CupCate.com

A VOXy Day in London Town

Okay, you've been hearing online murmurs and whispers about a London VOX meet up..

And folks, please try to control yourself. Please try to breathe normally. Please, don't cry tears of ecstasy into your laptop....

But....

Here it is:

The London Vox Meet Up:

When: Wednesday, 13 December @ 7:00pm

Where: The Ochre, 2-3 Creed Lane, London, EC4V 5BR

Nearest Tube: St.Paul's

 

So, I know I've been in touch with a lot of Voxers through comments and emails but everyone and anyone who'd like to come, please leave a comment or message me to confirm!

This is our chance to embrace, and bond....and judge each other in person rather than online!

Plus, I'll be there! Come see my fake engagement ring!!!

Check out London.vox.com for updates and more details!

** Latest news is that I'm a moron..The 13 is not TUESDAY it's a WEDNESDAY...I apologize for my inabilities to read calendars correctly.

QotD: Google Me

Have you ever Googled your own name? How did you feel about the results?
Submitted by elen.

This is, -tada!- my second QotD. My first time went so-so. I was nervous, a little shaky. I wasn't quite sure what to think, or feel. Did I do it for the right reasons? Was I really ready?....I mean, there were no candles, no rose petals. And I certainly didn't' hear any Luther Vandross playing...

Well, QotD. I'm here again. You've called and called, and yet I never picked up the phone. I've been scared, QotD.

But now I'm feeling a little more experienced. I know how it will feel. I have a better idea of how you like it. So. Here. Just don't' expect me to call you tomorrow. It may take a while, until I feel ready again. I'm okay with this being casual if you are. Just, don't pressure me. Let's just keep it real.

So.

Yes. I have Googled myself. (I'm a self indulgent blogger, what did you expect?) I've even come to terms with the fact that 'Google' & 'Googled' have become verbs.

My real name comes up with nothing.

"CupCate" is a all Vox, comments I've left, people's neighborhoods I'm in, plus the occasion link from "dirty whore houswife fuck!" websites, etc, etc.

Every once and a while I'll find a link to my name, or a nice comment about moi in another Voxer's post.

And then, somewhere in Vox's dusty corner, where some little chicky thought she could hide...I found my first Hate Post.

An entire post (ok, it was like a paragraph) about your's truly, and how uninteresting I am. I laughed.

I laughed harder when my "all time favorite blogger" commented with some snarky remark agreeing with her.

Oh man. It's like, hello. The Internet is not some vast, unlink-able, bleak universe were you can say whatever you want and no one will find it.

 (ex: how Heather B. Armstrong coined the term Dooce. )

But ya know. It gave me a laugh, if nothing else.

And if I manage to piss people off as well as make people laugh, then I must be doing something right.

So thank you, angry blogger with nothing better to talk about than an old post I wrote, thank you for popping my Hate Post cherry.

 

I'm a knocked-up, refugee lookin' fer a good man.

I really had no intention of turning this blog into "CupCate talks Weddings.vox.com" but, well, here it is.

I'm engaged, I'm getting married, there's no skirtin' round it in this here blog...

I never thought that my least favorite part of this whole super special time in my life would be telling other people our big news.

"But why? WHY?" you ask. Don't I want to just shout it from the rooftops?

Don't I want to reach out to all my fellow estrogen producers and plan out themes, and color schemes, and ice sculptures and fondue?

Don't I want to document my precious  bridal journey in a YouTube video diary, where I whine about how the world is out to spoil my perfect, dream wedding?

"Diary, I just don't know if I want to do this anymore..." cries softly, wipes nose with shredded tissue, looks wearily into the camera...

"This is the most important day of my life. This is my special fairy princess day. MINE! Why can't everyone just do what I ask them? I don't understand why everyone is freakin' telling me I can't wear glass slippers?! I'm barely even eating, so no, MOM, they will not break. This is my wedding day. Just make it freakin' happen, okay??!"

Don't I want all of this, and more?

No, no..NO. I cannot even begin express the depths of sincerity in which I mean NO!

I would implode. I would explode. I would kill, hundreds, if not thousands of people who are 'just trying to help'.

My lack of enthusiasm for planning or even wanting a "normal" wedding does not stem from a fear of not wanting to get married.

This is not a Carrie Bradshaw "I break out into hives when I try on dresses and wear my ring around my neck because I really just don't want to get married" complex.

