did you meet? Did you know he'd be the one right away? When do you plan to have children? Wow, you look so young to be getting married!
Me: Uh. They just called your name.

AND SCENE.

Ok, I should be a flippin' screenwriter. Strike not! I seriously made that whole thing up off the top of my head. That was like some holy Holden Caulfield action. And while I seriously, truly haven't had this conversation with a stranger in line at the drugstore pharmacy, I have had extremely similar chats with extremely similar strangers who are extremely and strangely interested in my upcoming nuptials. That, my friends, is some hard core BGA.

I guess there is just something about being a Bride or a Groom (yes, I know they're not proper nouns, but I feel they deserve capitalization since they relate to the acronym of BGA as derivatives) that solicits all kinds of obvious attention from those involved in the wedding (such as vendors) and not-so-obvious attention from people who get turned on about anything having to do with a wedding.

But I digress.

Cake tasting is high up there with the ultimate BGA. For some reason, this dessert, this frilly confection that gets displayed and then viciously cut into, is supposed to create a whole sub-universe that is a direct reflection of our style, our relationship, and our future.

Oy. Freakin. Vey.

Me? Hey, I just like carbs and calories and that's what wedding cake, okay, any cake, is to me. I just want the thing to taste good and look good and with my basic taste for sweets and my appreciation for simple design, it's not going to take Cynthia Weinstock and all of her cronies to produce this concept. My ambivalence about this sugary focal point of our reception doesn't prevent me from being enthusiastic about these tastings we get to savor, however. After all, cake tastings are privileges that Brides and Grooms get to enjoy in which no one else in the human population can participate (that is, ethically. I suppose any old Jane and Joe could walk into a bakery with a pipecleaner ring on a finger and feel that they are entitled to free cake). I'm all about the bridal experience, and you better believe that my cheap ass is going to enjoy some complimentary cock (that's Frahnk speak for "cake" as spoken in the remake of "Father of the Bride").

Well, the search for our cake began on Friday night at the world renowned Breadbasket (and by world, I mean Ventura County). I'm no cake critic and I'm not really intending to be one, so I'm not going to go into detail. All I can is, "Yeah. Okay. It's cake." I don't know, maybe it was hyped up too much for me. Nothing I tasted was phenomenal and I was kind of disappointed in the way the four slices were presented in that they didn't correspond with any of the options I would pick from the menu they gave us. Plus, they didn't have marble cake and they weren't really willing to accommodate our wants. I'd say "needs," but really, who needs marble sprinkled with chocolate chips, laced with chocolate ganache? We're not a third world country. We're a Bride and Groom and we're not getting the kind of BGA we'd expect from Breadbasket, but I'm not about to use the word "needs." If I'm needing anything about this wedding, I have some seriously effed up priorities in life. Wedding perks and enjoyments are gravy on in the grand scheme of things. Okay, so I just had a Ghandi moment, but all I'm trying to say is that Breadbasket didn't really jive with our simple taste, so... thanks for the half-assed BGA and we're moving on.

Saturday morning took us to TC Bakery in Newbury Park. I walked up thinking I wouldn't be impressed. Their website was shady. They get no press. They're located in an industrial park near Amgen. But by golly, this cake was delish! No photos at this one, but it wouldn't have mattered unless I would be able to capture the happy faces on each and every one of our taste buds. And my camera isn't that cool. So anyway, big thumbs up for taste, service, flexibility and the ultimate "as you wish" BGA treatment. I think we had our WOW moment. Don't judge a book by its cover, kids.

We rested our tummies with a bathroom break and a browse-through at Borders in Thousand Oaks before heading off to the adorably decorated For Heaven's Cakes on Thousand Oaks Blvd. Walking into For Heaven's Cakes is like walking into every little girl's dream Barbie mansion. Perfect little pink benches with perfect little pink walls and perfect little pink framed artwork. Above us hangs a dainty chandelier that makes any bride decked out in a Swarovski drizzled gown melt into a puddle (I am not such a bride, but I still think that itty bitty light fixtures that dangle crystals are cute). Ok, so clearly, this place is all about presentation and connecting with the brides.

