My Face is On Drugs!

And this is for Kathy, because believe it or not, this has to do with wedding koo koo. Sorta.

I recently went to see a dermatologist. This is not something I'd normally do, except that I am convinced that I will be sporting a huge horn on my wedding day.

I get the deep, angry break outs once in a while. The kind that threaten to swell one eye shut, the kind that hurt with no physical pressure other than the breeze.

A friend recommended I either visit a dermatologist, or feign some kind of cold a week before the wedding and hope a Dr. gave me some antibiotics.

With my luck, I knew better than to try the acting gig.

I came out of the Dr.'s office armed with a prescription for some kind of antibiotic goo. I've been using it now for about a month, and everything is working out just fine. Jibber jabber cake.

So then, the other day C and I are driving around that part of town where the Dr.'s office is. I, for whatever reason, decide he should know "That street right there is were my face doctor is." He kind of looked at me for a second, and then I added "Yeah! My face is on drugs!"

C says "It's a really good thing people can't hear us sometimes."

Oh, and C's ring for the big day? It's in 3 parts. It fits all together and looks like one ring, but for comfort and ease of movement in that finger, it remains as 3 sorta band-like pieces.

There are currently wagers with Vegas odds as to whether I manage to toss one, two or all three pieces around the church in an attempt to get them on his finger.

If I were you, I'd go for at least two.

Just ask C. We've had morning conversations that go like this:

C: "How did one of your slippers get in the guest room, and one get in the closet in the bedroom? How does that happen?"

Me: "I don't know. All I remember is trying to put my pants on this morning and I only had one slipper on."