Consumerism and the Wedding Registry

So cool. This was soo much better than sky diving.

Of the many struggles one encounters in wedding land, one of the toughest for me has been our wedding registry. By now you may have gathered that I have some issues with consumerism (if you haven’t been a reader all that long, see this post, and that post, and this one too).

Among the many pressures a couple faces during the planning process, it turns out, there's a whole other set of expectations for wedding registries too. Monogrammed china, five million thread count organic cotton hand towels imported from Borneo, silver china that will gather dust in the attic for like...ever, and all the expensive kitchen appliances that you'll use once and then retire as counter top decorations. No thanks. Like many wedding options Fiance and I are choosing, we’re not going a traditional route with our registry either.

Fiance and I have lived together for nearly three years, so we have what we need for the most part. I've also been a pretty mindful shopper after I got myself into a bit of a financial pickle from which I just crawled out.

For these reasons, we are not doing a traditional housewares registry. Sure, it’d be nice to upgrade all our towels, but I can’t shake the angel on my shoulder who keeps screaming about how wasteful it is. What happens to our perfectly good old towels? I don’t have space for everything, and I’ll be damned if I throw perfectly good items in a dumpster. Okay – maybe, another pair of sheets would be handy for our king bed and perhaps we could put a new pair of kitchen tongs to use. Aside from that, I am drawing a blank. The aforementioned items would make a pitiful registry, and they’re simple enough for us to buy on our own.

This article on apartment therapy (which is quickly becoming a fave blog of mine) expresses my struggle with the want/need aspect of a wedding registry to a T.

What our generation wants are experiences. I want to see the world. This NPR article explains so much about my values and what I want for my life, and I don’t think I’m out of line for expecting my registry to reflect that.

So, Fiance and I are opting for a honeymoon registry. Experiences are the best gifts and you always have a fond memory to look back on. For those that prefer to purchase a non-experience gift, we have a gift card registry. That way, we can save the gift card for when we actually need something, or for when we buy a house. No wasteful spending here!

But more than that, we’re not getting married to get gifts. I’m getting married because my fiance is the love of my life and I want to hang out with him until one of us dies (to put it frankly). If you’re invited, it’s because we want you to celebrate with us (and feed you and make you drink beer so somebody’s out there dancing with us).

However tacky or non-traditional you deem it, just know that every wedding is unique to the couple getting married. At the end of the day, what matters is that they are kicking off their marriage as happy as they can be. And history has proven that you don't need a Keurig to do it.

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but I’d rather go swim with some mother effing dolphins than stay at home watching my Kitchen Aid attachment make ground beef.

What's Up



One of three photos I took on my whole Vegas trip. We were too busy sinning.

I’m back, kids! I must apologize for my hiatus. This year has proven to be difficult in maintaining my blog, but rest assured, I’m not abandoning you. We’ve had something going on every weekend since I don’t know when, and we’re pretty much crazy busy until after our honeymoon. So bear with me – I promise after October I’ll have some juicy posts for you to enjoy.

Here’s an update on life:

VEGAS: We just got back from celebrating Fiance’s dirty 30 in Vegas! We had an awesome time and met seven other friends in Sin City to celebrate (two of which were also turning 30) so you can imagine that we had so much fun, that we would like to not return to Vegas ever again (okay maybe just for a few years). Oh – and I won Best Future Wife of the Year award by surprising Fiance with a Ferrari driving experience. I told him we were driving Go Karts so he wouldn’t get wasted beforehand ;) Seeing how happy he was after getting out of that Ferrari made me not feel so bad that I lost nearly $200 playing slots.

WEDDING PLANNING: Well, it’s mostly done. Now I’m starting to look at all the shitty details I don’t really want to contend with, like logistics. Okay I’m done thinking about this now. Next!

HOT YOGA: I’ve been getting my zen on. I’m in love! This has been keeping me balanced and sane, and in shape. I’ve been trying to slim down before my dress fitting next month. I’ve lost 15 lbs since the holidays and I’m nearly at the weight I was when I was running half marathons – granted I’m not as muscular or toned as I was, but I’m trying to get there one asana at a time ;)

5K: I signed up for a 5k! Don’t get so excited – I’m not running it. But I am walking it with my pups and fiance!

SHOWS: I’ve seen some pretty sweet shows since May – Radiohead (my absolute fave band!), Black Keys, and I’ll be seeing Fiona Apple next week! Speaking of Ms. Apple, what the hell is up with her new stuff? I absolutely love everything else she’s put out, but I don’t think I’m tortured enough to appreciate the wailing and screaming that assaults my ear drums on her new album. It has gotten rave reviews and I’m just listening to it with a confused look on my face. Maybe if I listen to it while slitting my wrists with a pink bic razor I would finally understand it. There are a handful of tracks I can get into, but I sure hope next week’s show delivers. I ruined the last Fiona Apple show I went to by getting so drunk that I almost got kicked out of the Chateau St. Michelle winery. Moving on… I’ve also seen Anjelah Johnson and Aziz Ansari live. I swear I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. It’s been an amazing year for entertainment so far!

