Ted and Shay: Na Zdorovje!

Ah, the Russians. They really know how to drink/eat/make bad techno-dance music.

It was a spooky Halloween (Shay’s birthday). I decided to take her to Moscow on the Hill.

On the way I totally saw my favorite costume that year: a nine year old boy dressed as Flava-Flav. BOOM!

Not only does Moscow on the Hill have THE best stroganoff in town,

but they also have like, Nine Million kinds of Vodka from around the world (obviously right up Shay’s alley).

While enjoying a free shot of in-house distilled cherry vodka, I contemplated my master plan.

After cramming down some kind of amazing meat, cream and mushroom dish, not to mention a few more cocktails, I decided it was about time.

Shay will remember just as well as I will that I was acting weird. I didn’t drop to one knee, 1: because I think some traditions are kind of hokey. I didn’t want it to look like an act from a crappy play and 2: because I had just forced about two pounds of Russian food into my gut. I probably would have split my pants or ripped one….or both.

I wanted it to seem genuine. I reached across the table and took her hands. Then I babbled. Some people would prepare for this kind of thing. Not me, I wing that shit. I know I meant everything I said and that’s what really matters anyway. Obviously she said yes or I wouldn’t be writing this post.

The waiter was kind enough to bring us yet another round of free drinks (a combo of champagne and their cherry vodka). A small, fat Russian man with an accordion approached our table and said what I took to be: “I play for you now.”

It was pretty awesome, even if he could barely play the thing. Though there was an incredibly drunk middle-aged hippie lady who was throwing twenties at him like he was the greatest thing since The Rolling Stones.

So, among the sour cream, Russian mobsters, and enough vodka to pay a Soviet Union teacher for 15 years, I sealed the deal. It could not have been better……

ted

Photo credits: Moscow on the Hill,  Pictures of Cupcakes blog, We Got Served blog



Ted and Shay: Let the shoe porn begin! (total SFW, BTW)

I'm on the hunt for shoes for the wedding. I'm saving money by making my own dress so it's only natural to reward myself for taking on such a huge project by splurging on a pair of kicks for the shin-dig, right?

Apparently, designer shoes are no longer attainable, even at my inflated price range. I've yet to find a pair under $600, much less the $300 max I set for myself. I'm going to have to wait for the spring sales, scout my sale-stores and just be patient (not a strong suit of mine).  One good thing, my feet are almost drag-queen sized so usually there are plenty of leftovers in the clearance bins/sites.

As much as I'd love to own a fabulous pair of Christian Louboutin shoes, I might cross them off the list. It seems like every tacky, over the top wedding I see photos of on blogs, has a princess-bride wearing red-soled shoes.  They also never seem to go below the $700 mark even when on super clearance.  This is me being practical.

For the time being, here's a slide show of what I'm having wet dreams about:

Thanks for playing!

xox

Shaylyn

Ted & Shay: This isn't the first time...

Not many of you know this, but Ted’s proposal to me on my birthday this year, was not the first time he popped the question.

A couple of years ago we attempted to devour a stuffed pizza at Grampa Tony’s and in my carb-drunkenness (yes, it can happen) I brought up the practicality of co-habitating. At the time, I lived in NE and Ted was over in Midway. We nearly spent more time driving to each other’s places than we spent together.  I had other reasons for the big step, packed in my mental arsenal, but the awkward silence coming from the other side of the table shut me up pretty fast.

More hurt than angry, I pulled out my greatest defense mechanism, the deadly Silent Treatment as we drove from the restaurant to Target.  Ted tried to bring down the wall by throwing random items into my cart and then loudly proclaiming to passers-by, “Hey look, my girlfriend is buying Larry the Cable Guy!”

I’m used to this “game” because he does it almost every time we’re shopping, no matter what store we’re at.  It failed to crack me and the shopping excursion continued.

While browsing the jewelry area for cheap thrills, I turned around and almost ran over Ted. He was getting down on one knee, in front of a pretty good sized group of people and in his hand was the most horrifyingly ugly piece of plastic I have ever laid eyes on.

Not the exact eyesore, but close enough.

All he did was say, “Shaylyn???” and everyone erupted in laughter after being blinded by the bauble in his hand.

I stormed off, but had the worst time hiding the giant smirk cracking my pouting face.

A couple of years later, he got it right, with a much classier and heartfelt attempt-