DomestiGal Sue wants a Diamond Ring... ASAP!

Girls, here it is. This is what DomestiGal Sue actually looks like.

Okay, sort of. But. Um, not really at all.

Because I'm way hotter.

Totally diggin' her cleavage though. Clearly pronounced by that diamond necklace and the V-neck dress.

Anyway.

So, I think I'm ready. Not really for a diamond *diamond* ring. But for a moissanite diamond ring.

Did DomestiGal Jen just faint? Wake up, darling, you heard right!

Here's the deal. Last weekend I flew back to Vermont to visit mumsy and daddykins for my dad's 60th birthday. I showed my mom my Domestic Partnership ring and the Asian woman did not approve. Okay, mind you, it was also the first time she was seeing my youngest sister's way-too-fabulous Tiffany's diamond engagement ring, but still.

Can you really compare my Domestic Partnership ring to a Tiffany's ring?




In typical, manipulative Asian mom style, she did the deepest, dirtiest trick: she made me try on all her diamond and pseudo-diamond rings. Including her wedding ring.

Then, mommy dearest made me fly back to NYC wearing one of these beyond fabulous pseudo-diamond rings. I may or may not be wearing it now while blogging.

Anyway, I'm now entranced. DomestiGal ooh-I'm-so-different-anti-diamond Sue (ew, I'm so sick of myself) has now turned into DomestiGal I NEED A DIAMOND RING STAT Sue.

The next thing you know, I may actually want to get married, or something terribly perverse like that.

Ladies, please, please, please take pictures of her beautiful diamond rings and post them now.

Wait, why are you still reading?

Run -- run like an Asian tourist to your camera and snap those photos!

I'm begging you!

Love,

Diamond Diva Sue

Why The Doctor Drives Me Loony...

Dear DomestiGals,

Last time I ended my post asking what everyone's boyfriend, girlfriend, fiance, husband, wife or domestic partner did that drove you all nuts.

I wanted to share what happened today.

There I was, happily blogging away for my various sites, when The Doctor's personal trainer appeared at our house. She is a pretty hilarious girl, but I almost died when she came into our apartment and started eating Starbursts and other candy. Thankfully, even The Doctor called her out on it, to which she replied, "Dude, I'm hypoglycemic."

Apple, anyone?

(Jen, can you even *imagine* Colossus, your A to the Mazing personal training, even eating a slice of pizza, let alone candy?? If he eats candy, it's probably made out of tofu!)

Anyway, The Doctor, my dearly beloved, must be the worst personal training client in the world. I knew he was terrible at exercise and a bit lazy, but today he was out of control.

He did all of the following of his 45 minute workout:

1. Came over to say hello
2. Came over to kiss me
3. Started vacuuming
4. Went to the bathroom
5. Changed his "workout" music from disco to hiphop and then back to disco again
6. Came over to show me this letter he got in the mail from a friend, and did I think we should put it up on the fridge or just recycle it?

Oy, oy, oy.

It is highly debatable whether he actually got through his assigned sit-ups, push-ups and squats.

Come on, ladies. Are you telling me that Caz is the only one who has a partner who drives her crazy with his dirty laundry?

Jen, how does The Lawyer put you over the edge?

Love,

Drill Sargent Sue

PS: Happy Halloween, DomestiGals! What spooky (or hot) outfits will you be wearing tonight?

I went to City Hall today...

Sorry, Jen -- I didn't get married at City Hall! Puh-leeze! (I know what your Dirty Domestic Goddess mind was thinking!)

I took a break from my DomestiGal duties today to run down to City Hall and incorporate the parent company of my various businesses.

Now, not to be totally out there, but wouldn't you agree that forming a corporation is a slightly serious endeavor? That's what I thought, as well, until I went to do it.

While setting up my business checking account (not the same person who Domestic Partnered me and The Doctor, unfortunately), my banker told me, "Now, when you go to City Hall to set up your business, make sure you visit the coffee guy. Most people don't know that you can pick up your forms at the coffee shop."

"That's really bizarre," I thought, "Why would I ever go to the coffee shop to pick up business forms?"

