I was so delighted to finally be able to throw the off-beat, backyard wedding of my dreams. I pictured a handful of close friends and family, decked out in the season’s most fashionable denim, sipping on some frozen margaritas and chomping on some freshly grilled burgers and fries, as I mosey on up a make-shift aisle in my Grandmother’s garden dawning some cute, baby-doll looking off-white dress and some cute, trendy flats, on a bright sunny day in 2013.

I’m a simple girl, as you know, so I was thrilled to skip all that fancy foolery that usually accompanies a wedding, like formal invitations and black tie attire. It’s not like my goal in this whole thing is to have a wedding–it’s to have a marriage! Hopefully, a happy one according to my standards and not the standards of current society. Then isn’t it only right that we have a ‘wedding’ that defies the expectations of current society too?

Not according to my family. They are huge funs of traditional weddings! The more fuss, stress, tulle and torture, the better.

I made a lovely list of 120 guests that would complete my ideal backyard wedding fantasy. They countered with a list of 400. Many of my conversations regarding the list went like this:

Me: I just want close family and friends.
Family: What about your fourth cousin that you’ve never met who lives in Canada? We could never not invite them! They’d feel so offended! God, we’d just die of shame to not invite them! And you know we’d never hear the end of it from the other cousins in California who we never ever see!
Me: But I’ve never met them. Why would they care?
Family: Believe me, they’ll care!
Me: But again….I’ve never met them…so why should I care that they care.
Family: Oh my God, what a failure we’ve been at raising you! Don’t you know anything about weddings!

All this chorused by my father’s often heard chimes of “If you don’t like it, elope!”

You’d think that in a global recession, people would forgive such shallow expectations of being invited to weddings of distant relatives, but recession be damned. We are Lebanese! We never forgive anyone anything. Look at how far we’ve gotten with Israel, Palestine and the rest of those camel jockies. Clearly forgiveness is not out strong suit!

So I’m left now with two options: Have a big, fat Lebanese-Circus wedding or run off to Vegas (my grandfather has been kind enough to offer to pay the plane fare), the tacky, grown-up version of Disney World, with my frozen margarita between my legs.

Why can’t I just have my backyard bbq and not tell anyone? Isn’t this supposed to be my wedding?

DIG MY BLOG? BUY MY FUNNY-AS-F*** BOOKS: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE

I don’t know about you, but I am not a fan of this new, ordinary, anorexic-looking Renn. As a model who rose to notoriety by penning a book about her struggles with eating disorders, and damning the conventionally accepted view of beauty in the modeling industry, I’m confused by her shockingly extreme weight loss.

According to Wikipedia, Renn is now a healthy size 8. Take another look at the link above. Does that look like a size 8 to you? I’m a size 6 and Crystal Renn, in this photo, seems half or even a quater, of my size.

Also, her face looks emaciated. If I saw this photo, I would’ve never guessed it was Crystal Renn.

Why?

Because THIS is what Crystal Renn, iconic plus-sized model and challenger of conventional beauty expectations looks like!

Not some anorexic twit off the street, flouncing about in a string bikini, looking like she’s jonesing for a sandwich.

DIG MY BLOG? READ MY FUNNY, CHICK-LIT, AMAZON BEST SELLING SERIES: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK, & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

There! Now don’t you feel better about your car that’s falling to sh*t more and more as the days go by, or the time you went on a full-out diet and gained five pounds that have since turned into ten, or the fact that no matter how many times you tell people that you’re NOT a stripper, they still insist on pushing money in your face?

Yeah, me too.

IF YOU DIG MY BLOG, CHECK OUT MY AMAZI-BALLS–AMAZON BEST SELLING SERIES: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

Well I am finally realizing why nobody believes me.

Exhibit A: Hollwood.

If you’re one to troll the online gossip mags (like myself), you’ll notice that pregnancy is not determined by missed periods, lack of birth control or ovulation cycles, as I had alleged in my previous post. Pregnancy, in Hollywood, is determined by loose blouses and upcoming movies that need promoting. This is how a baby is made. Why have I been so blind? Of course you can ignore conventional birth control methods. Unless you’re about to launch a new perfume line or shell a new clothing line, why on Earth would your body ever feel ready to carry a child. You’re body is smarter than you! It’s not gonna create a perfect PR storm when there’s no monetary gain in sight!

