Last Night Out

Hello all!

I am SO incredibly behind with my blog, and I send my sincerest apologies. Turns out, you neglect a lot of things when planning a wedding. Now that I'm a MARRIED WOMAN, I can catch up! 

I'm going to start my catching up with a post about my bachelorette party, which was in September. Of course, not all details can be revealed because that breaks the cardinal rule of a bachelor/bachelorette party! Let me start by saying that my maid of honor (and also hostess of the party) went WAY out of her way and I'm sure spent way too much money and I am forever grateful.

Elaine (my maid of honor and yes I changed her name.. just in case), asked me early on what I wanted to do for my last night out. Easy- I wanted to have a VIP section at Opera nightclub and get a hotel. That was it. I didn't need a limo or party bus, or anything more extravagant than that. Done. Elaine booked the section, and all was well. UNTIL, she got a call from one of the sales people at Opera that informed her that a private event was suddenly booked and the amount for the section would triple if we still wanted to go. Obviously, I didn't want her or anyone else to have to come out of pocket any more than they already were, so we opted for Prive nightclub instead. I sent Elaine my guest list and she took it from there. She included one instruction in her invitation, to wear black. This was determined before talking with me and I was actually kind of bummed at first because I have a closet full of black and now I would have to find something different. The idea was for me to stand out as the bachelorette, and I kind of loved that. 

As the day neared for my party, I had a cream/sequinned dress that fit my role as "bride to be" perfectly. The group of girls invited were to meet at the hotel Elaine booked, a couple blocks from the club. Before I packed my overnight bag and left to get my makeup done and head to the hotel, Chazz had some concerns for the night. He wanted to know if I would be able to check in with him every so often. I scoffed, and told him that I wouldn't be allowed to talk to him and that I probably wouldn't even have my phone on me. He would have to wait until I got home the next day. Speaking to your fiance during your bachelorette party breaks the second cardinal rule! He would absolutely not be talking to me, but I gave him Elaine's number in case of emergency. 

After I get my make up done at MAC, I rush to get dressed at a friend's apartment. As I'm getting dressed and doing my hair, I am receiving notifications that some of the girls aren't wearing all black. I was super annoyed because I went through so much trouble to find the perfect "non-black" dress so that I would "stand out", and it was going to be for nothing! Part of me wanted to throw a fit and use the "it's my party!" card to get my way. I then decided these girls were paying to celebrate me and I was glad they were coming, so I let the dress code go. Finally, I'm finished getting ready and now there's no time to eat, I'm running late for my own party (go figure)! I make it to the hotel, with 2 friends traveling with me. We get up to our room and it's decked out in bachelorette items with snacks and TONS of liquor. Heck. Yes. We start taking shots and mingling and I notice there are cliques starting to form. I do my best to get everyone to mesh together, but once I started drinking, I didn't really care about it. I was going to have fun regardless. 

On our way out of the hotel, we stopped in the lobby to take a group photo. The front desk clerk sporting a teardrop tattoo on his face agreed to take our picture. As I was handing him my camera, I informed him I was the bride to be. He responded, "ok." What? OK?? Annoyed by his lack of excitement for me, I told him to congratulate me. He said, "I will." So I said, "tell me now." and he says, "I will." We go back and forth like this before I get furious, take my camera back, and demand that no one accept his services of taking our picture! The nerve!

We get to the club and are escorted to our VIP section. We had 3 white, plush sofas and honestly, I'm not really sure how many bottles. But there was a sparkler involved and that was fun. This is where the night turns blurry. I remember dancing barefoot on the sofa. A lot. I remember drinking. A lot. I remember Elaine and other friends taking shots out of my hand being mindful of my consumption. I remember meeting some of the cast from Big Rich Atlanta (thanks to the pictures on my phone). Then.... I remember sitting on the back of one of the sofas and being grabbed by friends to be rushed to the nearest bathroom. You can imagine what happened in there. One of the cliques had already left at that point and the girls were starting to disperse, so I decided to call it a night, although I don't remember doing so. I remember walking barefoot back to the hotel with Elaine (because who has time for shoes in the streets of Atlanta?) and meeting up with some of the girls back at the hotel. Apparently, two girls in my group were kicked out because one was vomiting in a nearby trashcan (this was probably when I was vomiting in the bathroom- classy). 