Anyway, I took the A train down to Chambers Street, eventually found 60 Center Street, and went through all the various security lines and found my way down to the Business room. I proudly marched myself to the counter, and was ignored by the state employees for a good 5 minutes while they finished dancing around to some mmmm-bop from the 90s.

Finally, this woman comes over to me and asked what I wanted to do. Upon hearing my response, she questioned, "Did you pick up your business formation forms from the coffee shop?"

"Um, what? No, can't I pick up the forms here?"

"No, we don't keep corporation forms here. You have to go back up to the first floor and get your forms from the coffee shop."

I just had to laugh, since this pretty much confirmed that Manhattan is not the epicenter of the world, as everyone thinks it is. So, off I went to the deli guy upstairs, who sold bags of chips, People and InTouch Magazines, and all the documents you need to start a business in NYC.

Sigh.

I think I should have had the deli guy Domestic Partner me and The Doctor, rather than the dude at the bank. It would have been so much more glamorous.

But, moving on from business and back to our bootylicious bottoms.

First of all, a workout can never be *too* hard. After all, no one wants jiggly buns in their wedding dress of dreams, right? I certainly don't want a jiggly butt in my beehive outfit. (I am competing with the Queen Bee, after all).

Amazingly, I have never thrown up after a workout. I did, however, one time make The Doctor get terribly green after I pushed him too hard with his exercises. He now refuses to work out with me and his personal trainer comes over once a week to watch him do push-ups on his knees. Seriously, the last time I came home his trainer was standing in the middle of our living room completely exasperated and The Doctor was working on his computer. His trainer practically had to beg him to come back and do another set of pretty basic sit ups. I was absolutely furious with him!

Working out the brain does not equal working out the body!

Ladies in DomestiGal land... admit it... what do your guys do that drive you up the wall bonkers?

xx,
Big Business Sue

Honeymoon of Dreams

Hulk Jen,

I *love* that you are part of the Powerlifting Club. I mean, of course you are. Are you making all the Brits look like fried weenies? I bet you can drink them into the ground too! I think you should definitely start joining competitions. Don't you think you could make enough money (as obviously you would win, duh) to pay for your Honeymoon of Dreams?

I realize you and The Lawyer have romanced your way around Germany, Italy and who knows where else this year... but what are your thoughts on the Honeymoon destination?

One of me and The Doctor's good friends is living in Palau this year.

www.nationalgeographic.com

We thought we could do a stopover in Palau after visiting and being criticized by my relatives in Taiwan. Nothing like a fake-honeymoon with the relatives. (By the way, did I ever mention that my parents went on their honeymoon to Japan with my dad's parents? Lord knows how they've stayed married for 30+ years after that!)

DomestiGals, where have the rest of you honeymooned? If you aren't married or Domestic Partnered yet, where are you planning on getting married?

xx,

DomestiGal Sue

Introducing the Parents...

Jen,

I think I finally stopped laughing over your big non-engagement ring "outing" your first day of business classes! Are you now known as "engagement ring Jen"? I'm sure there are 5-10 Jens in your program, so you clearly have some sort of descriptor going on before your name.

Ahem. Actually, while we were planning on getting Domestic Partnered in the post office, in the end we decided to be even *more* romantic and do it at the bank instead.

In response to your question re: my betrothed status, let's just say our parents aren't quite satisfied yet. Aside from that, anytime I refer to "My Partner, The Doctor," people either assume that a) I'm speaking about my business partner or b) I'm a lesbian.

Sigh.

But! BUT! The Doctor's family will be travelling from NYC to New England to visit my family this Thanksgiving and have their formal introductions.

Amazingly, I'm not nervous in the least. Mostly because of the following mathematical calculation (hello, you know how much we Asians love math).

Fabulous half-Asian family + Fabulous Jewish family = Super Fun Times.

Of course my wonderful Asian mum is already obsessing over all the following:

* "Where will The Doctor sleep?"

Mind you, because we're not married, my Asian mum typically puts us on SEPARATE FLOORS. Um, seriously. a) I'm almost 30 and b) We live together and c) We have been together for over 2 years and d) Mother, puh-lease! You're always embarrassing me!

