Dear everyone,

Jeeze, I’ve never had writer’s block this bad before, if you can consider blogging writing. It’s like my sense of humor has been drained by a…by a…damn, something funny should go here. By a Dyson vacuum cleaner? See what I mean? It’s awful. I blame it on stress. And Netflix. But mainly stress.

The fiancée and I have been trying to save money. For the wedding. For the house. We cancelled cable, and we drink orange juice from concentrate. No cable and orange juice from concentrate? Why, we might as well live as peasants in a third-world country!

Our offer on that house got rejected, which was ridiculous and very disappointing and makes me just want to collapse in bed with my favorite Care Bear and not get up until we magically have a kickass house with a garden. This particular house was falling apart, and we were kind enough to offer to buy it, and the stupid bank said our offer was too low. Fine, we said, we’ll increase the offer by $40,000. It’s fun to play with incomprehensible sums of money that you don’t yet have: “We’ll increase our bid by 40K and 12 unicorns!”

Our new agent, however, advised against it, saying he had a bad feeling about the house, which made me think that it may be haunted by ghosts, goblins, our worse, Tea Party Republicans. We will drive around again, wandering the city like sad spirits, looking for another place.

While we’re looking for this house, Jameelah continues planning this wedding, which is only months away (July), and we haven’t even booked the face painter yet! Our plan is to get a house, then have a wedding there, which I think is an awesome idea, because then we could buy $5 tikki bamboo torches and space them around the backyard. Then Jameelah could wear a hula dress and a coconut bra and we could exchange pineapples carved with our vows.

But my ideas always get vetoed.

Work is going well, and by well I mean that the Dragon has been going around attacking other community groups, using our organizational name, calling them communists and so on, so then those groups threaten to sue our little nonprofit, so then I bring it up to our board, which starts a huge argument where at least one person nearly got stabbed by a ball-point pen, but luckily we don’t have much funding for supplies, so no one got stabbed.

Today I came back from facilitating my second monthly neighborhood group meeting. 30 people were present, one of whom was a 70-year-old gentleman named “Joe,” who didn’t like the fact that I moved people into a circle seating arrangement. He sat with arms folded, frowning, while we did the icebreaker, which involved cards and was fun. Otherwise, things are going as planned. Soon I’ll be able to propose my genius plan: Edible parking stickers. Look, they leave residues on your car windows, OK? That’s unsightly.

I called Mr. No to see if I could replace the Tempurpedic pillow I stole from him. Couldn’t reach him. I’ll try again later.

Going back to the wedding, which has been keeping me up at night, mainly because I worry that Jameelah is going to strangle me in my sleep for responding to her questions such as “How do you prefer my hair for the wedding? Up or down” with answers such as “I cannot even comprehend that question. It does not register in my brain at all.” But also, what if we don’t find the right house in time? What do we do?!! Here, it’s been a while since we voted on anything. Please submit your advice, or else pick from one or more of the following:

  1. Get married in your tiny 600-foot apartment. Give all four guests surgical masks so they’re not affected by mold
  2. Wait till someone with a big house goes on vacation, then sneak into and use their house
  3. Get married at a hotel or restaurant, like normal people who drink orange juice not from concentrate
  4. Delay wedding till house is found; annoy relatives and potentially get murdered by fiancée.
  5. Elope, then come back and have a house party after house is bought
  6. What? You’re worried about a wedding?! Our government has grown bloated! Join us Tea Bagging Republicans so we can work together usher in a Palinistic theocracy that will save us all!
  7. Stop trying to buy a house altogether. Oooh, a house with a yard and a picket fence. Such a cliché.
  8. Cryogenically freeze selves, then get unfrozen in the future, when marriage as an institution is outdated, and people are grouped in government-assigned social pods.
  9. I don’t care, as long as you have cute party favors

Today a recently married friend told me that being married is the greatest gift in the world. That makes no sense to me. Of course, this was my college friend Anita, who firmly believes that people can live off of love. “Enjoy planning your wedding,” she texted, “it only happens once.” So does an appendectomy.

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