I changed into my PJ's and decided that I wanted to go home. Seriously? Who tries to leave their own party? I grab my phone and call Chazz. I have no idea what that conversation consisted of, I just remember a friend grabbing my phone, telling Chazz I was going to sleep and hanging up. I guess at some point after that, I hid under the covers and proceeded to call him 9 times. NINE TIMES! I broke my own rule! The only reason I know this is because the next morning I received a text from my husband to be, apologizing for missing my 9 calls and making sure I was okay. Whoopsies. 

I returned home in one piece feeling good about my night, not literally because I had a hangover from hell. My parade was almost rained on when there was a public clique vs. clique fight on our group photo that was posted to Facebook which went from bad to worse, quick. All of a sudden there were people joining in that didn't go out with us! Before you knew it, there were moms, family members, co-workers, you name it- joining in on it. Finally, after hours of bickering, the picture was deleted and everyone returned to their regularly scheduled programming. You can't win 'em all, I guess. But from what I remember, I had a blast. Although I should have submitted a complaint on teardrop front desk clerk. In fact, I still might. 

My Birthday

Things change as you get older, this we know. One of the things that change is celebrating your birthday. At least for me. The older you get, the less of a celebration it is. In fact, I think I just wanted to "celebrate" to avoid falling into a deep depression about my age. And this birthday, almost everything went wrong. 

I intially decided to have a pool party at our neighborhood pool that barely gets any use. I figured, it would be effortless and inexpensive and I hadn't had a pool party in years. The only problem(s) was that the weather was so unpredictable with rain/thunderstorms and the fact that I had been carb loading for weeks, I wasn't exactly "bikini ready" or life ready or bride ready for that matter. At the last minute, I cancelled the pool party and decided to get a group to go to Dave & Buster's, something else I hadn't done in years. 

Saturday rolls around, I actually wake up with a stomach ulcer, diagnosed by my Dr/brother-in-law, who says I can't have any spicy food, chocolate or alcohol. Um, excuse me, it's my birthday weekend. So after hours of agony and some OTC meds, I caught a break. Then somehow got tricked into going to the gym with Chazz to watch team training. After the gym we decided to grab lunch, but somehow ended up at the Atlanta Humane Society. I saw the cutest puppy (named Blinkin, seriously?), and of course, had to have her. An hour later, a new puppy was in route home with us and we still hadn't had lunch. Once we got home, I got puppy duty and Chazz went to get us Zaxby's. Kickin' chicken for me please! Although he brought home a regular sandwich since I "can't have spicy food." Before I knew it, it was time to get ready for the night and head out.

Meet Leila 

We get to D&B and it's PACKED. 7 of us try to cram into a booth unsuccessfully and our waiter clearly hated his job and possibly his life, and was miserable. Once everyone ate, we headed to the games and almost every single one was broken and we had to wait on a maintenance tech repeatedly. After complaining to the manager (who tried to get a 'tude with me) she credited my game card $10 and we called it a night shortly after. 

Sunday rolls around and I go to The Cheesecake Factory with my mom because it's our tradition. We get another crappy server, the manager has to come over three times, my mom doesn't even eat and after waiting far too long and being neglected, she pays the bill, we get free cheesecake (win) and we leave. Sunday night, Chazz pulls me away from the computer and wedding invitations to surprise me with an ice cream cake, roses and both dogs in birthday hats at midnight, insert "Awww" here. 

awwwww

Then, it's Monday, my actual birthday! Too bad I don't get to sleep in because I waited until the last minute and I have to get my license renewed. I get up at 6:30, shower, get dressed and pull into the Marietta DDS and soon realize by the lack of people/cars that all locations are closed on Mondays. I guess I should have shared the information with the poor souls standing in line but it was too early and I hadn't had coffee. I return home, and take a long, much needed nap. I woke up feeling like a million bucks and told Chazz I was ready to celebrate and on the agenda was to go to the Atlanta Food Truck Park and then the Georgia Aquarium, two places I had never been. We head toward the Food Truck Park, walk over and whaddya know- they're closed. For no specific reason. Totally bummed/annoyed, we end up at Willy's next door where a burrito and margarita sufficed, but not before I left a piece of my mind on the Atlanta Food Truck's Facebook page. 