* "What do Jewish people (read: non-Asian people) eat?"

Okay. As I have been dating Jewish guys since 1999, you think she would have a handle on this already, but she continues to obsess. This is the friendly exchange we had today:

Asian Mum: "Sue, what will The Doctor's family want to eat? No pork, right???!!"

Mean, Impatient Daughter: "Ma, I told you! They eat everything!"

Asian Mum: "What? Really? They eat pork?"

M.I.D.: "As The Doctor says, 'No one loves bacon as much as a Jew.' "

Asian Mum: "Bacon's too fatty. I don't want your father eating so much fat. His belly keeps getting bigger! He looks pregnant. Is The Doctor getting fat? Does he look pregnant? You both have to stop eating so much!"

M.I.D.: "Ma, stop being mean! I told you not to start making Fat Comments when we're home this time. Please, try not to tell The Doctor to "suck it in" while he's resting on the couch this time, okay? You're turning into your mother!"

Asian Mum: "I'm not being mean. Mummy loves you and The Doctor. Only Mummy will tell you the truth. Anyway, we're not having bacon. I want to have a make-your-own-sushi party."

I mean, obviously she does. We'll all just sit around in our lovely kimonos, eat sashimi with chopsticks in our hair, and occasionally get up to shuffle around the house with our little feet.

The meeting will obviously be a riot.

Love,

Fatso Sue

What Ring?

Darling Sue,

Wait a sec. "The Betrothed"? I'm confused. I thought you and The Doctor already got your blessing from the post office worker and are officially Domestic Partners. So what's this "Betrothed"??? You're not crossing over to the fabulous side, are you? I mean, stranger things have happened. Not that I can think of any off the top of my head right now. But still. I'm sure they have.

But seriously. Please do explain. And I do like your ring, by the way!

Speaking of rings (or lack thereof), have I told you that since I've been at school I have started wearing the ring The Lawyer got me for my birthday last year on my ring finger? Between being apart from him (and, thus, wanting to demonstrate that my fabulousness is, alas, spoken for) and the general state of the economy (and, thus, the big giant question mark that has replaced the center stone in my Ring of Dreams), The Lawyer and I decided that it was time to make the switch from right hand to left hand. And let me tell you, it feels good!

Of course, I decided once I got here that I needed to come out of the closet. 

Yes, my classmates are all now aware of the fact that I am an unengaged former Domestic Goddess who is planning her wedding with a ring on her ring finger that is not in fact her engagement ring. In fact, the very first day of orientation, we were randomly assigned a classmate and had to talk with them and then spend 30 seconds introducing them to the class. As a guide, we were given a list of questions to ask, such as... "Where are you from?" "Where were you working pre-MBA?" "What actor would play you in a movie?" "What is the bravest thing you've ever done?" and "What is your most valued possession?"

My answer to that, which was then announced to my entire class by the guy who interviewed me? "The engagement ring she doesn't have yet."

Let me tell you, it got a huge laugh.

I just hope people were laughing for the right reasons...

Forever Dreaming of Bling,

Jen 

Domestic Partnership Rings have been purchased!

Wow. Okay. A big DomestiGal thank you to Bekah yesterday for her wonderful post!

So, The Doctor and I finally went to Versani and bought our Domestic Partnership rings! I have to say that they're pretty fabulous and we are both very excited about them.


Of course, it took me about 2 minutes to choose the one I wanted; however, The Doctor must have spent 45 minutes choosing "the perfect" ring. He's so particular and fancy sometime -- but it's completely adorable.

You know what else is adorable?


The other day he said to me, "DomestiGal Sue, I just imagine you at 60 and me at 70, clutching each other and sobbing hysterically if we don't have kids. We should have babies."

Sigh.

To be honest, I haven't been in a particularly pro-baby mood. (Especially when I saw in the paper the other day that the average kid costs $250,000 BEFORE they go to college...) But, Jewish-Asian babies are just *too cute* to not have!


Okay, but back to our rings.

Do you want to see pictures of the rings we got? I mean, obviously you do.


Here you go!






This is The Doctor's Domestic Partnership Ring o' Love.





This is DomestiGal Sue's Partnership Ring o' Domesticity.

