I got married in Vegas….Once

Just spent a weekend in Las Vegas, NV doing some shows, and everywhere we went, we were bombarded with weddings!  Just that perfect storm of details kept giving me the flashbacks to 10 years earlier when I was involved in my own ceremony at The Little White Chapel of the Flowers in Vegas, (pictured left).

After graduating from college, I went straight away and worked for Toyota.  He was a manager of a dealership and I hated him from the start.  He was cocky and condescending and I dreaded calling on his account.  He was much older as well…15 years with 4 children.

One day, finishing my day at his dealership, I was invited along to happy hour…and not being one to miss out on a party, I joined.  After a few too many gallons of adult beverages, I decided to tell him what I thought of him.  Well, he asked me why I wasn’t so friendly and that was my window to share my opinion of him.  That conversation was the wrecking ball that busted down the barriers to the relationship we were soon to be consumed with.

He was totally wrong for me in every way.  He wasn’t even officially divorced yet, but after that night, we couldn’t spend a minute apart from one another.  He suckered me in with his piercing blue eyes, his sense of humor and his english accent, (yes, he was british, dangerous). We spent every day together after that night and eventually also started an auto consulting company as a team.  We were unstoppable.

Our company exploded…it was amazing.  We travelled to dealerships all over the country so there were very few days a month that we were off work.  After a long weekend in Port Arthur, Texas, we received a call that one of our clients had to postpone our visit, so we had a free weekend coming…WOO HOO!  We should rest, I say, to which he responds, “why don’t we get married in Vegas?” Ummm, not the most romantic proposal, and he was fresh out of a marriage, had four kids, serious debt, hmmm, weigh out the options….Ok, that was enough, SURE…let’s do this!

We switched our flight to land in Las Vegas and we were on our way!  My parents were not too keen on him, so we didn’t tell them, and my sister would probably tell my rents, so didn’t tell her…my bro lived with them, cuz he wasn’t even in high school yet, so couldn’t tell him…hmmmm, ok, so I’m doing this solo…I survived cancer all by myself, supported myself through school alone, why not get married without anyone’s support, just seemed natural.

We landed, went straight to the registrars office, rented some wedding duds, checked into the hotel, took a nap and then made one of the largest gambles of my life…

to be continued………..

From a band geek to someone that jams…

Yes, this is really from my band years........

There are certain requirements for raising a child in the mid-west: A. the children must go to church with the family every Sunday. B. They must be involved in a minimum of 2 organized sports per year, and C. they must be enrolled in piano lessons.  There are more, but these are the absolute musts…

As a little one, my musical lessons were the bane of my existence.  Mr Meyer’s was our neighborhood’s piano teacher.  He came over every week, and at the end of the 30 min lesson he gave each of us a gumball, which was the only visible silver lining (to me anyway, in the moment).

To this day, many moons later, he still asks me “what grade are you in?” EVERY TIME I SEE HIM, but I always say the same answer…”tenth grade,” I want a gumball…don’t judge me:)

When you hit 6th grade, you can go one of three ways…either you become a band geek, a jock, or a confused fusion of both worlds.  I chose the latter.  I was a cheerleader, and I played the trumpet in band.  This was the beginning of the end for me in school, as I really don’t know what was a more awkward combination of activities.  Oh wait, I know what is more awkward, when debate team was added to the mix in high school.  You can imagine my level of popularity (p.s. it was very low).

FAST FORWARD to just last week…my friend and fellow comedian Brenda Colonna started a chick band and asked if I played any instruments…HECK YES!!!!!! I play the trumpet yo!!!!  To which she replied amazing and asked me to join….umm, SICK…my nerdy ways finally are paying off in the world of the cool! (yes, Brenda is one of those people that is “cool,” she always has been and always will be, but not in a mean-girls way, just in a, I don’t care what you think kind of way).

My dear-ol-dad polished it up, like an amazing Dad would, and put it in the mail!  Who knows what is going to come of this, I’m just excited to be apart of late night jam sessions and the possibility of some groupies…Ok, the groupies comment went a little far, a girl can dream though, right???

I look at my clock every day at 9:26 via thisgreatstory.com

My best friend Briana, aka Breezy did not believe me when I had originally told her that I randomly glance at the clock at exactly 9:26 either in the morning, or the evening, and sometimes both times, every… single… day.    That is enough to drive a girl crazy, but in the spirit of sharing (cuz sharing is caring), I started contacting her via text, phone, social media, with every glance, and she soon was not only convinced of my plague, but inadvertently joined me in this affliction.

I don’t know the exact moment this started, but I do know it was around the time my oncologist unilaterally decided to turn me into a bulimic.  Yep, I had breast cancer at the lucky age of 20.  I say lucky because I was too young and naive to think I was going to get anything but better…and I really feel that was what cured my disease.  I guess I can give some props to the vomit-inducing chemotherapy, skin-irritating radiation and femininity-stripping double mastectomy…(who else do you know that would go to such great lengths for an insurance-funded boob-job?!).

Even though I walked away with complimentary “enhancements”…

To see the rest of the story, just go to ThisGreatStory.com