Well, auntie, I guess. I'm blogging from the farm after bringing my car down to the dealership to fix my stupid ignition switch. I spent two hours shopping with my mom, sister and nephew after leaving the car and OH MY GOD these people make me insane.
And that's why I've started drinking at 1:30. Christ, I needed a beer three hours ago. There's something delightful about sitting in an armchair with a beer, "working." Okay, so I'm blogging at the moment, but I've started working anyway. I needed a break after about 20 minutes of trying to wait out the work connection. It doesn't work too well with the 'rents Interwebs.
So, tomorrow is my cousin's wedding. And oh, what a wedding it will be. It's in city park. It is apparently sport-themed. The dinner is essentially going to be a barbeque at one of the shitty bars in town -- hot dogs, burgers and brats. All that is fine. It's your day and your life and you can do whatever the fuck you want. I hate weddings, so I'm not going to want to be there whatever it is you have planned.
However, I am going totally going to bitch about the registry. It's 12 fucking pages long. TWELVE PAGES. And it includes everything from an LCD TV and Blu-ray player to toothpaste, Ziploc bags, shaving cream and Pledge. PLEDGE, for fuck's sake. You've lived together for a couple of years now. If you don't need stuff, don't put random shit on your registry. I know it's tacky to ask for money, but it seems pretty goddamn tacky to ask me to buy you Swiffer wipes and shaving cream, too.
My siblings and I have been joking about what we're going to buy them ever since our Mom printed out the registry and told us about it. I actually didn't look at it until yesterday with my own eyes. But given the state of the economy and my car repairs, payroll change and pay freeze for 2008, I'm *this* close to giving them a box of plastic bags and a can of shaving cream. Times are tough all around, bitches.
Now, I must take my leave of you, because I need another beer.