Look at Jen Aniston. I’ve been hearing she’s pregnant for twelve months, and since there’s nothing for her to promote right now, the baby is refusing to manifest! Her body is simply smarter than that! It’s gonna wait til summer when her new stationary line is announced to even hint at a popped-out belly button.

Exhibit B: Look at me.

I have convinced myself that I am pregnant. Yes, I’m on the pill. Yes, my cycles are totally normal. No, I have not missed one single dot. However, didn’t I just release four novels on Amazon Kindle? Aren’t they Best Sellers? Don’t I look a little paunchy from this angle? Or this angle? or THIS ANGLE?

Clearly, I’m knocked-up!

Babies aside, I have every reason in the book to be preggo! My body must realize that it’s time for it to shine.

In preparation for my upcoming bundle of poop/pee/puke, I have been eating like a wilderbeest, hoping to turn my unborn fetus into an oreo cookie with eyes. (As God and Hollywood intended).

Does this make sense to anyone other than me, because my boyfriend, (sigh), he doesn’t get it.

DIG MY BLOG? READ MY BOOKS: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK, & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

I didn’t realize this was such an accomplishment until I encountered bed wetters in college, but that’s a whole other post.

Anyhow, the point I’m getting at is this: I was a superior child. I never wet the bed. Once I knew where the toilet was, I made the conscious choice to pee in it. Except for one tragic night when I was ten.

Now if you wet the bed anytime before third grade, I consider it normal. If you wet the bed after third grade, you clearly have a medical condition. Well, one night, me–the superior child–went to bed and had a very vivid dream about swimming in the ocean. I could feel the salt on my skin and the sun on my neck. It was so real. Suddenly, the urge struck me to pee–and I did–right in the ocean of my sixth grade bed.

When I awoke a few moments later, I was horrified–or to use a more appropriate adjective for the times–mortified! I was a ten year old, who had wet my bed, in the full view of the Jonathan Taylor Thomas posters on the back of my bedroom door. Me! The only non-bed wetter amongst my siblings. Now, a normal child wouldn’t give this too much thought. They’d rationalize that it was an extremely vivid dream, change the sheets and resume their sleep. Not me–the child version of Woody Allen. I sat up for hours trying to figure out “what this means”. Do I have cancer of the bladder? Has a toxic cyst ruptured and I only THINK it’s pee? Does this mean I’m regressing into babyhood? Oh dear God, what does it mean?

I walked around for weeks, worrying about “what if it happens again?” Imagine the implications: no more sleepovers. I’d have to wear adult diapers to high school. Nobody would want to be my friend! I’d be that bed wetting freak for the rest of my life, until whatever terminal, mysterious disease finally up and killed me!!!!

This couldn’t be my life, so I took the most logical approach. I stopped drinking water, juice, soda, or anything. If there was no fluid in me, then there’d be no fluid coming out of me.

Obviously, you can see where this is going…

Which leads me to what I’m really thinking about: Ballerinas. They live on less than five hundred calories a day sometimes and condition their bodies to do some incredibly non-human things. How do they live that way? If a couple days with no fluids can make me faint, feel weak, sick and all over yucky, how do they go with so little and at the same time, put their bodies through so much?

They must be, in fact, non-human! Let me present, exhibit A: A video of a ballerina in Russia. Tell me she doesn’t remind you of every creepy un-dead character from a horror movie.