After eating too much, we head to the aquarium. Fun fact, you get in free on your birthday! We got there just in time to catch the dolphin show. I. Just. Love. Dolphins. In fact, I love them so much that when the show started, I couldn't keep it together. I'm crying hysterically, then I start laughing at myself for crying and Chazz looks over, bewildered at my emotional state and asks how can I be crying at such a cheesy show, and I respond, in between sobs, "I feel bad for the dolphins, they aren't with their families in their natural habitat!" Chazz is hysterically laughing while I'm hysterically crying and it only gets worse with every trick the dolphins perform. 

After exploring the aquarium and it's entirety, we decided to finally put our P.F. Chang's gift card to good use and have my birthday dinner there (hey, we are planning a wedding and have a new puppy, we are on a budget). Only problem is, we can't find the gift card and go to plan B. Except there isn't a plan B and Chazz mentioned he wants pizza, and I could use a drink. I take to Yelp to make sure the Mellow Mushroom in Vinings has a full bar, it does, and we head that way. We finally find parking, walk inside to discover.. they DON'T have a full bar. So, Chazz insists we leave to get me that drink and because it's getting late and we have two dogs at home, I suggest Jock & Jill's, a nearby sports bar with decent food but mostly, a bar and convenient location. I figure since there's a baseball game playing, it will be full of sports fans. Well, there were about 5 people, including Chazz and me and it wasn't exciting at all. I order a margarita on the rocks, no salt, the waitress checks my ID, doesn't wish me a happy birthday and brings me my drink with salt. Chazz didn't mention to any one is was my birthday so if there were perks, I didn't get any. Totally not how I wanted to end the day or how I envisioned my birthday dinner. Chazz was a good sport and we did everything I wanted to do with no complaints. I just had some bad karma, I guess. 

I guess the point is, I tried to make sure everything was "perfect" and nothing went the way I planned. I should have just enjoyed the aquarium and a (planned) dinner at a fun place and called it a year. I guess this was good practice not to have such high expectations for our wedding and accept that things can go wrong, and life will go on. Now my bachelorette party, that's a different story and it must be perfect!

Champion

Hi wonderful readers..

This post isn't an embarrassing story, but one that I feel like needs to do my papa bear justice!

As you all know, Chazz is a MMA fighter with an undefeated record of 4-0 (whoo hoo!). His last fight was in December (ya know, the one where he proposed.. no big deal) then shortly after that victory he had appendicitis which put him on a fighting hiatus. He was beyond ready to get back on the horse and decided to take a TITLE Muay Thai fight to get him back in his element before his next MMA fight next month. For those of you that don't know the difference between Muay Thai and MMA, here's some very basic knowledge (fighters reading, don't crucify me): basically, it's total stand-up striking for the most part. You do a lot of work from the clinch (google that if you must), use elbows, knees, kicks, etc. As with any fighting style, there are different rules in different states and different rules for amateur vs. professional. But, for the most part, the rules are pretty standard.



My copilot



The fight opportunity was scheduled to be at The Renaissance Vinoy Hotel in St. Petersburg, Fl (google this hotel). Having never been to St. Pete, I was thrilled to have an all expense paid trip to the beach! The odd part was that, although Chazz is 4-0 in MMA, he is 0-0 in Muay Thai and you normally don't get a title fight for your first time fighting a new style. Before finalizing the contract, the ISKA initially said the fight couldn't happen because Chazz is 0-0. The promoter was eager to have Chazz fight for the title and was able to use his grappling record as "point fighting" and the ISKA agreed to let it happen. Chazz started his training right away and didn't miss a beat. Before we knew it, it was weight cut time, where he dropped from 173-157 in 4 days (makes me sick), and then it was time to head on down! After 7 hours of driving while Chazz slept like a great co-pilot, we arrived and checked in! The problem was that we got there hours earlier than weigh-ins and the hunger/irritability was starting to kick in. Being the amazing fiance that he is, he agreed to take me to the pool. It was a little difficult for him when he could smell the hot wings and fellow sun bathers were ordering pina coladas at the pool bar, but he still participated and even bought me a fancy pool drink.



