Dearly Beloved...

We have gathered here today to witness the complete and total meltdown of a bride-to-be.

Seriously, this is my 100th post and it was supposed to be really, really, REALLY great. Awesome, even. But I kept having these little freak outs so I kept putting off writing my 100th post, because I thought that if I was all "Bridezilla" in here, it might be weird and freaky and strange and then my 100th post would forever be known as the post that made people stop reading my blog. Except today I realized that I haven't posted here in almost a month and another really good way to make people stop reading your blog is to just completely stop posting in it and also to pretty much disappear from the internet completely. So, you know...given the two options, I went with "Bridezilla - blog writer." Please accept my apologies for what is, unfortunately, my official (but not really great or awesome) 100th post:

"I Am Not Afraid To Blow Up My Beautiful New House Just To Destroy Your Zombie Asses"
~ a mostly true story by Bridezilla

My house is infested with ants. They were NOT here last year...I'm pretty sure they actually showed up right about the time I was writing in here, all "Check it out you guys! Zombie ants! Coooooooooool!" And then all the zombie ants got together and were like, "Check it out you guys, this chick LOVES zombie ants...Paaaaaar -tay!" And then they got in their little zombie ant bus and hightailed it over to my house for their zombie ant party which I did NOT give anyone permission to throw and now, every day of my life is spent trying to plan a wedding and work and do battle with the largest colony of zombie ants I have ever seen in my life. At first I tried to gently coax them to leave...I cleaned all of my counter tops and floors with white vinegar and sprinkled baby powder all over the place and sealed up all of the people food and the dog food in plastic containers and was all, "See, ants? I'm your friend...I'm not even trying to kill you or anything, I just think you guys should maybe party somewhere else?" And the ants were all, "Ok, sweet, sorry lady, we'll leave," and then they left and came back with a gazillion of their friends and were all, "HA! In your FACE, lady! Let the zombie ant party continue!" and they started shaking their asses and drinking wine straight out of the box and doing jello shots.

So then, I went and got some grits and some yeast and spread it all over the place because I read that the ants will take all of that stuff back to the mother ship and get really bad gas and also get dehydrated and then probably not come back to my house because the food sucks.

Except...no. Not so much. They left for a few days and then brought a gazillion trillion friends back with them and also, they did eat all of that stuff I gave them and it did give them gas and I'm pretty sure that what I thought was smelly socks is really just a bunch of ant farts.

So then, because I'm still trying to be all nice and organic and environmentally friendly and stuff, I dug up a bunch of ant colonies and moved them all over the house because all of the ant experts said that when you do that, the ants will battle to the death. Except farting zombie ants don't battle to the death...they become super best friends and throw raves and invite all of the other ants from the neighborhood over and get drunk and listen to techno all night.

So I gave in and bought some ant spray. Except it wasn't like I was all peaceful and calm and went to the store like a normal person and bought some ant spray. I woke up in the morning, went to check my mail, saw the ants in my mailbox and went completely apeshit crazy for a little while. I jumped into my car - in my pajamas (which aren't cute pajamas, they're actually extra large, paint splattered, holey guys sweat pants with the pee hole saftey pinned shut and a too small t-shirt with what I think is a large grass stain over the left boob), with my crazy half flat, half afro "just woke up hair", gigantic eye boogers, and some wicked morning breath -and drove to the closest store. Then, because I was at least sane enough to know that my breath could kill someone, I refused to ask anyone for help finding the ant spray and instead wandered back and forth throught the same aisles over and over and over again like the neighborhood crazy person.

I'm not 100% sure, but knowing me, I was probably singing, too. Crazy neighborhood singing crazy person that finally walked up to the counter with about 10 cans of ant spray, a bunch of ant stakes, a bunch of ant hotels and the latest issue of InStyle magazine...which, given my appearance, either came off as a joke or a desperate plea for help.

I went home...I did not shower, brush my hair, brush my teeth, or change into a normal, sane person outfit. Instead, I began spraying and staking and setting up hotels all over my house and outside...and being all, "YEAH! Suckers! Take that, you zombie techno asshats! Where ya gonna live, now, HUH??? Whatcha gonna do when you're all DEAD!??!?!" And my neighbor across the street was outside weeding her lawn so I tried to keep it down a little bit so I bent down to kind of whisper/yell at the ants and probably all my neighbor lady saw was the crazy outfit and the crazy hair and me talking to my yard and she was probably really glad that I moved into the neighborhood.