IF YOU DIG MA’ BLOG, CHECK OUT MY AMAZON BEST SELLING KINDLE SERIES: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

“Seal first began dating German model Heidi Klum in February 2004,[32] shortly after she announced her pregnancy and end of relationship with then director of the Italian Renault Formula One team, Flavio Briatore. Seal proposed to Klum on 23 December 2004 in a quinzee[33] he had built on a glacier in Whistler, British Columbia.[34] On 10 May 2005, the couple married on a beach in Mexico near Seal’s home on Costa Careyes.[35] Every year during their marriage Seal and Klum renewed their vows on their anniversary with their close friends and family. About these renewals Seal said in 2010,[36] “Each year, Heidi and I get remarried. It’s a great party, but for about an hour, we go off on our own down to a private beach. We sit there with the kids and read vows to each other as the sun sets. It’s a very special moment to us.” In November 2009, Klum officially adopted Seal’s surname and became legally known as Heidi Samuel.[37]
Klum gave birth to Briatore’s daughter, Helene “Leni” Boshoven Klum on 5 May 2004 in New York City[38] with Seal at her side. According to Klum, Briatore is not involved in Leni’s life, and Klum has stated emphatically that “Seal is Leni’s father”. Seal is her only father figure.”

When I heard the news, the first thought that came to mind was: If Heidi and Seal can’t make it, what hope do the rest of us have? But then a couple days passed and I started to think about the married people I know. Can I honestly say any of them seem that happy to be married? Sure, some of them are comforted by the thought that they aren’t living alone or paying bills on their own. Some are thankful (like me) to not have to date anymore (I seriously hate to date!). Some people want to make babies and think they’ve found an adequate genetic match. Some people simply wanted to have a wedding and married the first guy who asked, and now have turned bitter and resentful towards marriage, love, husbands and their friends who chose alternative paths.

But think about it. Can you outright name ONE happily married person?

Me neither. Some people are not divorced but that doesn’t mean they are happily married. Many people have been married so long that they can’t imagine themselves any other way, so they’d rather tolerate a comfortable arrangement than actually be in love with their spouse.

Do you see what you’ve done to me Heidi and Seal! I’m a romance novelist who has turned cynical because of you!

(Ok, so I was plenty cynical before you, but still. You only made it worse!)

Now excuse me while I search Lifetime for more Project Runway re-runs to better depict your mood swings leading up to the devastating news, Heidi Klum.

IF YOU DIG MY BLOG, CHECK OUT MY AMAZON BEST SELLING NOVELS: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

Oh God, the peach salsa! To this day I cannot consume salsa without feeling sadness for my long lost peach salsa. It was literally the most fresh, delicious, flavor packed, wholesome taste in the world. That peach salsa tasted like freedom and summer love and kisses in the rain. It was full of poetry and decadence. You could eat it with a spoon alone!

**Sigh**

Tonight, as I pour myself a bowl of store bought salsa, I am once again, overcome with missing my Greenwich peach salsa.

Does anyone have a recipe for peach salsa that they’d be willing to recommend? I’m so desperate Im actually willing to try my hand at cooking.

IF YOU DIG MY BLOG, CHECK OUT MY AMAZON BEST SELLING SERIES: THE NEW YORK CATH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK, & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

That being said, there is one thing Texas and I are in total agreement about: The Death Penalty.

I think the death penalty is an under-used method of criminal punishment. You would think on a planet as over-populated with scum bags as planet Earth, we’d be more eager to kill our depraved criminals, but for some reason, we prefer to shell out millions of tax dollars to house, feed and care for these people who are not worth the paper their jail sentences are printed on.

Take Joran Van der Sloot. Not one person could convince me that this piece of human waste deserves to see another sunny day. He doesn’t deserve to wake up in his warm, tax-payer provided bed, spend an hour outside, lifting weights and carousing with his fellow criminals. We should come together as a global community and petition to kill him! It is the only true form of justice in this world for what he did!

First he killed Natalee Holloway when he was a teenager and then, because he wasn’t convicted, the girl in Peru a few months ago. And guess what? In fourteen years he’ll be free (and still young enough) to kill again, except by then he’ll have learned even more useful tips for killing from his valuable time in Peruvian jail. And gee…won’t your kids be getting ready to go to college around then? Maybe they’ll take a graduation trip to a tropical country with their friends and end up cut into a million pieces because they had the extreme misfortune to sit on a bar stool next to Jorn Van Der Sloot or some equally despicable human scum.