Mango mojito!



Fast forward a couple hours, we head downstairs to weigh in. Weigh-ins went well, Chazz and his opponent are both on weight and ready for battle the following night. It wasn't until that moment that we determined that the promoter was also the opponent's coach. After weigh ins the 3 of us (Chazz, his manager, and I) went to eat sushi for the post weigh in meal. After talking with each other, that's when we determined why the promoter wanted Chazz. It was simple, Chazz was to be the "sacrificial lamb" to get his guy his first win since junior league. Which also explained why he was willing to manipulate Chazz's record to get the ISKA to agree to the fight. Knowing this, I think it aided in Chazz's drive to want to win.

After packing on some pounds, Saturday/fight night is upon us and we hit the pool until having to go to the fighter meeting at 4:30pm. When we head downstairs, the promoter is running an hour behind schedule. Chazz's manager asks if we can go back to our room and be called when the meeting is about to start. The promoter confirms he has Chazz's cell number and says, "sure I'll text you when we are about to start." The next text was from Chazz to the promoter asking when the meeting was to start since we hadn't heard anything to which the promoter responded, "it's already over." Shocked, Chazz says, "I thought you were going to tell me when it was about to start." No response. When we head back down, we run into the promoter and Chazz's manager is able to say, "you never called us about the meeting. What did we miss? Is it regular rules?" Promoter, "oh yeah, yeah it's regular rules." Manager again, "regular Thai rules, right?" Promoter, "yes, regular rules." Game on. We watch some of the bouts then head to start warming up.

While warming up, I learn that they didn't require blood work or a current vision test. Hm, weird. I also learned that they only had two pair (red/blue) of head gears and shin guards. So basically, each fighter was passing one set to the next fighter. Which is actually pretty disgusting. Maybe why the sport isn't for me. Anyway, Chazz is warmed up and I pray for us and we head into the venue (did I mention I was in the corner?). Chazz and his opponent are both waiting outside of the same double doors to be announced into the ring. Awkward. His opponent is announced first, and then my honey. This is also where we learned that not only was the promoter the guy's coach, but also in his corner (tasteless). Chazz being from GA, fighting in the other guy's hometown, the crowd wasn't thrilled to see him fight. I don't care who you are, that has to affect your subconscious. Most athletes thrive off of the crowd's energy. Fight starts, they are going at it. Chazz is KILLING it in the clinch. His opponent is dropping like a fly. Just about every 10 seconds, he was down again, it seemed. Chazz had a noticeable adrenaline dump that affected his defense a bit, but he was winning, no doubt about it. In between rounds, his manager is cornering him and motivating him and doing all things a corner man should do while I stand there on the steps and look pretty in my fight shirt. And that's because in between one round I stepped up to add some encouraging words and Chazz accidentally spit blood in my face, and into my eye. Knowing that it was unnecessary to bring it to any one's attention, I knew better than to not mention it. But, I did anyway because I'm terrible at hiding emotions/facial expressions and I'm panicking on the inside because THERE'S BLOOD IN MY EYE. Yet, no one seemed to care. Whatever, it was traumatic for me.    

4th round (out of 5), these kids behind us start talking crap about Chazz's fighting. Not one to shy from confrontation, Chazz's manager turns around to yell, "actually it's legal." They were obviously idiots who didn't know anything about Muay Thai. Shortly after, the ISKA rep comes over to our corner to inform us that was Chazz is doing is not legal. The following dialogue:
Manager, "what do you mean it's not legal? It's a Thai fight."
ISKA, "no, it's not. It's Oriental Rules Kickboxing"
Manager, "WTF- the fight was sold to us as a Thai fight and we confirmed with the promoter it was a Thai fight. This is what we've been training for."
ISKA- "No, it's not Thai and it was discussed at the fighter's meeting"