(Although I did get diarrhea after looking at British Bride)

We simply do not want or need a traditional wedding. I don't' want the white dress. I don't want the presents. The veil, the music, or the rock*.

That's just not me. That's not Iain. It's not us.

The hilarious thing, is that people automatically do the, "Oh honey, do whatever you want...THIS IS YOUR DAY."

THIS IS YOUR DAY.

Here is the one bit of wisdom I have learned during my short engagement:

"THIS IS YOUR DAY" is a pile of sparkly, ivory bullshit.

You can get married anyway you like, as long as it's the way everyone else likes it.

If everyone really thought it was, indeed, your special day to do whatever you wanted... they would respect your decisions.

Even if your choice was to run away and get married privately in the Himalayas with a yak as your witness.

I understand that maybe your disapproving attitude is caused by disappointment....

Disappointment that you will not be there to witness the joining of two souls.

( Also known as signing a piece of paper.)

Disappointment is allowed. It is okay for you to be slightly saddened that you will not be present on our "big day".

It's even ok to be jealous of the yack.

However.

I just want some fucking R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Respect our decision to not want to get married in a church, or even with you there.

Respect that we're putting our financial future first, and are not choosing to take out a fucking loan or second mortgage on our house (Ok, we don't even have a house, but if we did...) for ONE DAY.

The initial reaction upon us announcing our engagement is how you would typically imagine.

The girls squeal, "Oh my gawwwd!", grab my finger to look at my ring, then hold me to their bosom in a celebratory embrace.

And while I'm not dead inside and I do appreciate them being happy for me...

It just makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little. 

Take this conversation:

Me: "Iain and I are getting married." prepares for 'bosom embrace'.

Super Excited Squealer: "OH MY GOD! I am soooo happppy for yoooooou!" claps hands, twirls in merry circles

Me:"Thank you, thanks. Me too." fake smiles, tries to control bile

SES:"WE MUST have a HINDU!" does jazz hands, grabs my hands and tries to twirl with me

Me: "What? Have a what?" resists twirls.

SES: "A HINDU!" more jazz hands

Me: "...A hindu?" gives this expression

SES "Yeah! You know! A HEN DO! A big girly night out!" pats top of my head, pinches cheeks.

Me: "OHHH....A hen do....Okay....Yeah, no. No, I don't want that." sits on hands to prevent self from punching SES in the face

SES: "What? No! You MUST have a hen do!!!!" gives pouty, patronizing face.

Me: "I don't want a hen do."

SES: "But you have to! It's your WEDDING!!!!" wipes away imaginary tear, puts hands on hips

Me: "Yeah, no, I really don't want a fucking hen do." stares into SES' beady little pupils to inflict fear

SES: "....OH. Well...-crickets-.....Erm....I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!" we then commence with the celebratory bosom embrace.

The real trouble, however, ensues when we actually explain the details of our UNRULY and COMPLETELY UNHEARD OF choices for our OUTRAGEOUS wedding.

Judgmental Patronizing Bitch/Bastard: "So when is the big day?"

Me: "January."

JPB: "Of 2008?"

Me "No, January 2007. In two months."

JPB: "Oh my, that certainly is quick." checks my stomach for a hints of an expanding uterus

Me: "Well, I'm on a fiancee visa, so we have 9 months to get married, but we wanted to do it in January. There's really no point in waiting..."

JPB: "Oh, you're on a fiancee visa? Goodness, Iain's not just marrying you to keep you in the country, is he??"

JPB then chuckles to make it appear as if this statement is an innocent joke and is not, infact, completely fucking rude

Me: "....Actually no."

JPB: "..Sure, right..You must be so busy planning everything."

Me: "No, not really. It's just very simple, very small."

JPB: "Oh, where is the ceremony taking place?"

Me: "In a registry office."

JPB: "....Oh. Well do you have a dress?"

Me: "No. Not yet."

JPB: "...Oh, my. Well do you know what you're looking for?"

Me: "Yeah, I'm thinking black and white...Maybe polka dots, maybe red."

JPB: "..Oh, so not a traditional bridal gown. Interesting....Well are your mother and father coming?"

Me: "No. But we're having a reception in March in California."

JPB: "Oh lovely, what will you be serving? What's your theme?"

Me: "We'll be serving Round Table Pizza, with an array of toppings, and a variety of crust thickness. To drink we'll be serving plenty of cheap cocktails complete with crazy straws and miniature umbrellas and plethora of beer. The theme for the night will be 'Wicked Keg Party'...."