And ya know what? The cake was pretty good too. Not as tasty as TC Bakery, but ya know, good. Here's where I tisk tisk tisk. No quote. All the other bakeries are giving me a price at the end and ya know, that kinda matters. At For Heaven's Cakes, they go to the designer, tell them what I want, and then call me in a week with a number. Okay, fine, but I am not asking for the Wrigely Building to be replicated on my cake. I want a couple dots. Some squiggles. Ya know? Basic. Don't tell me you don't know a ballpark number for a 3 tiered stacked cake with a sheet cake in the back (shhhh) for a 170 people. Seriously, don't. Ah, but you did. That annoys me. Based on the presentation and the 5-paragraph essays that preceded each forkful, I know this dessert isn't going to compete with the price point of a McDonald's apple pie. So, I can pretty much assume that we won't be going with this joint, but hey, it was "part of the bridal experience."

So with three bakeries down and about three more to go, we're definitely getting to know the cake tasting process and learning what we want and don't want in and on our tower of buttercream goodness. Price is a #1 factor, then the ability to execute my design, followed by whatever B wants to stick in it. I figured letting him choose what the cake tastes like would be a good strategy to ensure our marriage lasts a lifetime.

After all, I believe in the C word.

Compromise.

B, on the other hand, is passionate about the other C word.

Cake.

Let 'er rip!

I would just like to say that no diet or exercise regimen makes me feel as light and clean as this:

Seriously, I feel like I lose ten pounds every time I go get a good eyebrow wax. All the hairy clutter off my face is gone and it's such a relief.

I'd been so busy with work and traveling and the holidays that I totally neglected my beauty duties. I can always give myself a homemade manicure and during the winter, I don't care toooo much about my feet (yes, I still exfoliate and paint at home), and I try to keep up with my hair roots, but when my brows grow out, they really grow out. So, after almost 2 months of being able to basically french braid my arches (ok, that's hyperbole, but I love it!), I finally got in today to see my personal God of Beauty and had the strays rrrrrrrrripped out. Now I have two eyebrows again!

I wonder if we're related:

Specify "Cutie"

Tis the season. Not for New Year's resolutions or for the start up of American Idol. No no. Tis the season for Cuties. Ya know, those little Clementine oranges that are genetically manufactured to perfection so that they contain no seeds and have an easy peel. Yes, Cuties are a household staple in the Friegel residence (no, that's not our last name, but it's the equivalent to what our last names would be if we were a celebrity couple talked about in gossip mags a la TomKitten or Brangelina, etc.).

We watch these little boxes of goodness at the Ralphs across the street like a stalker reads my blog (or not. I don't think anyone really reads this). We watch them for price first -- we can't bear to pay $10 a box. And then we watch them for quality. Must not be too hard, but must not be too lumpy and soft. There is a juuuuust right for which Cuties aficionados have a knack. Yeah, we got it.

Nothing is more fun that couching it in front of the TV and peeling those little mounds of juicy citrus flavor ever so perfectly, stringing away the white stuff and making sure all outside parts are strategically removed so as not to puncture the fragile fruit. B and I are never happier than the times we are accompanied by a box of Cuties.



As I was doing my nightly routine of catching up on Knot posts, B came running in the room and said with his hands high to gesture a list, "Here's what I love most in life: You , Cuties ...big pause... andeverythingelse!"

It was very cutie of him. I mean, cute.

I didn't really leave my heart in San Francisco

I am back! My body may be alive but as a human, I am braindead. My company's national sales meeting in San Francisco didn't totally kill me, thanks to the multiple glasses of wine I drank nightly (my liver on the other hand...).

The days: long and slightly boring as my region of sales reps rotated from room to room to learn about all the new products. Thankfully, there are a few of us smartasses who sit next to each other to make the sessions more entertaining. There's something about sales meetings that make a bunch of twenty and thirty-somethings retract to middle school.

The nights: fun and slightly wild as my colleagues (all 1000 of them) got dolled up for dinners and dances, awards ceremonies (nada for yours truly thankyouverymuch!) and speeches. Some people drank and danced and forgot all about their fidelities while others, like me, enjoyed free entertainment: drunk people.

The next days: the same as the other days but with hangovers (thankfully, I learned my lesson last time -- went a little something like this: "never again" -- and I did not achieve hangover status during this sales meeting). Wash, rinse, repeat for 6 days and there's your winter national sales meeting.

