Engaged Middle Sister, WHAT?!??

Once upon a time I was getting my "mindhole blown."  No, this is not the latest dance craze, stripper move, or newfound sushi.   It's called Inception, and I was told it was amaze-balls.  So I'm concentrating, I'm getting it...then my phone blows up.  Last night...

Middle Sister is engaged.  To Dane.  While at some pier in Southern California (dude, why so far???).  Because he had some extra student loan money burning a hole in his pocket and he felt the need for some diamonds in size 6 (am I right, Middle Sister?  Or do you have fatty knuckles like Mom and wear a size 7?).

Needless to say, Inception took a pause.

So then I took the Personal Communications 215 approach..."So it'll be a Santa Barbara wedding, right??"  (I so don't want to travel.)

That's a 'no.'  Damn.

But at least I get what I want out of it.  An open bar.  Because nothing says "wedding" like a huge stash of all my favorite liquids.  And plenty of Jersey Shore fist-pumping.  And not being in the wedding party.  It's not that I don't want to be in the wedding party.  It's more like there'll be plenty of ladies up there, and I'd rather sit during the ceremony, plus I don't like crowds...and who know what the dress will look like (haha, just kidding!).  And someone has to sit next to Mr. Wookie.  And having someone drive us home.

And the kicker: Baby Sister will be legal.  #Score.

Middle Sister in all her glory.  Now tell her how jenky her hair looks in the comments.  Because she keeps blaming it on the wind, but we all know her bathing habits resemble Billy Bob Thornton 10 years back.  Even before Angie Jolie.  And her billion kids.

Oh, and tell Middle Sister how much you love cupcake towers, birdcage veils, poofy sleeves, and only having 1 attendant.  Oh, and the budget is $1,000.00.  She'll love you.  And by "love you" I mean she'll spite your soul and send 100 redheads to torture your soul.  She means business.  After all, who's better to torture your day than a redhead (blogger) or two.