Also...the ants did not die. I think I overheard them talking about having a music festival on my front porch...I think they have cell phones and computers and twitter and facebook pages and are networking with every other ant in the world and inviting them all to my house.

It's very difficult to battle the world's largest army of zombie, techno, farting ants when you are trying to plan a wedding. The good news is, we asked for Lowes gift cards as wedding gifts....so that maybe when we are reduced to blowing up our house to kill the zombie-techo-farting ant army, we can maybe build a new house. And the neighbors won't think I'm crazy anymore.

P.S. Ant experts are idiots.


P.P.S. This video is appropriate because of the above post and also, because I really, really SUPER need to have a wedding photo based on this theme and James is being all, "That's really dumb, I'm not doing that," and he's totally trying to sabotage my...I mean our....wedding day and probably his mom is going to be really mad at him and more than a little hurt because our wedding pictures are going to suck so bad. Clearly, James doesn't care about moms.

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Check out who totally sucks! Oh, wait...it's me.

I know I haven't been around but I have really good excuses. First, there's the wedding and all of the time I have to take out of my day to imaginarily kung fu people into doing my bidding. Second...

...actually, the ninja fantasies pretty much take up most of my time. Priorities, you know.

I was going to talk about wedding stuff today, like how James and I went and saw "Wolverine" and decided to photoshop walls of flames and exploding helicopters into all of our wedding photos...or how I almost got a wedding cake shaped like David Bowie's pants in Labyrinth...but then I got distracted by the weirdest/coolest/bizarre-est(est?) thing ~

ZOMBIE ANTS!





Seriously, I'm not even joking. These parasites get into the ant heads and start munching on their brains and then the ants...without their brains...leave their ant families and wander the countryside for 2 whole weeks while they search for human flesh...then their heads just fall off!

Ok, maybe they don't search for human flesh (as far as we know), but all of that other stuff is true.

See? Zombies are real, just like I've been telling everybody all along. Probably now people will start listening to me about Jason Voorhies and Freddy Krueger and that clown from Poltergeist whose head I swear to God I saw in a box at the Goodwill with a bunch of other clown heads just the other day...which, by the way, a box of clown heads is super creepy even if one of the clown heads doesn't belong to the creepy clown from Poltergeist (which it did.) People at the Goodwill are seriously messed up.


I also got distracted by this video because at one point they say something about British people having gigantic heads and you guys all know that my head is pretty ginormous...so I'm totally British, just like Madonna!



P.S. My next post will be my 100th. I'm going to have a give-away. I'm pretty excited about it. I have the coolest prize picked out and some other stuff but I'm open to some more ideas...what do you think I should give away?

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I would so ninja kick bridezilla's ass...seriously.

So, I'm channeling all of my wedding stress into really complex ninja fantasies, where anyone that aggravates me even the slightest bit gets a serious ninja beatdown from me...

At the office supply store, the lady that was standing in front of the paper that I really REALLY needed...the lady that wouldn't move because she had to stand there and talk on the phone...even though she obviously didn't need any paper...and I really did...and this was the 5th store that I'd been to...and I'm super stressed out...and I was all sweet and stuff and she was totally NOT...

...she got the most serious ninja beatdown of them all...

Me: "Excuse me, ma'am, might I just squeeze past you and get that batch of paper there?"
Evil Lady: "Meh...hmphh...no."
Me: "Ma'am, it would only take just a second and I'll be out of your way in a jiffy!" (check out how sweet I am)
Evil Lady: "Pffffffffft...meh." (I KNOW! Can you believe this chick?)
Me: "Ma'am, I suggest you step aside before I unleash the horror."
Evil Lady: "Heh...please....harumph."

...and then I totally did....I unleashed the horror. I grabbed a pack of 30% post consumer recycled cardstock, real quick origami'd them into chinese throwing stars and whipped a swarm of them at her head...

...she was all "Aiiiiieeeeeeee!" and was yelling into her bluetooth head set thing for somebody to help her...but nobody can protect you from "The Horror" (that's my ninja name ~ it's pretty awesome)...then she tried to run but she tripped over her bright orange Crocs because everybody knows that Crocs suck for running...then I did a double back flip and landed on the top shelf where normally you're not even allowed to reach for stuff up there without assistance but I'm a ninja so that doesn't apply to me...anyway, I combined my ninja skills with some wrestler moves and I dropped down and body slammed her. Then I dug my elbows into her back (I do this to James all of the time and he freaks out so I know it hurts pretty bad) and I was all, "Who doesn't get their paper, now, HUH? Meh meh, right? RIGHT????"