At this point, the bell rings for the end of the 4th round and as Chazz's manager is having choice words with ISKA, Chazz is yelling that he needs a stool and water. Frantic, having never had these responsibilities, I trip getting water, can't get the stool through the ropes and yell for his manager to join, except he doesn't hear. Once he joins Chazz in the corner he briefly informs Chazz that he hasn't been getting any points for the clinch work, and that the scoring is different than we thought. Chazz isn't comprehending this, he's in fight mode! Last round and then the official decision. The announcer tells us that it's a split decision and raises the other guy's hand. Chazz. Is. Devastated. I'm devastated for him. His manager is off somewhere yelling at someone about the whole thing. I don't know what to say, all I know is that I want to get Chazz out of there. So when the doctor asks for Chazz's shinguards and headgear, I tell him that we aren't doing it there, we are going back to our locker room (you aren't going to make MY baby stand there in defeat in front of his opponent's cheering fans)! Once in the locker room, his manager and myself are trying to explain what happened. It wasn't until hours later, once the adrenaline died down, Chazz understood what we were telling him and couldn't believe it. It's always disappointing to have faith in a person that turns out to just have bad intentions. Chazz wasn't defeated. He may not have lost, but by technicalities. It wasn't fair what happened to him. But, as those of us that have ever lost know you can't appreciate winning if you never lose. He's now taking it in stride and ready to get in the cage in a couple weeks. To the shady promoter- you'll get what's coming to you. And we took two of the hotel's beach towels, I hope you have to pay for them.



Worth it for me!



I Can't Feel My Face

Although wedding planning is extremely stressful and overwhelming, there are perks and exciting things that come with it, too. One of those being... taking engagement photos!

I had been looking forward to our engagement shoot for months. We planned to wait until March when the weather started warming up (this was being planned in January). I had my outfits picked out and locations nailed down.

We opted to shoot on Saturday, March 16th. The first location was scheduled to be at Little 5 Points, but, forgetting about St. Patrick's Day that Sunday, Little 5 was not an option. So, we went ahead to Atlantic Station. Atlantic Station was also crazy busy with early St. Patty's celebrations but luckily, the crowds/festivals didn't really affect our shooting and we got some great shots. Making great progress, we decide to stop and grab a bite to eat before heading to our final location, Piedmont Park. In order to catch the perfect lighting and to avoid any more Atlanta traffic, we sat and had Willie's right outside of the park. I should say Chazz and our photographer had Willie's, I drank my dinner, in the form of a margarita (it was worth the calories).



We eat, chat, talk wedding/life stuff and move on to finish our pictures before the sun sets completely. Our photographer has us move to this rock ledge so she can get the sky line behind us. She has us sit (which was little difficult up there in a dress and heels when you haven't been able to wear heels in two months due to a broken foot) on the ledge to get a couple sweet shots of us. As we're sitting there, I'm thinking to myself, "ow, these rocks are really uncomfortable and hurting." I readjust a few times because sitting on rocks in a dress isn't comfortable. Finally, we get to take some pictures standing. As I stand up and straighten my dress, I notice ants on my legs! Trying to avoid a scene (and probably with the help of that margarita) I am calmly brushing the ants off of me. OK, it was actually a little frantic as I panic to get them off. I lift my dress up slightly and ask Chazz if he sees any. His response, "babe, watch your dress out here- stop hiking it up!" to which I responded, with a glare, "Chazz, I have been sitting in ants, I do not care about lifting my dress up!" 



