ICEBERG, RIGHT AHEAD!

There are now less than two months til the wedding day.  Don't be fooled by how relaxing the past couple of weeks have been.  Purely procrastination.  This is just the calm before the storm, before the really big storm, before some unforeseen natural disaster, before a light rain, before a flood, before the locusts.  There's a rainbow in there somewhere, but no one can see it.

But for now, not a whole lot going on, so I decided to investigate what other fancy events history tossed to us on April 14.  Boy, what a day.  In 1927 the first Volvo hit the road.  In 1968 Anthony Michael Hall was born.  It only gets uglier from there.

1865 - BANG.  Lincoln capped while out on the town.  This was a real bummer.  The good news for those planning special events on 4/14 is that Lincoln did not actually kick it until the 15th.  Still, though, right?

The big anniversary this April 14th isn't the assassination of the Great Emancipator.  It's the 100 year mark of when the Titanic smacked into the iceberg.  In a way, our love is a lot like an iceberg.  There's a bit on the top that everyone sees, but there's a whole lot more below the surface that is capable of destroying dreams.  Here again, the good news is that the ship didn't actually sink until the next day.  While these terrible things seem to happen on the 14th, the real bad news never happens until the 15th.  That's why we're waiting until the 16th to board the plane for our Sioux City Honeymoon (good sarsaparilla).  

We've timed our wedding to match up with the rerelease of the movie.  To keep with the theme, the wedding will also be in 3D.  Don't worry about having to wear those pesky little glasses, though.  Our technology is far too advanced for such props.  Fun fact: James Cameron's yachts are named Titanic and T2.  Now if only I could find an avatar to stand in for me at the altar.

Heart Shaped Cheese

I've been in hiding because, let's face it, things have been going pretty well.  It COULD be perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.  It COULD be perhaps because the future little Missus has been out of town for a month.

Seeing how today is the most commercially romantic day of the year, I figured I could no longer sit in silence.  I've somehow managed to draw both the shortest and longest straw at once, because while Valentine's Day means a great deal to my lady, she still says convention is bologna.  So most V-Days we sit on the couch watching movies like The Strangers, eating cheese and drinking wine.  Because nothing says romance like terrified, drunken constipation.  A lot of chaps choose to make their big sweeping romantic gestures -- proposals and whatnot -- today.  Today is pretty magical.  How else can we account for eating those little candy hearts?  The poor man's fortune cookies.

Let's face it though, there's enough romance in this relationship to fill a small kiddie pool with enough stagnant water to create a breeding ground for some pretty vicious mosquitos.  West Nile Love.  And while most people equate their initial feelings of love to butterflies in their stomach, I hate butterflies.  Don't be fooled by their wings, people.  Their bodies are disgusting.

And in short, I was afraid.

So what fluttering feelings did I feel in my stomach when I first met the bride?  Here's the true story of how we met:  I ran into her at a bar one night, and apparently I had just gotten a haircut, as she said to me, "Hey, you got a haircut."  Or something.  To which I replied, "I don't even talk to you."  The end.