A wedding recap...

It was on a farm in the mountains.
Asheville is pretty.
Our B&B was beyond gorgeous (hello, big ass feather bed!).
The Fun Girls were there.
The wedding itself was very Aleigh & Ian (and if you don't know them, you'll have to take my word for it. It was on a lovely farm in the mountains of North Carolina.

I met a llama (and for those of you who have been reading my blog for some time, you know that the llama is my spirit animal and I am a llama whisperer).

There was much merriment. Erin gives her version here. And if you gather from her post that I was the uptight finger wagging one on the trip, you're sorely mistaken. I was just the only one not drinking. But Jemima knows I can be trouble (make sure you read through to the part about where I tell Ian's brother-in-law that I have a good divorce lawyer on speed dial...ON VIDEO).

The only thing that was missing from our weekend was that Aleigh couldn't stay with us too! Of course, there was the getting married thing and the husband-to-be and all. So I'm about to be really, disgustingly mushy right now. You might want to sit down for this one. Even though weddings (and marriage) aren't my thing, I am so happy to have been part of my Gal Pal Al's nuptials. It's rare to know two people who are so perfectly matched, and to share in the beginning of a long and happy union. Yes, I did cry at the wedding. Because I was happy. And if you don't believe me, Jem took a photo. Bizzatch.

If you need immediate assistance, you're out of luck...

I've been on vacation all week and am now getting ready to leave for Asheville for my friend Aleigh's lovely wedding. There will be a carriage house, a rehearsal dinner, some Asheville sightseeing, and a wedding on a farm in the mountains. I won't be back until Tuesday of next week, so in lieu of a vacation post, I'll leave you with the following list (even though I'm not technically being a house guest this week, I have often been a house guest and hope to be one again in the future):

Why I am a poor houseguest...
I do not make the bed when I leave. (a) I assume my host will want to wash the sheets after I leave so they will be clean for the next guest, therefore making the bed is a waste of time and (b) I am spoiled and rarely make my own bed.

I leave odd things behind, like glitter, cat hair, and ominous quotes scribbled on Post-Its ("Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink." ~Charles Bukowski).

I smoke on the front porch in my pajamas and I don't care what your neighbors think.

I hog the television remote and insist on watching cartoons from around 11pm to 1am.

I feed your dog french fries until it farts, then complain about the smell.

There. I feel better. Now that I've put it all out there, let me also add that I try to balance out my faults by being entertaining, buying dinner (even if it's only a sack of tiny burgers from Krystal), and leaving good things like caramel crunch trail mix and Xanax behind. That said, I'm open to any invitations for the summer that might involve your guest room in your apartment in Paris, your country home, or being a third wheel for the weekend at your cabin in the mountains.