Monday, April 11, 2005

Just Lie Back and Think Of England

Here we are at David's Bridal for the last fitting before we were allowed to take The Dress home. I was able to snag my bride's maid's dress off the rack later that day, just before a group of loud black girls descended on the place looking for the exact one I was holding in my hands. I totally loitered in the fitting room for fifteen minutes to make sure it was the right size, not because I was afraid of being jumped by a crazy bridal hunting party.

I've tried to think of an appropriate caption for this picture. I like the title of this entry, myself. But I'm sure we can come up with some others. I'll start.

And that, Mom, is why it's called a "rim job."


  1. -the chicken dance, seriously, that is how i'm going to walk down the aisle

    -this comes in clear plastic right?

    those are kind of weak, i'll have to think about it

  2. "God I'm wasted"

    *falls over*

  3. "this comes dyed in the blood of a 1000 virgin kittens, right?"

  4. mom: "I'm thinking: dog-hair knitted stole to keep the chill off your sholders, dear."

    bride: "yeah, now that's classy!"