I have to say that both rings look so-so in these photos, but look like Seriously Something when you see them on our ring fingers.

And, of course, they had to special order my size 4.5 ring. The Doctor's a size 9, so he was fine.

Jen, I know you hate when I talk about fun ring stuff while you're busy sharing scary toilets and scarier fridge-space with your new dorm mates.... I'm sorry, my friend!

He he.

By the way, I certainly hope The Lawyer noticed the article in The Week magazine the other day, indicating how exponentially ridiculous the cost of diamond rings have become and how they're going to go up even more! He needs to buy your Ring of Dreams super stat!

Love,

The Betrothed.

To Spoon or Fork?

Alas. I know all of you are just dying – dying! – to know that after 2 years of domestic-partnership bliss, the doctor and I still spoon.

And not just for a few minutes before he or I do the “Squeeze and Roll” method that Ross made famous in that excellent episode of Friends. Oh no! I mean, we spoon the entire night.

What’s absolutely terrific is that we really have it down to a science. I lay on my right side with my two pillows in a perfect L shape. (One for my head, and the other one for me to squeeze). Then, The Doctor wraps his arm around me so that we’re holding left hands. Sometime in the middle of the night, I rollover and squeeze his nose, which signals him to turn so that I can begin to spoon him.

Truly all of you in DomestiGal land just needed to know that.

And now I need to know how all of you sleep with your partners. Specifically – PJs or no PJs?

After all my highly enlightening blog postings, I’m sure you can guess what my answer is.

Sadly, my darling Jen, I don't even know how to respond to your questions regarding my sister's new Tiffany's engagement ring! I just asked The Doctor, and he says he thinks it's a Classic Tiffany's engagement ring. I'm pretty sure it doesn't have any side stones, so that makes it a solitaire -- and -- (I'm looking at the Tiffany's site now) not the Round-Brilliant. In terms of karats... uh, I have no idea. The other day, I asked my friend Lynn how many karats her diamond ring is, and she had no idea either.

Clearly we're not the typical Sex and the City Girls that Manhattan claims to have.

xx,

Still Spoonin’ Sue

Wedding Vows

Not to totally be fromage-y (cheesy, for those non-francophiles), but I feel like every day with The Doctor is another day of Domestic Partnership Vows.

Just last night he goes, "DomestiGal Sue," (Okay, fine, he doesn't call me DomestiGal Sue...)

Let's begin that again.

Just last night he said, "Sue, I feel like when I met you the clouds all disappeared..."

I mean, ya'll know that I don't like sentimental crap, but I have to say that I'm one lucky gal to have my man!

Especially since I'm such a Bitch with a capital B.

Well, ladies? What sort of wedding vows did you guys say to your husbands-to-be? Are you writing your own vows?? What do your boyfriends/fiances/domestic partners say to you on a daily or not-so-daily basis?

Love,

Angel of the Clouds Sue

Alternative Wedding Rings -- Sue needs help!

Dear DomestiGal Jen (and all our other wonderful DomestiGals who commented on yesterday's post -- Renee, Kyla and Michelle... I know I'm missing some of you ladies!)

I love your idea of having donations to you and The Lawyer's favorite charities! I must say, the few friends of mine who've actually had a wedding do this exact same thing as well! I think it's one of the most moving and memorable things that you can do for a wedding. As your future minister, I give my Official DomestiGal Seal of Approval!

As for the bridal mag craft project, I can't say it's how I'd spend my time, but I think it's the perfect task for a Domestic Goddess.

Of course, now I must do a shameless plug for me and my friend's non-profit... forgive me, DomestiGals, but I must, I must! It's called Smiles Across the Miles, and we provide medical and dental supplies to pediatric patients and orphanages in Bolivia.

Okay, now for an extreme change in topic.

So here's the deal.

The Doctor keeps harassing me over what kind of partnership band I want and I just don't know what to do. I mean, I'm not exactly the diamond-wearing-type. If I ever leave my house in something other than a tank top and jeans, friends and colleagues of mine don't recognize me.

So, what should I get? Did any of our DomestiGals out there get something other than a diamond ring??

