No second chances at a first impression!

A first impression is everything right? So what happens when the first time you meet your potential, future parent-in-laws they have to send you home with a "puke bucket." Yes, this seriously is how I first "wow'd," and tastefully impressed my hubby's parents. In my defense let me explain the circumstances. It's the summer of my junior year in college. My then boyfriend invites me back to his sleepy, (sleepy is maybe putting it delicately) little, two-horse-town for a high school friend's wedding AND meet the rents. Sure, sure, I'm good at parentals and they seem to typically somehow find me charming. We make a great roadie mix cd with all our pirated music, courtesy of Napster, and hit the highway. Upon arrival I love them and I am pretty sure they are reciprocating the vibe. We gussy ourselves up and "scoot" on over to the Catholic church for the sweaty, exchange of summer wedding vows. Amen. I say "scoot" because we seriously both rode my hubby's dad's moped. I of course with a skirt and high heels in check (it wasn't until later in the evening that I noticed my half-shaved down wooden heels from dragging them on the pavement-I am serious-you can't make this stuff up). Ok sweet, formalities are complete and it's only 3pm. Reception starts at 5 at the ever swanky local VFW (the viff-waaa as I like to call em). Neeeeeee-neeen-neeeen-neen, we reve up the moped and head over with the rest of the heavy weight drinking crowd to pre-party before the dinner and dance. Make no mistake I grew up in So. Dak. and I can toss em back like no one's biz, but a 3pm start on an empty tummy will get anyone bom-blasted in a hurry. 5 pm dinner starts (fried chicken and all the fixins buffet style if memory serves) but by now I am out of the mood and besides don't want to risk loosing the buzz. I'll take my dinner in a plastic keg cup, icy cold, no foam. 6pm-ish to 12am-ish I rock that small town dance floor like a crazy woman. 12:03am (yes a 3 minute drive from the viff-waaa to the ranch) I stagger to bed, fight off the bed spins and fall into an alcohol induced coma. 8am the alarm goes off b/c we gotta get back so I can work at 12noon (in the hot sun, all day, millions of screaming kids, and me responsible for making sure no one drowns) and I contemplate suicide (half kidding). My brain is rattling loose in my skull and my stomach has a case of the shivers. The chief (hubby's dad) gleefully hollers, "how do you like your eggs kids?" I throw up a little in my mouth. "I can't," I tell my then boyfriend, "I don't know what you are gonna tell em, but I can't and we gotta go!" I wonder if he (hubby) knew it would be the first of many b cup bail outs?!? In attempt to make an already long blog post short... Joanie (best mother in law ever) sent me home with a hug and an empty ice cream bucket. I thought the only way this will ever work if we estrange ourselves from your entire family and never speak of this again. Little did I know Joanie said, "ahhh, we knew after that she was gonna fit right in."

Fit a stop by http://www.34bcup.blogspot.com/ in your schedule tomorrow-you won't regret it.