...and then my phone rang and I snapped out of it and she wasn't even there anymore so I got my paper.

People are so lucky I'm not a real ninja...yet.

P.S. I was telling James about this and how my ninja name is "The Horror" and he was all, "your ninja name is the whore?" and I was like, "no, it's The Horror, like...I'm scary...I'm The Horror," and he was all, "What's so scary about a whore?" and I was like, "I'm not a WHORE, I'm The Horror, I'm a ninja and that's my ninja name, I'm The Horror, asshole!" and James was like, "Stop yelling about being a whore!" and I was all, "I'm not a whore!!!" and then we remembered we were in a restaurant and people were staring so we told them that we were planning our wedding and everyone kind of nodded knowingly and went back to eating their food because apparently everyone goes through this.

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It's really hard to get anything accomplished when there's a bounty on your head.

James and several drag queens tried to kill me this week.


I'm not lying.

James and I got in an argument and when I got home he had booby trapped the house in an obvious attempt to murder me. I unlocked the door, walked in...

Me: Ah!oh!Shi...what the f....ouch! Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
James: What happened? Why are you hugging the post?
Me: Did you use Pledge to clean the floor?
James: I don't know...I used that orange smelling stuff.
Me: Pledge?
James: I don't know...it smelled good. Why are you hugging the post?
Me: You used Pledge to clean a ceramic tile floor...
James: Yeah, I know, I cleaned today. Ok...?
Me: You oiled the floor!
James: What? Oh...wow...that's pretty slippery, huh?
Me: Help.

Later on in the week, we went to a drag show. Apparently, if you go to a drag show and you tip one drag queen five dollars, the rest of the drag queens form a drag queen posse and try to murder you by taking you out at the feet. Drag queens have big feet....because they're actually dudes....dressed as girls...who wear really high heels...like, size 12 platform stillettos...which hurt like hell when they land on your little ballet slipper clad girl feet.

Me: Ouch.
Drag Queen 1: Oh girl! I am so sorry!
Me: Oooooh...ow!
Drag Queen 2: Oh girl! I am so sorry!
Me: Foot! You're on my foot!
Drag Queen 3: Oh girl! I am so sorry!

And so it went...all night.

My feet were purple the next day. Actually, they're still purple...with a tinge of yellow. Pretty.

So, you know...If you don't see me for a while, look for James and look for drag queens because they're clearly out to get me. Or maybe they're just trying to get my imaginary baby (76th trimester and still going....).

P.S. If you're ever arguing with someone and the whole argument is stupid and pointless and you just want it to be over...first, start talking about cake and second, step back from the situation and watch this video:

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I have to sew a vagillion yards of pink and green ruffles on my wedding dress so I got you this video to tide you over until my next real blog post

This is a commercial. A real commercial. It's amazing. Apparently it made some people really mad. Those people have no sense of humor.



I saw this over on the Bust Magazine site...just one more reason for me to love them.

Also, I'm really behind on reading all of your blogs and I feel awful and I miss you and I want you to know that I will be there soon and I will pick a huge fight with you to make up for my absence...I swear...it's just this wedding stuff, you know? It's kicking my butt. Big time.

(If you're on Facebook and you're reading this, I bet you're all confused because you can't see the video...but you could if you were at www.loveheylola.com.)

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Rest in Peace, Phone.

This is my old phone:





Well, not actually my phone...it's a picture of somebody elses phone that I stole off of the internet because I never actually took a picture of my phone. Anyway, whatever...that's what my phone looked like except my phone is dead. I liked my phone. It didn't have an antenna or a camera or a text message plan or the internet and all of the paint was wearing off of it and the hinge part was really wobbly and I really, really liked it. For the last two weeks I've been trying to convince James and my Anonymous Friend that my phone is NOT broken and that maybe they just have ear infections which is why they can't hear me, ever.

Me: I'm not getting a new phone.
James: What?
Me: I'm not getting a new phone.
James: Seriously...what?
Me: I think you have an ear infection.
James: Hello? Hello?
Me: HELLO!!!
James: Oh...there you are. Is something wrong with your phone?
Me: I'm not getting a new phone.
James: Hello....Hello?
Me: Son of a bitch.