Now I’m not being biased. Joran isn’t the only human scum that should be exterminated. I firmly believe that all pedophiles should be killed an hour after being convicted. No appeals. No probation. No rehabilitation. Swift, speedy death is what pedophiles deserve and I cannot imagine ANYONE objecting to this. If a pedophile is convicted by a jury of his or her peers, then the pedophile should die. It’s not cruelty. It is just punishment. Spend a Sunday afternoon watching Law & Order: SVU and tell me you feel differently!

IF YOU DIG MY BLOG, CHECK OUT MY BOOKS: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE

You may recall I mentioned last year that I wanted to try writing something depressingly serious. Well, I’ve tried my hand somewhat and it’s detrimental to my health. You could say I’m a method writer. Like method actors, I really try to become my characters in every way possible in order to make their experience more relatable to readers. Well writing depressing stuff really bums me out and frankly, life is depressing enough.

Writing is supposed to cheer me up, not bring me down, darn it!

My other thought was to elaborate on my Third World Justice blog. I think the characters are interesting and have a wide range of possible adventures. Still, I’m hesitant to write an action based series because I’m a more sedentary individual. What do I know about hand grenades and guns?

I’ve spent the first days of the year, re-reading blog entries from my myspace days, looking for insight into my twenty-two year old self. Besides from quite a few “Oh my God, I can’t believe a zillion people have read about me doing this or that”, they’ve given me this idea.

Somewhere around 2006, I stumbled upon this theory that I called: Girl-In-Progress. That’s how I characterized myself. I had an idea of what I wanted, but I didn’t know exactly how to get there. I tried things, testing to see how I’d like the outcome. It was a very experimental phase, where I said YES to everything and hardly turned anything down. Obviously, at the end, I was exhausted. It’s hard saying YES all the time, but it gave me a lot of material and insight into how I wanted my life to be and not to be.

I’m toying with the idea of doing a Girl-In-Progress series. Four novels about twenty-something’s at this special point of their life. I think it could be very entertaining, and would also be fun for me to write.

But you tell me. What do you want to read about in 2012?

IF YOU DIG MY BLOG, CHECK OUT MY AMAZON BEST SELLING NOVELS: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE.

So this year I resolve to not makes any lofty resolutions.

2011 has been an exceptionally hard year. I think I speak for many people when I say that. It’s also been a very productive, good year in some ways. Still, things can always change for better or worse, so what I think is more important right now than making resolutions, is appreciating the present. All the wonderful, healthy people in our lives. All the opportunities that came our way. All the good things, because life is short and tomorrow is never promised.

This is the closest I’m going to come to a resolution. I hope that in 2012 I’m not too busy that I forget to enjoy all the good things that happen every day, with the people who really matter most to me. I hope to share many more bottles of wine with Iliya Hamilton. I hope to go out for countless dinners and have countless arguments with Matthew Garel, my favorite person with whom to eat and fight. I hope Christian Sale will come into town and take me for Guava Ice-Cream. I can’t wait to see Vanessa Khouri-Salazar when she comes back from Spain (and of course, her husband Javi). I’m so glad Tejal and Vik Patel are here with their baby girl. I’m looking forward to more cups of tea with Vanessa Josephs. Joseph & Bobby Argabrite, I’m counting the days until I’m toasting champagne flutes with you! Daniella Vollinger I miss you every day of life and can’t wait to see you next year! Stefana and Kriston, I hope we are all in the same country at the same time, at some point next year.

For everyone else who’s super important to me, I’m not leaving you all out. I look forward to spending time with you guys too. But if we don’t spend time, I’m not going to stress about it. I have finally realized that I cannot control the universe, despite my hyper-vigilance on airplanes. Que sera, sera, right?

I guess that could be considered my second non-resolution. Whatever will be, will be.

DIG MY BLOG? CHECK OUT MY AMAZON BEST SELLING KINDLE NOVELS: THE NEW YORK CATCH, THE NEW YORK SOCIALITE, THE NEW NEW YORK & THE RED ROCK CAFE.