Here are some sites that I have looked at. Jen, do you like any of them? Seriously, if I could afford a personal shopper, I would just put her to work.

There's this place in Brooklyn, NY called The Clay Pot which has a lot of beautiful items. They are a bit too expensive for my taste (i.e., they cost more than $100/ring... Hey, I'm stingy), but let me know your thoughts.





It's by Marian Maurer and called the Laurie Band. I know it's a bit plain for your taste. I mean, you're looking for a diamond that acts as a ship's headlights for a boat ride from NYC to London, but this is me we're talking about.


What about this one? It's called the Matsu Organic Band.









Yikes! I'm bored after spending 5 minutes researching rings. Any suggestions from other DomestiGals about fun, funky wedding rings?

Love,

Size 4.5 ring-finger Sue

Money and Wedding Etiquette

Dearest Jen,

You were *much* needed here in the Big Apple the other day. My friend, Dana, and I were completely lost without you. Dana has been with her boyfriend for about eight years, and the other day they decided to get engaged -- just because.

Actually, she forgot to tell me she was engaged for about 2 weeks. You see, I’d like to take a DomestiGal moment to explain that Dana – like me – is not a blushing-bride-in-waiting. She’s a little more “traditional” than me, I suppose, because she’s actually going to have a wedding. But, in the end, she didn’t really care about transitioning from her Domestic Partnership status to Wedded Bliss.

Which brings me to my question.

This question has to deal with wedding etiquette. You see, she doesn’t want to have a bridal registry and get a bunch of useless Tupperware and china dishes that she’ll only end up breaking or selling on eBay. Instead, she wants hard cold cash.

However.

Clearly it’s tres rude to just say, “Give me cash, not cheesy gifts” on your wedding card invitation. But how should one go about doing this?

One of her friends told her that she should just register on The Knot, get all the gifts, and then exchange them for cash. But then she has just made all her friends pay for shipping, and it seems just as mean-spirited to do such a thing.

Thoughts out there in DomestiGal land?

How have the rest of you dealt with this not-quite-as-delicate-as-your-cooch issue?

Love,

Domestic Partner Sue

This is about YOU, Sue.

Oh Sue,

I do not even know where to start with you.

First of all, please tell me you only forgot to blog about your anniversary, but that you did in fact remember to celebrate it with your beloved. And if you did forget to wish him a happy anniversary, I don't want to know. I mean I have been planning The Lawyer's second anniversary present since, like, the week before our first. But this is not about me.

Also, you got the correct season and year of our wedding, but the wrong month, my dear. Not that I am prepared to spill our actual date into the blogosphere, as I fear the sans-ring-jinx-potential, but I just want to make sure you are properly preggo at the right time.

Aha! Bet you thought the vision of you with The Good Doctor's spawn in your womb and no wedding ring on your finger presiding over my dream nuptials would scandalize me! Alas, no.

What is slightly unnerving, however, is that it seems you and Jewish George are starting to veer in quite different directions when it comes to turning the DP into a big M. I thought you were both cool with being in a post office worker-sanctioned Domestic Partnership. I mean, you're like my token alternafriend. All my other friends are or want to get married. I need someone in my life who adds a little diversity (and I don't just mean your half-Asian hotness).

But this is not about me. I just want to make sure that you are continuing to be true to yourfabself and that the lines of communication between you and Save-the-Children-Man are open and functioning as efficiently as Michael Phelps' freestyle.

I have enough things in my life to worry about right now, from starting my MBA to picking out wedding favors. Please do not add to the load.

(Not that this is about me.)

Love to you,

Jen

Partnership Rings: Right Hand to Left Hand

Dearest Jen,

Please confirm that those Brits really do wear their engagement/wedding/partnership rings on their right hands. I don't want all our European readers to be confused from my blog post title.

Today, the Doctor told me that he was experimenting and wearing his usual "ring-finger" ring on his left hand (in the States, the wedding hand... in India, the hand you wipe your ass with, but I digress). Anyway, it was tres cute to hear. He asked that I move my fancy-looking ring that I wear on my right hand and move it to my left as well, to "see what it's like" as he found it to be rather powerful.