JPB: "....Oh, my. Your parents must be so disappointed."

Iain's been cornered and asked on numerous occasions  if he's marrying me just to keep me in the country.

I've been heavily questioned as to why we want a civil ceremony, and not a church wedding. Why is my family not coming? And why, for pete's sake, don't I want a white wedding dress?

The thing is, is that if I were British, if we were having a year long engagement, spending shit loads of money having a wedding ceremony with all of our families present, a traditional reception, and if I had already made 2/3rds of our wedding plans in a secret wedding diary I've had since I was a wee li'l lass than NO ONE WOULD SAY SHIT.

But no.

I'm an immigrant, so therefore we must be getting married to Iain so I can get a visa and ship all of my family and children over from the poverty stricken war zone that is NORTHERN CALIFORNIA.

And YEAH. Getting a fiance visa was obviously just the the easy way out.

Especially the part where I'd be unemployed for 9-10 months. A dual income? Pshaw, who needs that??

And since we're getting married so soon, I MUST BE PREGNANT, or as one man asked me, "Are you sure you're not just getting talked into something? Are you sure this is what you really want? Really?"

And I really must be a disrespectful, selfish little brat to not have my family present on the "MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF MY FUCKING LIFE".

To be honest, it has not been an easy ride with my family.

Since last October, I have moved into their house, then 9 months later moved out of their house to go and live in another country that is 5,000 miles away..And then announced that I'm getting married, making it crystal clear to them that I am NEVER COMING BACK HOME TO STAY.

However, it's all working out.

 The people in my and Iain's wonderful family who truly matter, who love us and can see how much we love each other, understand. They know. They know us, and while they might not understand all of our decisions, they respect them, because they love us. We are their children, their grandchildren, niece and nephew.

We deserve happiness as much as the next person, even if our version of happiness differs from what their definition of happiness is.

I've gotten lots of advice on this..."Do what you want", "Don't care what other people think", and "Fuck 'em, you don't need people who aren't going to be happy for you"...

And all of those lovely pieces of advice are absolutely correct.

However, the more and more things change...The more I change. The bigger and more enriched my life becomes, I see people dropping off and away.

Friends and family that claimed they loved me, and that they would always be there....

My father...

I'm seeing people for who they truly are...and I can't help but be disappointed.

I get upset over people being so rude towards our marriage and wedding because these were people I cared about and have always been there for.

It's hard to let go of these people.

It's hard to let go and realize that they are not who I thought they would be in my life. That's what hurts, and I guess that's why I have such a strong reaction to other people's reactions and rude comments.

I should not take them personally.

And yet, here I am, writing about them on "CupCate Talks Family and Weddings.vox.com"...

But, this is all part of the change. Those who are meant to stay with me, will stay.

 They will latch on through the winters, and the change...The others will turn and drop off when it gets even the slightest bit cold...

And in their place, new, green relationships will grow...

At my reception I know I will look up, and around, and see those who truly care beside us...

Drinking out of our keg, filling up on pizza, and mixing me a Cosmopolitan.

And if that's not a Dream Fairy Tale Princess Wedding...then I don't know what the fuck is.

 

 

 

 

*'The Rock'- if you meet me in person, or see me on the streets with a hefty diamond ring on my finger...I haven't sold out yo! It's a lovely $20 ring we got at Target simply to wear at the interview at the Consulate, so we looked like a serious, engaged couple. It gained some serious sentimental value after we did, in fact, get our visa. So, I wear it now. Girls Ooooo and AAaaaa over it, and I just smile. They don't have enough balls to ask if it's real, and my balls are large enough not to set their minds at ease.

...And I have a Compact Brain.

Me: "How the hell am I supposed to know what size the fleas are?"

Iain: "...What size the fleas are?"                                     

Me: "Yeah...Small, compact, or large? I mean, they looked pretty small to me..."                       

Iain: "...It's the size of the COMB not the size of the FLEAS!"

Me: ".....Seriously?"

Iain: "Yes."

Me: "...Oh, fuck."

 

Precious Moments with The Stupid Parade

 I like to catalog the interesting images and super special overheard conversations in a little file in my brain I like to call:

The Stupid Parade.

 

During my current stay in sunny California, the past three weeks have provided many of these precious moments.

 Those crazy Californians.

 

 Location: Coffee Infested Pit of Hellish Flames (aka Starbucks I used to work at).

 Incident: Special conversation with random, bearded, NASCAR shirt donning Man

  "You gotta be careful with them!"