BABY SHOWERS: This Sunday will mark my third shower this year and I know a few others who are preggers. Eerbody’s makin’ babies. I’ve been playing that celebrity baby name game so much that I will ban whoever throws my baby shower (if I decide to have kids – don’t excited, Mom) from playing it. (BTW, did you know Mike Myers named his kid Spike? And some actress I’ve never heard of named her baby Audio Science? And I thought I was screwed having to correct people on pronouncing my name.)

READING: I’ve been reading some amazing books lately. Right now, I’m enthralled with Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (or really anything by Barbara Kingsolver). She’s quickly becoming one of my favorite writers. This book has been getting me in touch with my inner hippy, and making me realize how disconnected we are from the source of our food. So I’ve been inspired to purchase organic, local, in-season foods, and eat healthier as well. I went to our local co-op with a new eye and appreciation for produce. My mom likes to tell people I once brought home a zucchini for her when she asked me to pick up a cucumber, and that I put cabbage on my sandwich instead of lettuce by accident. I’m learning, and this book is helping. And this is why Fiance does most of the cooking in our house. You can check out Barbara’s message by visiting the book’s website, although I highly encourage you to just read the book. The stories she tells are simply beautiful.

SAD NEWS: Poor Chika is getting spayed tomorrow :( I’m dreading it for her. Bowser was so miserable after he got neutered and was crying all night. I stayed up with him like a good mama and just cuddled with him. I hope Chika isn’t hurting that bad tomorrow. It makes me upset just thinking about it.

That's all for now. I have more blog posts pending...if I ever get around to editing them...

Home Repairs

Killer chinchilla is hiding in your shower drain.

Since we have illegal four-legged friends residing in our home (Really? Pet rent? We refuse to notify them based on principle), I try my darndest to fix things in our rental rather than call the maintenance guy. If the repair guy really needs to come, it involves having to find dog sitters, hide every dog-related item in the house, including the huge photos on our wall, or calling the vet to find out if our dogs have the right vaccines for a last-minute doggy day camp trip. It’s a hassle. It’s just easier not to bother the maintenance guy if I can do it myself.

So, our shower drain has been clogged for a good two weeks, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I’d been putting it off, and putting it off and finally I got a wild hair last night and declared, “I’m handling this problem once and for all!”

I triumphantly found a Phillips screw driver, some gloves and charged upstairs to tackle the drain. I felt all Rosie the Riveter and shit about doing what I consider plumbing. “We can do it!” I shouted in my head. I was only missing the red bandana.

Then I got to the drain.

I took out the screws, removed the drain cover and peered in. I saw something that resembled hair and attempted to pull it out. It just broke off. This wasn’t looking good.

“FIANCE!!!!” I had to scream fourteen times before he realized I was trying to get his attention. My Japanese heritage was tingling, so I asked for chopsticks to help with the plumbing issue. His dude brain heard BBQ skewers, which only broke off when I attempted to pull – it was foreshadowing of the mammoth substance I was dealing with. Once he realized that I seriously needed the girth of the chopstick, he obliged and brought me the tool that I’m sure most plumbers keep in their belts.

And then I dug a bit more. The chopstick started getting it out, and once I had it to a point where I could grab it with my gloved hands, I pulled. And then I gagged.

A Guinness World Record-sized wad of hair, covered in a year’s worth of soap scum emerged from the drain. It was about the size of a chinchilla (nearly a foot long, not including tail). And. It. Smelled. Like. Ass.

I immediately started gagging, and my eyes began watering. Even Fiance got grossed out.

I said, “We’ve been showering with water backed up from THAT! It touched us!”

It seriously took about an hour for the smell to leave our bathroom, and that was after I took the garbage out containing the beast. It smelled like raw sewage. I couldn’t believe something that behemoth was in our drain. Next time, the maintenance guy is totally getting called.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but some home repairs are best left to the pros.

Happy Birthday! I'm unfriending you.

You didn't get cake, because they forgot it was your birthday, because you didn't allow your facebook friends to see what day you were born. Really, it's your fault.



I bought into the facebook hype early on and I've witnessed the site’s transformation every step of the way. Before there were timelines, news feeds, photo albums, and options to upload the video of your first child being born, there were just a few personal questions to answer, and the option to upload one profile pic (you read that right: one).

There were no status updates, no cover photos, no photo albums of the last five epic vacays you took, no way to tell the world that you had the best effing burrito of your life, and no way to announce that you’re getting married so nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo-stick-your-head-in-doo-doo. Just a freaking photo, the name of your school, and the option to tell a closed network of college students that your favorite band was Hanson.

