(No Drama)...Just a Hot Mess

*Note: I plan to start using "no drama" the same way that rapper, whoever it is, Lil' Delinquent or whatever his name is, started doing with "no homo." For those of you who don't know --I just found this out about two weeks ago, when you say something that might be misinterpreted as a homosexual come-on, you tack 'no homo' on the end of it, and you're okay. Ex: "Dude, Molly's out of town. Wanna come stay at my place tonight (no homo)?" I think it's pretty gay, ironically. So, anyway, I've decided to start following all of my "Oh, my gah, you won't believe..." or "you would not buh-leeve what happened" announcements with 'no drama.' Because, I'm not dramatic. I'm just a hot mess. Literally. Read on to understand why. Thank you.

Real Blog beginning...

To tie this in to the whole theme of getting married, people must be compatible. The Mister doesn't like drama. There. Theme tied.

Lucky for him, I don't like drama either (well, unless it's someone else's drama that I can watch peripherally from the sidelines (Facebook) whilst eating popcorn and making off-handed comments to other spectators), so I try to keep it out of my life, but you know what stuff happens to me!

Those of you who know me know I have a bit of a history with losing the sideview mirror off my Scion. In 2008 in a span of three months, I wiped out my right sideview mirror twice and left mirror once. Okay, it was two months. By the time the third mirror on the car was replaced, the repair guys were taking bets on when I'd be back. Charming.

Well, through no fault of my own (for the first time ever), my car is in need of repair again. A close friend's husband accidently swiped it in their driveway, which, ironically, broke the side view mirror on the left side.

See? Not dramatic, just...well, kind of messy, but funny. That's what makes the difference. Friends get mad when you laugh at their 'drama.' But, messes are funny.

The same week (specifically Tuesday, which was two days ago), I decided to make fajitas for dinner complete with salsa. Those of you who don't know me, I hate hot food. My mouth has no comprehension of flavor for things like jalapenos...just painful burning. But, it was for the salsa. I was too busy crying over the untimely death of Michael Jackson (I was watching This Is It while I cooked dinner) to realize that I hadn't properly washed my hands after dicing the jalapenos.

That night, I took my contacts out. The next morning I put my contacts in. My eyeballs metaphorically burst into Mexican flames. Holy. Hot. Tamales. Clearly, the jalapeno juice that lingered on my fingers got on my contacts when I took them out. I rinsed. Tried a new pair. Nuh-uh. My left eyeball wasn't having it. I ended up wearing glasses. As my glasses fogged up when I walked out of the apartment I realized, I'm a mess. A hot mess. Because I burned myself with food. What kind of idiot does that? At least I didn't fall down the stairs.

So, how is that not drama? Well, first, I didn't text my friends with the preface, "You would not believe what happened," and then painted a picture that wasn't meant to be funny. (Okay, not gonna lie...I did totally love The Mister's sympathy, but I'm pretty sure he was giggling on the inside when I texted him and told them that I burned my eyes through means of my own stupidity.)

I'm extremely lucky that The Mister is okay with natural disasters. Based on this blog, hopefully you all can see the irony of me saying that I'm going to have a low-maintenance, stress-free wedding. Have I mentioned I plan to cook the rehearsal dinner and the stuff for the reception (not the cake...that's far too important). Yeah, that's right. I plan to take this ball into my own hands and spin it (no drama).