I could not have been happier to walk in my door where B greeted me with open arms. While I made the most of my sales meeting and being gone for so. freaking. long., it was wonderful to be back in a familiar place. Since I was couped up in the hotel for 6 days (except for one day off that I got to spend with Red Weenie, a good friend since junior high who moved to SF about 2 years ago) I felt like I had traveled to a whole other world and when I got home, I had to re-orient myself with our house. I went around touching things and smelling things; it was a very weird feeling to regain my freedom and take ownership of my space. But after a few hours, I got back in the groove and felt at ease as B and I cuddled on the couch, catching up on some Tivo and enjoying some ice cream.

Just like old times.

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

I thought I'd take some time to Blog before I finish packing and prepping. What am I packing and prepping for, you ask? I am flying to San Francisco tomorrow for my company's national sales meeting where 600 sales reps who are all clones of each other (it's seriously a small nation of beautiful and energetic ex-sorority presidents and ex-minor league baseball players with cutthroat, competitive personalities who've decided they can coerce stressed our professors into adopting our textbooks) will be immersed in products, products, products for 6 days straight. And, according to the weather report I just checked, it will be 6 rainy days straight. I, the once-in-a-blue-moon beautiful, lethargic, ex-sorority just-a-member with a lazy and whatever-happens-happens personality who's decided it'd be cool to get a professor to change books if he feels like it, am not all that excited. It's like publishing boot camp where every activity and session are so regimented that a control freak like me has a hard time relinquishing her control. Plus, I'm a homebody and I don't like being away from home unless I'm away with my fiance or my family -- preferably in a tropical locale.

But, in the effort to find some sort of silver lining, at least this NSM is in San Francisco, a mere up-and-down plane ride away. The summer NSM was in Orlando, Florida and that was, well, rough. August. Orlando. I resembled Monica Gellar in Barbados. Yeah, try looking professional and on top of your game with a Brillo pad coif like that! Thank goodness San Francisco isn't humid in the wintertime, and even though it's supposed to pour, I'll be couped up in meeting rooms all day that no one will have to make room for my Jew fro that's usually disguised as sleek straight hair (thank you Chi!).

So, if I can, I will try to write from my meeting. Who knows, it might be fun. I was in Boston three weeks ago for a training that I was equally dreading and ended up making some pretty cool friends and enjoying a very fun night out that lacked quite a bit of sobriety (the next day, however, not as enjoyable). While I will not be a party girl this time around (seriously, that showing was like some freak Uranus eclipse or something that only happens once every 3,542 years) because, please, my boss will be there and I have to "perform," maybe I'll consider removing that very large stick from my ass and try to make the best of it. That's what B keeps telling me anyway: "just go and make the best of it." Yes sir, mister man!

In Wedding World, I am happy to report that we have the following vendors taken care of:
photographers (how I heart eight20photography!)
videographer
florist
invitations
officiants
dress
tux
bridesmaid dresses

this means, then, that I still need to handle cake, linens, and small items like the ketubah and similar Jewishy things. The only crafty thing I intend to do are paper related projects -- table numbers, escort cards, menus and programs. I feel like I am pretty much on my way to frolicking down the aisle. That's just cool.

Well, I suppose I will finish packing and spend some time with B. My head is playing a little Eagle Eye Cherry circa 1998 -- some "Save Tonight" action. I loved that song back in the day and it's super relevant to right now: I don't want the night to be over because then that means I have to leave!

Oh wait, I'm supposed to make the best of it. Ooooooookay.

The first on the 1st

I find it fitting to be posting my first blog entry in my BlahBlahBlog on the first day of what's supposed to be "our year." That's what Bryan and I professed to each other about four hours after midnight as we finished cleaning up the mini streamers and champagne flutes (that actually housed Martinelli's sparkling cider) that we enjoyed with another couple, known as ActressFriend and ActressFriend'sHusband. Just as we were about to flip off the lights and head up to bed, Bryan and I rekissed in the kitchen and when I snuggled into his t-shirt, he said, "2008. This is so our year." He's not wrong. We're getting married. Sure, the wedding is only one day in the year, but the first five months of 2008 will be filled with last minute planning and the remainder of 2008 post-wedding will be about thank you notes, and wedding albums, and first holidays as husband and wife. And for that, we are so excited for this year!

I'm sure this blog will be pretty wedding heavy. After all, I decided to create one after the inspiration I got from my fellow wedding-planning partners in crime I've "met" on the Knot's L.A. message boards. It will be fun to go back and read about this planning process. I also look forward to posting movie critiques, food reviews and my never ending opinions about my experiences at the theatre.

A fun blog and a fun year awaits, and I'm feeling as bubbly as last night's Martinelli's!