I think he's just feeling sensitive and cutesy, as we just spent a fabulous weekend with my family up in the country. We went hiking, wine-tasting, cheered at the tractor-pull (hello, I'm from farm-country), and got harassed by my mother.

The priceless conversation I had with my Asian mother this past weekend included the following:

Judgemental Asian Mother (JAM): "So, what form of birth control do you guys use?"
Horrified Domestic Partner Daughter (HDPD): "What did you ask?"
JAM: "You heard me. What kind of birth control do you use?"
HDPD: "Ma, please!"
JAM: "I'm just wondering, Sue. Mama loves you and wants to know."
HDPD: (Lying) "Condoms." (Ahem, we don't really, but I had to make up something.)
JAM: "Oh, terrific! You know, you three girls were all condom babies, which means you may accidentally get pregnant! Hurrah!"

So, apparently it's fine by my rather-conservative Asian mother that I get knocked up since we're in a Domestic Partnership. In fact, I can just imagine her praying to her buddhas every night that I get a buddha-belly stat.

I must say that reading your post about housing teenage girls for the next couple of days is the best form of birth control out there.

Love,

Mother of a Future Bastard Child

DP Gal Gone Mall Wild

Dear DG,

Ug.

I really hate shopping. I mean, really, really hate to shop. The Doctor and Sister #2 tried to take me shopping today, as they're horrified by my uncreative wardrobe. If I ever had a day where I wore something other than a tank top and jeans, I think I'd be unrecognizable. I did, however, take a break from squirming my way out of trying things on by wandering by the ring section.

Yes, it's true. We tried on rings. Again.

The first time we tried on potential partnership rings was in Chinatown. When I told my mom -- my Asian mom -- she was absolutely horrified. "Why would you ever be looking for rings in Chinatown? Don't be disgusting!" Said like a true Taiwanese woman.

Today, I decided to class-it-up a bit, by making Ring Trip #2 in a suburban mall.

Sigh. Darling Domestic Goddess, could you and I be more polar opposites?

* You shop for rings at Tiffany's, and I look for rings 50% off at a strip mall.
* You want to get married at this exquisite country mansion, and I insist that my domestic partnership "ceremony" be at the bank.
* The Lawyer pays for you; I pay for The Doctor.

Yes, this is a friendship made in DomestiGal heaven, no doubt. Forever and ever, my dear friend.

Love,

Sue, DP

PS: I just love how hot the Design-her-Gals made us look. But, I have to ask, am I cupping your ass in the photo? No doubt due to how sculpted Colossus has made it become!

Fusion Finances and JewAsians

Dearest Domestic Goddess,

My lord. While you were busy figuring out what monogram is going to be on your wedding invitations and bathrobes, I was asking The Doctor the following question, "Darling, if you die and I'm already dead (even though I'm 10 years younger and fabulously fit), to whom should our possessions go?" Of course, at this point my only prized possessions are my laptop and my various assortment of vibrators, and those should probably be buried with me.

Why was I asking such a horrid question? Because, in Domestic Partnership land here in Manhattan, we've got our follow up appointment with our Financial Advisor (i.e. "Our Relationships Savior").

We had to sit down today for two hours and discuss forming our future living wills, our investment strategy, when we plan to retire and die, how outrageous we are about spending lots of money on wine and sake, why his insists on throwing his underwear all over the apartment, Italian-Japanese fusion (the newest downtown trendy delight) and other only-necessary-in-NY-but-possibly-London sort of financial things.

The amazing thing is that I would rather be spending hours talking about finances then looking at monograms. It's sounds so terribly WASPy, my dear Domestic Goddess. You see, here in Asian Dragon-Jewish Doctor (JewAsian? Jew(y)ellow?) Couplehood, we just don't think of these things.

That said, I want whatever you want. (I'm sitting here, trembling in my seat, for fear of pissing off Bridezilla-in-Waiting). They are all stunningly beautiful monograms.

I mean, obviously I'm just jealous.