The shot that caused the ant bites







Luckily, we were done at the rock ledge and we could change into our casual outfit (skinny jeans for me). I didn't really feel a lot of bites at that moment, again, I think due to that margarita. We walk down to the dock to take pictures at the lake when I say to Chazz, "I can't feel my top lip." I'm a little worried because I am allergic to bee stings and although I have had reactions in the past, never to ants and no part of my face ever went numb. Chazz kind of brushes it off so I figure I'm being paranoid. We're smiling, kissing, holding hands, ya know, all the stuff you do when you take pictures that portray your love for one another, when my bottom lip went numb. I say to both Chazz and the photographer, "OK, I can't feel my bottom lip now. Should I be worried?" No one makes a big deal about it, I think I'm still being a hypochondriac. Then I feel my inner ear burning, and I feel relief if I scratch it (oh God, I'm Hitch right now! -was what I was thinking). Still, no one notices anything weird about me so I try to ignore it. Then my eyes started feeling itchy, I thought it was those dang false eyelashes until our photographer asks, "Are you OK? Your eyes are really red." Then I feel itchy on my arm. I show Chazz where I'm itching and say, "am I breaking out in hives?" He looks at me and says, "no, you're fine. You have one little bump on your neck, it looks like a bug bite (oh, like an ANT BITE?)."

Trying to stay calm and trust those around me we set up our next shot. I'm smiling although I can't feel my face, lips specifically, and am now unsure about continuing this. Suddenly, Chazz pulls my face toward his and says, "oh babe, I think you're breaking out." Unable to see myself, I already know what's happening. I'm breaking out in hives, only I'm unaware my face is swelling. I take a snapshot of myself to see the damage and PANIC. It's unreal. I'm snapping at Chazz, needing to get out of there ASAP before someone sees me or before I like, die. Chazz thinks it's appropriate to call me Hitch at that point. It wasn't. It was too soon.




In the car at CVS

 Chazz is trying to remain calm in my state of panic, but his calmness is making my panic worse, because he's clearly not taking this serious. We GPS the closest pharmacy and he runs in to find Benadryl and Calamine Lotion while I'm stripping down to my underwear and scratching frantically in the car. We get home, I rush to the shower to make sure the ants and their venom are gone. The shower was terrible, as it had to be cold and the Benadryl  hadn't kicked in. Finally, it kicks in and I go right to sleep (I am extremely sensitive to Benadryl, add that to the list). My face is back to normal in about 24 hours and even with about 40 ant bites per leg, the ER was avoided.

So, the bad news is that, along with bees, I'm allergic and I should probably have an EpiPen on me like my dad used to carry. The good news, our pictures weren't completely ruined and Chazz still loves me literally, at my worst.



I'm a pretty princess



Really?

The reason I haven't had a post in a while is because nothing funny or embarrassing has happened to me. Aside from my life. Let me explain.

 

In my last post I told you all about my wonderful engagement. Well, shortly after that, my trip to Cloud 9 was ended abruptly when I had to take Chazz to the emergency room for lower abdomen pain. That lower abdomen pain was actually appendicitis. Appendicitis= emergency surgery. Emergency surgery = no more engagement cloud 9. Poor guy, he was also feeling really great with his recent win and had even been offered a title fight. The surgery set him back about 6-8 weeks.



Pre-Surgery, poor baby.



Surgery, smergery! Chazz's surgery went great, and me (being the wonderful fiance that I am) spent the night at the hospital with him and even put up with him waking me up around 3am wanting to talk and watch TV (pain meds...). Recovery was a tough pill to swallow at first, no pun intended, because he had to grasp the fact he couldn't do any training, or even work for a week, for that matter. 



Being a good fiance



BUT- my papa bear is a strong one and he was back to normal in no time.

Fast forward a few weeks, we return back to Wild Bills, this time to just watch the fights. We have a few drinks, eat poorly and overall have an awesome time.

We get home, probably around 2:00am (ish) and somehow in the midst of getting ready for bed, I manage to hit the top/side of my foot. I start crying, which isn't uncommon, aware that I could be being a bit melodramatic. When I couldn't put any weight on it that's when Chazz forced me to go to the ER. Lo and behold, it's broken.

I am stuck wearing this "wooden shoe" for another three weeks and honestly, the mental aspect of this whole thing is way worse than the physical. Take away an active person's lifestyle from them, you have a problem. Take away an active person/shoe addict 's lifestyle AND their shoe collection, you have one depressed person. Ah, the things we take for granted...

But seriously, for someone who trains a martial art (Jiu-Jitsu), I break my foot on my bed post??? That's the lamest thing ever. Although I did tell a stranger I broke it in a sky diving accident and that was fun.