Anyway, I got a new phone. I got this thing:



(again, not actually my phone...but trust me, my phone looks just like that)

It's AMAZING. It does all sorts of cool things that I can't figure out. It has GPS on it...it tells you to drive into bushes and stuff. It has a touch screen that you can text message on and the touch screen turns itself sideways all of the time, like magic, in the middle of typing a message...super cool. There are some other really great things that I figured out all by myself that weren't even advertised...like you can hang up on people all of the time...with your face. Also, you can call another person (usually your boss) while you're in the middle of a conversation with your friend (at 3 a.m.)...with your face. You can even mute yourself...also with your face.


Me: I got a new phone.
James: Hello?
Me: I got a new phone.
James: Jess? Hello?
Me: I GOT A NEW PHONE.
James: Hello? Hello?
Me: HELLO!!!

Me: Wait...hold on...I got it...Ok.
James: Oh...there you are. Is something wrong with your phone?
Me: I got a new phone. I muted myself with my face.
James: How do you do that?
Me: I'm not really sure...
James: Hello....Hello?
Me: Son of a bitch.


P.S. My jewelry was in the L.A. Times this week. It was exciting and monumental and I reacted by turning green and getting sick because apparently success freaks me out but then I got really busy because when your jewelry is in a major publication, turns out people want to buy it and you can't blog when you're supposed to so if you're wondering where I've been, blame the L.A. Times. If you haven't been wondering where I've been...that kind of hurts my feelings. I wonder about you all of the time. Also, I want to hang out with this guy:





(more of Craig's notes here)

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Things to do in Denver when you're dead...

...or in a nearly deserted bar on Easter Sunday, when the rest of the world is eating Peeps and chocolate bunnies, and you're stuck working in a bar with two customers who won't even let you watch the Rock of Love Finale because on the Speed channel cars are chasing each other around a track for hours and that's obviously a way better show than the one where Brett Michaels FINALLY gets his Real, One True Rock of Love...

Bogus...lame.

Another customer came in and he wasn't really into the Speed channel either, so we formed an imaginary band called "Dark Crystal Soul" instead. We're a goth speed metal band from Norway. We have long, pale blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. We have heavy German accents. Our lead singer's name is Envy, only it's spelled NV because that's cooler. My name is Wrath. It's spelled Wrath. We're very angry and absolutely no one understands our pain. Unfortunately, we broke up after about 5 minutes due to creative differences.

I guess there's only that one thing because that pretty much sums up my Easter Sunday.

I would have written sooner but it's been the most super stressful week, ever and at the end of it I was lying in the bottom of the shower, naked and curled up in the fetal position with a bottle of Jack Daniels, crying my fool head off for hours...except I really can't stand whiskey so it was actually iced tea in a Jack Daniels bottle...

...ok, a mason jar...and it's super uncomfortable and kind of cold when you're in the fetal position on the bottom of your shower so I stood up after a couple of minutes and just took a shower and also I quit crying after a minute and just started singing along to the Abba songs that I had playing in the background but you know...same thing.

Also, my cat and I are on the outs and he's currently looking for a new super best friend...that he can live with...forever and ever. He's a nice guy, but I can't handle the pot smoking and the constant partying and how he introduces himself to me every 5 minutes because his short term memory is shot and also, he's really arrogant because he's a celebricat and all he does is hang out with famous people and then come home and brag about it.

Also, if you want him, you should come get him now because the economy is in the dumpster and there's a cat shortage.

Also, did I mention he's famous? (And no, my cat isn't imaginary. Cats aren't like babies..you can't just make them up whenever you feel like it.) I've included some pictures:




Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt hanging out at a party with Paris Hilton.





Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt and Lady Gaga leaving the airport




Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt and the girls from "The Hills." (He's totally on Lauren's side, in case you were wondering.)



Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt, Madonna and Britney Spears at the Mtv Music Awards

Probably so many people will want him that I'll have to do a reality show so that I can be sure that everyone's intentions are true...so, you know, better get your name in there quick before you miss out.


P.S. Sometimes when your week sucks and you invent imaginary goth speed bands and you're trying to get it together for the sake of your blog, you might get distracted for hours by Muppets Mash-Ups.(Seriously...go to youtube and do a search for "metal muppets"...it's AMAZING. Master of Muppets? Don't Fear the Beaker? Awesome.) I don't know how any of that ties together, but here:

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