Don't you see? The real reason I don't want to get married is because Asians simply don't look good in white. It so doesn't go with our skin tone.

xx,
Twinkie

Bridezilla Schmidezilla

My dearest and favoritest Domestic Partner,

Okay, so you are also the only gal I know who is in a legal domestic partnership, but that doesn't mean my love and admiration for you are any less,

Fear not! Just because I stayed awake for my entire red-eye flight from Detroit to London reading my new crop of bridal mags from cover to cover does not - I repeat, does NOT - mean that I will go all bridezilla on your yenta-cum-ministress ass.

I am the first to admit that booking our wedding location and starting the planning process before getting engaged, yes, without an engagement ring on my finger, is unconventional - though I must also say that it is much easier to browse vendors' websites without being blinded by the rays of glorious light emanating from my Ring of Dreams.

I will also admit that commencing Bridal Boot Camp and counting grams of protein with over a year to go until my nuptials may be a little intense - but remember, I am a Domestic Goddess! I don't work, I Dyson! What else am I going to do all day if I'm not exercising vigilance over my increasingly hot physique?

You can also give thanks to the High and Mighty Internet for keeping me sane in the coming months - okay, YEAR and months. There are a ton of fabulous, grounded brides-to-be out there: Veronica from NYC, Kelly and Natalie in DC, and even a gal in LA who is planning a $10,000 wedding! I mean how crazy can I possibly go?

Love,

Bridezilla in Waiting?

Jen,

I laughed hilariously over the fact that you took a picture of all the bridal magazines you bought. I laughed, but then I stopped a few seconds later with a thought that left me in horror.

Are you a bridezilla-in-waiting?

I know I agreed to be your Naughty Pastor who presides over the ceremony, but am I going to come out of the wedding rehearsal with a black eye and a broken arm? I mean, it's okay if I am, I just want to be prepared.

Thankfully, none of my friends have traditional weddings (or get married), so I've never been privy to this sort of person. I'm wondering if you'll be my first.

Here are a list of my concerns and grievances:

1. You already have a psychotic (but hot) trainer, Colossus, over a year before you get engaged.
2. You've been emailing me every 5 minutes about how much protein you should/should not be eating.
3. Your wedding location place is booked.
4. Um, am I playing the piano at your wedding and saying "You may now kiss the hopefully-back-to-normal bride"?
5. You've been swimming in all your bridal magazine cutouts and pasting them all over your room so now The Lawyer has no place to sleep next to you. (Okay, this may not be true, but this is what I envision).

Just for clarity to all our new friends out in google-andia, you are not -- I repeat -- not yet engaged. Right?

What's going to happen when you officially get engaged?

I think I'm going to check out http://www.bridezilla.com/ and see if they have a support center for Nervous Nellies like me. I'm worried that I'm going to open up a package from you in the near future, and it's going to be a Nutella bomb from all the chocolate you haven't been allowing yourself to eat over there in London.

Let it be known right now, I hope we're still friends a year from now.

For now, I'm happy with my domestic partnership over here in Manhattan. After all, if my ass has an extra jiggle in it from eating the full box of Annie's mac 'n cheese, it only gets The Doctor more excited.

Love,

Sue

Porn and Partnerships

Dear Domestic Goddess,

Ahem. How are you living in Europe without eating granola every single day? When I studied in Paris, I used to stay home on Friday nights (or, perhaps, also on Saturday nights), just to eat my granola with real chocolate chunks in it. I would race down the hallway to my friend's room and order her to hide the box of chocolate granola from me! Why the U.S. can't have this simple delight is beyond comprehension; that said, I'd be 20 pounds heavier if they did.

So. Um. Did you guys seriously not eat carbs and not drink in Italy? That seems a bit insane. No gelato? No red wine? No pasta? DG, I no longer have respect for you.

Things in Domestic Partnership land are grand, I will admit. Thankfully, I'm on baby-hiatus, no doubt in part to the fact that you've returned from your big voyage. I've got home-hunting on my mind, rather than leg-spreading.

Speaking of which... I've decided I need to take a break from porn. My addiction to it has gone too far, and I need a long hiatus. Have you and The Lawyer started watching it together yet? When The Doctor was gone last weekend, I went a bit vibrator-crazy with some of my favorite porn sites. Aside from the fact that one of the sites downloaded annoying SpyWare on my computer, I realized that I was about to vibrate myself to oblivion.

