T-minus 8 and counting.

While I wouldn't say that I woke up on the morning of my wedding hungover, I would say that I was incredibly nervous and skittsh for the entirety of the day, making me look like something of a -- how shall we say? -- crack addict.

I woke up at 7 and couldn't get back to sleep, which worked out okay, I guess, because Bridesmaid Jenn was already awake and had already wandered into a local Starbucks. She then called me at 7:30 and instructed that we "stop having sex" and tell her what kind of coffee we wanted.

She came back to our room around 8 with coffee and fruit. I ate this coffee and fruit . . . and then I threw up in the toilet. Note to self: coffee is not a good chaser to a night of drinking wine and gin.

We met the family and the rest of the bridal party for hotel brunch at about 9/9:30ish and proceeded to pick at fruit. Note to all: I cannot eat when nervous. At speech tournaments in high school, I could never eat until after my first competition.

I go to my room and rest for awhile until I get a call from the florist at 11 a.m., asking if she can drop off flowers around noon. Bridesmaid luncheon is put on hold until the florist delivers incredibly gorgeous bouquets and boutonnieres to my room.

I had picked this florist off the internet, had never met with her and only exchanged phone calls and emails . . . and this was the result. Magfreakinificent!

My bouquet.

His boutonniere.

Bridesmaids and Bride's Mom joined me for lunch at Cheesecake Factory. We all went shopping in the Handbag Basement while waiting for our table. Despite touching beautiful purses for a half an hour, I still can't eat once we get to Cheesecake Factory. Pasta sits on my plate. Magen gives me Xanax.

I love Xanax.

By the time of our 3 p.m. hair appointment, my world is looking up. I do not appear like as much of a crackhead, and as my hair transforms itself in Angela's capable hands, I am becoming a very pretty crackhead as each minute passes.

We are out of the salon a little before 5 and are suddenly superbly glamorous. Here's what our hair looked like:





Kate took the pictures of Magen and I, but I didn't have any of her hair prior to the wedding. So here's her entire look, courtesy of Gabe, our photographer. (You can see her flowers, too!)



(Cassie and Jenn, being short haired, napped at the hotel during this time. Or hit the bar. I'm not sure which.)

We shielded ourselves from the wind before returning to the hotel to complete the movie-starlet transformation.

Randi helped me decide which underwear I should wear.



Yep, those cotton boy shorts were totally the winners.

The getting ready bit is all really a blur to me after that crucial decision was made. Jenn did our makeup, Randi, the unofficial bridesmaid, helped zip things and adjust things and lend moral support to Kate, the Best Kate. Cassie and Magen shooed my mom away when I was about to kill her. I think I ate two slices of rye bread . . .

Then at just past six we were spirited away to the ballroom by our less-than-stellar wedding planner . . .

Posting falls second to spending time with my new husband.

Really.

When finally you move in with someone that you've been with for years, the notion of alone time seems to fall by the wayside and you spend every evening making up for the number of evenings you didn't get to spend together throughout your relationship.

Marcus and I have been together for over 6 years, moved in together in July and got married last October.

So we're still doing that "spending every moment possible together" thing.

But because of that, certain things have been neglected for far too long. I've finally gotten into the groove of balancing work with absurd amounts of internet surfing, so the posting can resume. I've even begun to resurrect my book blog, an experiment I tried back in 2005 that quickly disintegrated.

In any case, I'll take this time to post a few photos of the events leading up to and concluding in my nuptuals.

Tally ho!

The Bachelorette Party

Jenn buys me a silly hat for my tiny head.



It lights up! And has penises on it! I am referred to by a strange man on BART as "The Weiner Devil."



At one point, I decided my pretty hat should be around my neck instead. To my dismay, my pretty hat later leaked battery acid on my chest, leaving me with a slight rash across my chest that, thankfully, was totally gone by the wedding on Saturday.



We met up in the Mission for dinner and drinks at Luna Park, which was awesome, but not quite as carnie-licious as I had hoped. Amazing mushroom ravioli things. Delicious goat cheese fondue. The best Singapore Sling I've ever had in my life! Some amazing grape cocktail called an Ice Breaker which is basically grape vodka and contineau. It tastes like exotic Kool aid and I am pretty sure I could drink it forever. All in all, a tame night. Lots of alcohol. No raunchiness. Threw up some god-awful pink drink when we moved on to the Elbo Room. Then I threw up in a tree on the way to Bart.

I am so good at vomiting.


The Rehearsal Dinner

We have the most awkward rehearsal ever with a wedding coordinator we didn't hire. We knew that we'd have someone coordinating our event as it came with the package we had from the hotel. However, we had been working with a different coordinator prior to the rehearsal, only to discover that the hotel had switched their schedules that day and thus we were stuck with a horrible beast of a woman who yelled at my bridesmaid, yelled at my guests and could not seem to fathom that my honor attendant was a man and the Best Man would be a woman.



I think the look on my bridesmaids' faces generally sums up how everyone felt about our coordinator.

But after that, we had a lovely lovely dinner with all of our attendants and out parents at a little Italian place around the corner from the hotel. Much wine was poured -- some of it into a glass that still had a different kind of wine in it -- and then afterwards we hit the hotel bar with my attendants . . . and then, true to our Santa Barbara roots, we all decided that we should grab things from the liquor store and drink in our rooms . . .

The face you make when you're getting married in less than 24 hours.