peeved

Menards can suck my ass because they are fucking with my kitchen. We got a note from them saying our countertops had come in, and OH, imagine how pleased and excited we were. Well, Cory went to pick them up, and they were so scratched and jacked up that they were in no way acceptable. SO after waiting for over two weeks, we have to wait ANOTHER two weeks because of some ass clown fucking up our order. All I can say is I'm glad they have to eat the cost. But here's the kicker. Cory looked around and noticed that all of the more expensive countertop material were carefully wrapped and packaged, each standing alone with the customer's name on it. Our countertops, however, were stacked with a bunch of other ones, the only identification being a sticker on the top. And a shitty sticker, the kind that leaves fuzzy paper behind when you try to peel it off. I have not the words. Oh, except FUCK MENARDS. Don't any of you ever go there if for some reason you are doing home repairs. It sounds odd, I know, but hey, I didn't think I'd ever be going there either.

ch-ch-ch-changes

Salzburg's a bust. So is March of 2006. After much deliberation, we decided that the wedding's going to be in October, and it'll be in our home town. Mark your calendars and thank me for this excuse to go shopping.

And tonight's the first gown-shopping experience, so I'll report on that some more later. Interesting fact: You are not allowed to take photos in any of the bridal salons that I have called (and that's eight places). Because they are assholes. I'm bringing my camera and they can kiss my ass.