Okay, The Doctor is behind me now, giving my shoulders a wonderful deep tissue massage. I'm off, DG, I'm off!

Love,

Twinkie Princess

Little Liabilities and Prenups

Domestic Goddess,

Thank god you're back! Now you can be the one to coo over spawning children, and I can pretend to get back to my anti-baby ways. The other day, The Doctor and I were sitting around thinking of baby names.

Oy, I think I just threw up on myself.

And last night, while I was a bit drunk, I called Scott up and said, "Let's try having a baby tonight!" But it was only temporary insanity, as I was out with co-workers and one of them just announced that his wife is pregnant. I'll let you guess who at a later moment.

For the past year, I've just thought of babies as little liabilities that run around and bother you until they're 30! Which brings me to our next Domestic Partner adventure.

The other day, we had a session with a financial adviser. This was a big deal for both of us, since money can be such a touchy subject. Carey, our adviser and now relationship therapist, said, "I don't care what anyone says. Money is a more intimate subject than sex!" At that point, I knew she was hired.

Carey, our Savior, will help us plan when we can buy an apartment and then potentially start a baby fund. I'm obsessed with this wealth vault we have, which keeps track of where all your money is in stocks, bonds, mutual funds, bank accounts and savings account in a side-by-side comparison and then shows you your net worth. Hot.

She asked us all these questions about being in a Domestic Partnership, and whether we ever planned to get married. I'm sure I'm the only woman she's ever had in there who is dating a doctor, makes a fraction of what he does, and says, "Not without a prenup." I know it's terribly unromantic, dear Domestic Goddess, but it's tres important in my book. Even Carey agreed and she's getting one with her finance! She said in The Doctor's field, he could be sued, and if we were married I'd be equally as liable. No thanks.

The Doctor and I have never been on the same financial page, as he's a spender and I'm a saver. I was getting really stressed out about this issue over the last two years, but now our Savior can direct (i.e. kick) him in the right direction, and I can sit back and drink my martini.

Love,

Domestic Partner

To Baby or Not to Baby?

Dearest Domestic Goddess,

While you're off frolicking in Italy, my biggest highlight this week has been getting amazing health insurance! As you know, I've had Freelancer's Union health insurance this past year, which really did nothing for me unless I all of a sudden woke up one day with three eyes and one leg.

Anyway, since getting on The Doctor's Health Insurance (as our Domestic Partnership went through beautifully with his hospital), the strangest thing has happened... all of a sudden, I want to go for every medical checkup I can think of! Pathetically, I just want to go for fun because I can. And, equally as strange, is this sudden desire to reproduce again. As you know, I've been tres anti-baby for a while, so this has been the biggest shocker to me.

This past year, I didn't do my usual somewhat dangerous activities of snowboarding, rockclimbing and the like, and I think it's because I was too nervous without good health insurance. I had read in The Armchair Economist: Economics & Everyday Life, that people will drive more recklessly with seat belts and airbags. In fact, the author, Steven E. Landsburg, writes, "[in order] to bring about a major reduction in the accident rate: Require every car to have a spear mounted on the steering wheel, pointed directly at the driver's heart." No doubt that would bring about safer driving from all these NYC taxi driving freaks.

Moving on. Now that I feel like hanging out at the doctor's office every five seconds, all of a sudden my uterus has come alive again! I assumed this year that I didn't want to have kids after watching several of my friends' marriages dissolve because of kids and household responsibilities. I'm not interested in kickin' it with my Domestic Partner due to a poop-filled diaper, you know?

But now I'm wondering if it had to do with not having health insurance, and not feeling like I had enough money to provide for Little Baby Buddha. I've been getting more clients, so I've been feeling more financially secure, and, with that, it makes me think it's okay for me to spawn. (Though me and my beloved's kids may be so weird that they'll spin out into outer space, so maybe it's not a good idea...)

Who really knows what's going on? I'm 29 and I really thought my belly was Closed For Business. Perhaps, since 30 is fast approaching, my clock is coming out of the dust-filled basement?

Guess I can't call babies Little Liabilities anymore.

Love,

Domestic Partner