Can I get a job number for this?

Pretty much every job out there requires a person to use some sort of method to track his/her hours. Whether it's a card you punch or hours you log in, there's some type of system. You work. You have hours. You get paid.

My question is, who do I bill my personal hours to?

Meaning, the hours spent outside of work. My hours. Those precious minutes that I only have so many of on a two-day weekend. Hours that shouldn't be jacked with. But for some reason, they are. Being jacked with, that is.

For instance, I had a manicure appointment this past weekend at a day spa (no, I'm not a snob. I just like getting pampered from time to time -- sue me). Anyway, something else came up that required my time so I had to call and cancel. No biggie right? Not exactly. The day spa has a 24 hour cancellation/re-scheduling policy. I obviously didn't have that luxury of time so to avoid a charge I had to resort to lying. HOW-EV-ER, the times that I have made it to my appointments at said day spa (very punctually, mind you) I've had to wait a good 10 minutes or so before my actual services started. But do I get to bill the spa for wasting 15 minutes of my time because they're understaffed/overbooked/whatever? Nooooooo.

Same goes for airlines. How many freakin' times have flights been delayed? I mean, fine. I'll give the whole "bad weather" scenario a break. Acts of God can't be helped other than by...God. BUT! Mechanical issues, ground crew's late, pilot's drunk and needs to sober up -- these things ARE NOT. MY. FAULT. Yet they still knock my ass off a flight if I show up nine minutes prior to departure vs. the cut off time of 10 minutes. I was stuck in traffic. I couldn't leave work early. My dog died. Do these bastards care? Hell no. After all, it's NOT. THEIR. FAULT. But my all time favorite bitch is the change fee. That piece of shit "$100 change fee plus difference of fare" asshole FEE. That one gets me. Un-freakin-believable.

Y'know what? I'm gonna start charging my own damn change fee. But my charges will be much more fair. Cancelled movie plans? $5. Can't make it to dinner? $20. Bailed on an out of town trip? $50. Mind you, I probably won't have any friends left (or a fiance for that matter) but it's a matter of principle, right?

Crap. Nevermind.

One honest woman, coming up!

Alright. I know it's been a while. Stop your bitching. :o)

As some of you may know (and some of you may not know), some major news went down about two weeks ago.

I got engaged to my boyfriend of 2 years, 8 months and 19 days.

I am about to be a wife.

Holy crap! I am ecstatic and anxious all at the same time! But before I get into my neurotic personality, let me give you the low down on how all this came about (I'm sure you're dying to know. OK, well, pretend you're dying to know, alright?)

PART I

Picture it. Dallas. 2006. I'm at work on a Thursday evening and receive a text message from my boyfriend. He sounds (reads??) frazzled; major shit went down at work. He was planning on getting in that night to spend the weekend with me but alas, has to push his arrival date to Friday night. I'm totally bummed because as some of you may know, long distance relationships SUCK. You cherish every precious hour you have with your man. So of course I'm upset and proceed to be in a foul mood for the rest of the evening. I head home, sulking, and am greeted by my brother, his girlfriend and my best friend from L.A. (she came to visit me -- yeah, she knew all along what was in store for the Deepsters). They try to cheer me up by offering to take me out to dinner; a little "change of scenery" as you will. So, after much arm twisting (I can be a tad bit difficult at times if the mood's not vibing), I get in the car and head for downtown Dallas.

My brother's big idea was to have us eat dinner at the restaurant, Antari's, in Reunion Tower (if you've ever seen the Dallas skyline, it's the only tower with a giant golf ball looking thing on top of it). The restaurant actually revolves and you get a 360º view of the not-so-happening downtown area. We get to the restaurant (I'm still sulking like a little shit) and order some appetizers. As we're finishing up our shrimp cocktail, a mysterious bottle of champagne arrives at our table from a "gentleman". Now, being a pretty intelligent person, I automatically suspect the boyfriend to be the mastermind. I scan everyone's faces and they look as confused as I'm feeling. WTF?? So I dig a little deeper and the waiter mentions that the "gentleman" wants to meet us. Us?? Not making any sense here. Why would the boyfriend want to meet ALL of us (the look of confusion is still tatooed to my parties' faces)? So, we get up and start walking. Since we're in a giant ball, you have to walk in a curved line rather than just straight. We start rounding the corner and (surprise surprise!) it's the boyfriend.

Yippee!!

So of course I run over, throw my arms around him and think this is the best surprise ever!

This is where the plot thickens.

We eat dinner and he suggests ordering some dessert. Well, I'm totally not feeling the dessert thing but to be easy, I agree on some cheesecake. He peers over my shoulder and as I follow his gaze, I see the waiter bringing the plate over. OK, cool. Time for cake. The waiter sets the plate down and it's covered with a stainless steel food warmer cover thing. I'm thinking "How odd. Dessert doesn't come cov-" when the cover is lifted off...

...to reveal a plate filled not with cheesecake...

...but with beautiful red rose petals. HOLY CRAP!! In the center is one, large red rose and tucked inside it is the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. My reaction?

"Shut UP!!"

Yeah. How freakin' romantic of me. But I did get a laugh from my entire crew and the staff who was standing right behind me. I was floored. Totally. I mean, I thought all along that I would be able to tell when the big day was coming, but this really took me by surprise. We spent the next hour or so sipping on champagne, eating cheesecake (hell yeah I wanted some cake!) and passing my hand around from person to person.

It was awesome.

The ring!!
Yummy! Oh, and I've washed/cut/colored my hair since then (in case you were wondering)

PART II

Now for the Indian segment. In the Punjabi culture, we have what is known as an "engagement ceremony." This binds both families in an agreement: we want your daughter/we want your son. We do a little prayer, money (yes, MONEY) is given to both the bride-to-be and the groom-to-be while their mouths are stuffed with Indian sweets (I swear, I almost puked at one point) and gifts are exchanged (mostly Indian clothes and a fruit basket or two). It's colorful, heartfelt and at the end of it all, we get to fill our bellies with Indian food. Yum!

Getting Indianized (I seriously need to clean my mirror)
Good little Indian (that's my mama behind me!)

So there you have it, folks. I'm spoken for. Betrothed. A one man woman.

And y'know what? I'm A-OK with that!