Thursday, August 24, 2006

And the beat goes on

It's just gone 11.30pm and I have FINALLY finished my work. There is no greater feeling than pressing the 'send' button on an email knowing that you won't have to deal with something again for a good three weeks. Sheer bliss.

Today was another day of almost farcical proportions in terms of interruptions. There was the man who came (unannounced) to check our water meter, the phone call from a reporter at the Wall Street Journal for an interview about my interest in the TV series ‘The Office, ' and a call from the venue where we are having our ceremony asking what our schedule was, and expressing surprise that they were in fact responsible for serving champagne and canapés. In the case of the latter, to say that I had something short of a shit fit is to put it lightly. We're getting married there in a week - and they didn't know what time were were getting married, and that they were watering people after?! Isn't this what we pay our planner to do?!?

Then there was the out of the blue call from my mother telling me she had purchased a stick-on plastic bra for me in a D cup. This may not seem strange to some people who frequently discuss underwear made out of flammable materials with their mothers, but I had never expressed the need for, nor mentioned my desire to own one of these contraptions to her - ever. I have no idea why she did it, but I didn't want to appear rude or ungrateful. I did however subtly mentioned that the possibility of something that was (a) plastic, (b) stick on, and (c) lacked industrial-strength straps or some sort of corseting, had little chance of supporting my bust in the gravity stakes, but she remained optimistic, so I said I'd give it a try.

Tomorrow I am confirming final numbers with the caterer, including three vegetarians and one person who is lethally allergic to fish, fish sauce, in fact anything that has even been near a fish. Then there's the table plans to email through so the Japanese calligrapher can start on the place names, and a reminder to the DJ that the birdie song or anything that inspires people to adopt any bird or animal characteristics on the dance floor will not be required. Ditto re. any sort of spontaneous group/square dancing of the Lionel Ritchie 'Dancing on the ceiling' or Macarena ilk. Oh, and my sister Chantell has requested 'Can't touch this' by MC Hammer.

5 comments:

Louise said...

I hope your DJ has a copy of the Ketchup song.... :)

magazeen said...

The bra thing is my fault. I asked mom to get me one, and said I would check AND CALL HER if you wanted one. I never called, she bought it anyway. Sorry!

Ugly Pig said...

What's wrong with MC Hammer ? At least I didn't request "stuck on a feeling" by the Hof ....

letters from london said...

It's 'High on a feeling'. Considering you are the London face of the International Hoff Fan Club, I'm surprised you didn't know that. I'm afraid no Hoff songs at the wedding, though I have requested his greatest hits CD for your hotel room. Just a little something to lull you to sleep at night.

Anonymous said...

Please don't let "911" get anywhere near the venue! Or Greg's other favourite, "Fuck the police". You'd never guess that by day he's a mild-mannered accountant...

Anything I can do, write horrible letters to people threatening legal action (my specality), or anything, just yell. Or whimper.

Can't wait to see what you've got organised in France; I am sure it will be out-of-this-world-amazing. And sincere thanks for accomodating my vegetarian-ness.