You still had to call your friends or have face-to-face interactions with people you wanted to keep in your life.

Even in its most simplistic format, I thought facebook was pretty darn cool. I loved browsing the profiles of my classmates, finding fellow recovering Hanson addicts, and connecting with high school friends who were attending different universities.

While I still login everyday to see what people eat, smell and think every five minutes, I have definitely changed my user habits as facebook has expanded. Most specifically in who I decide to “friend.”

“Friending” someone on facebook used to be as invasive as saying hello to a passing stranger. There was very limited information you shared with your “friends” and of course your true friends knew only what you ate for breakfast, what you’re thinking of naming your firstborn, and what time you put in your headgear last night. I used to friend anyone I met - random partygoers, guys I thought were cute, co-workers I worked with for five seconds. It didn’t matter - They didn’t have access to my life story with the click of a mouse.

But as facebook has grown, it has cheapened what information we determine intimate, and what friendships we consider valuable. Our connections have become increasingly artificial. Now any “friend” can discover the most intimate details that were once reserved for those in our closest circles. It’s to the point where we tell our true friends stories, only for them to interrupt and say, “I already read that on facebook.”

I’m still “friends” with people I wouldn’t normally give two shits about if facebook weren’t an option. So I began asking myself, why? If it doesn’t make a difference to me if your status says you “got caught picking your nose in the office” or that you “just had a baby,” we probably shouldn’t be “friends.”

I had “friended” so many acquaintances that I didn’t remember how I was connected to all of them. That’s when I knew it was time to purge my friends list. I went on an unfriending binge a few months ago (which felt so good - it was like hot yoga; the toxins were being released!), but a few stragglers remain.

And you know how I’m reminded to unfriend those stragglers? Their birthday pops up on my newsfeed. I think, “Oh wow. I didn’t unfriend them months ago?” Happy Birthday! I’m an asshole and I’m unfriending you! Honey badger don’t care.

My new criteria is, if I feel uncomfortable wishing you a happy birthday because we’re not that close, you don’t need to know that my dog lost a tooth yesterday, or that I got sick from the burger at a chinese restaurant, or that I hung out with my family over the weekend.  

And why are we hooked on such nonessential statements about life anyway? We are not only intrigued by sharing the inconsequential events of our day, but reading about others’ as well. The little things are what ultimately comprise our lives and some are certainly more interesting than others. We enjoy the voyeuristic aspect that facebook provides. Facebook has somehow tapped into our inner creep and made it all okay.

People willingly share all kinds of information about their lives, from birth to death. I have friends that have passed whose facebook pages are now tribute pages. Imagine that! We’re still connected on facebook in the afterlife.

I feel too far invested in facebook to pull the plug, and I do rely on it to stay in touch with even my closest of true friends, but I certainly understand other’s hesitations for not wanting to join the biggest social media network in the world.

Some have predicted that facebook is just a passing fad, while others tout its ingenuity and claim it's the wave of the future. I’m more apt to side with the latter, but I can’t do so without my criticisms.

Facebook is a great way to stay in touch with people you care about, and a great way to stay in touch with those you don’t. Ultimately, Facebook harbors artificial relationships and makes us feel more important than we really are. And who doesn’t love flattery?

People can like your statements, your political beliefs or the fact that you just farted. And with each like, it makes us feel more important, more popular. Facebook promotes a false sense of worth and importance. Just because 42 people liked that you thought the guy sitting by you on the bus smelled like ass, doesn’t mean that 42 people want to actually hang out with you and hear your thoughts in person. Seventy people liked that I was engaged and I can guarantee you that not even half of them will get wedding invites (and it’s not because we’re on a budget).

Truly befriending someone used to be saying, “I enjoy your company. Let’s hang out and have conversations in person and do fun stuff together.” In the online world, “friending” means, “I want to know what you ate for dinner.That’s all.” Facebook has turned us all into miniature (or in some cases, big time) stalkers.

Being my “friend” on facebook means that you get to see that I ate the best effing burrito of my life, in addition to all of these awesome benefits of a real life friendship. If you’re my “friend,” I want to hang out with you. And I don’t mean in Google+. I mean, hang out, like...for real. I would not be put off if you asked to go get coffee or do things that friends do. Facebook should be an added bonus to being my real friend - not the basis for our entire relationship.

So in that sense, if I unfriend you, see it as a favor (or birthday gift). I’m not wasting your time or invading your privacy, and I am preventing you from doing the same to me. Life is too short to harbor useless relationships. And facebook sucks up enough of our time as it is to realize we’re spending it stalking people we don’t care about anyway.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but facebook “friends” should really just be friends.