 I look down at my pink Crocs, "..Be careful with my shoes?"

 "Yeah, you best be careful going down them escalators!"

 "....Okay....."

 "You could lose yer foot! Didn't y'all hear about that guy who lost his friggan foot cuz it got caught in an escalator? It was cuz he been wearing those shoes!?!!"

 "....No, no I didn't hear about that."

 "You gotta be careful with those! BE CAREFUL on escalators with them shoes!!!!!"

 "Okay. Great. Thanks so much."

 "BE CAREFUL!"

 

· Location: Literati Cafe, L fucking A

  Incident: Overheard conversation between Fat Fearing Freak of a Female and Cafe Manager.

 

"Hi, um, yeah. Yes. What do you have that's fat-free?"

 "I have fat-free muffins."

 "Okay. Great. Um. What kind are the fat-free muffins?"

 "I have blueberry and apricot."

 "And they're fat-free?"

 "Yes ma'am."

 "You're sure?"

 "Yes."

 "Okay. So you have blueberry and apricot?"

 "Yes."

 "Now, you're sure they're fat-free?"

 ".....Yes."

 "You're sure they're fat-free? Because if they're not then I don't want them."

 "They're fat-free. I'm sure."

 "But you're sure."

 "Ma'am....Yes. The muffins are fat-free."

 "Fat-free?"

 "....YES."

 "You're sure they're fat-free"

 ".........."

 She stares at him accusingly, then stares at the muffins, and then stares back at him, back to the muffins, him, muffins, him, muffins, and back to him. She sniffs the air for calories and fat content....

 "Great. I'll take 2."

 

 Location: Between 11th and 7th headed towards the Pacific Coast Highway .

 As we drove along towards Highway 1, we observed a woman enjoying the sunny LA weather during her afternoon jog...With plastic surgery bandages still wrapped around her face. Who says you can't exercise right after a face lift?

 

Location: My personal correspondence

Incident: Precious moments between me and my totally awesome friends back home.

(Please try not to tear up. And, no, I did not steal these  from 'Chicken Soup for the BFF's Soul')

 

Phone conversation with a friend that says she, “like totally can't wait to see" and wants me to "call me right when you get off the plane!!!":

 

"Hey, it's Cate!"

 "Oh hey. What's up?"

 "Not much, just wanted to see what you're up to, ya know, because I haven't seen you in 6 months!"

 "Yeah, for sure! Um, well tonight I'm hanging out with my roommate..."

 "....Oh, okay. What are you up to this weekend?"

 "....Not much. I'll call you!"

 ".....Erm....Okay."

 

It's cool. She doesn't get to see her roommate that often anyway. I totally understand.

 

Phone conversation with another friend that is like totally stoked and sooooo, like, freakin' anxious to hang out:

 

"Hey is Cate there?"

 "Yeah it's me! How are you?"

 "Good."

 "...Okay. So what are you up to tonight? I haven't been feeling well since I got off the plane, but I'm all drugged up and would love to see you!"

 "I know I miss you so much! Well, tonight I'm hanging out with Sarah because I won't see her all weekend, so that won't work. And tomorrow night is Sarah's birthday party, so that won't work either. Can I just call you when I'm free?"

 "......Yeah. Swell."

 

I mean, sure Sarah is my friend, too, and we keep in touch, and we ALL USED TO WORK TOGETHER. But I totally understand why you guys need to spend private time together. Awesome.

 

Email from same friend, 10 days later:

 

"Hey,

 You said you were sick, and so I didn't want to call and disturb you, plus I thought you were out of town or something? You never let me know when you were feeling better. Let's do lunch tomorrow!

xo"

 

Aren’t they the best?

 

They're so totally awesome, that I know they'll totally understand that I was too busy at a pumpkin patch yesterday to meet them for lunch. Or that I'm too busy staring at the visa they never asked about to call them. Or that I won't be able to see them at all while I'm here, because I'm too busy buying underwear at Target.

 

 And ya know, they're sooooo awesome, that I’m sure they’ll understand that I’m keeping the gifts I brought back for them from London . Thanks pals!

 

 Maybe I'll catch up with you next time I'm IN THE FUCKING COUNTRY.

 

But anyhoo. I'd just like to give a shout out to all the good citizens of California , my BFF's, (and my newly appointed majorette John Kerry) for providing these special moments, and making up my Stupid Parade.

 

Did I mention the Stupid Parade is actually the line leading up to my executioner's block?

 

Muahahahhaah.