Saw my brother-in-law’s phone today. Just sitting there on the counter. All innocent-like. Just beggin for some selfies, obv.
Conifer got married last weekend. Hard to believe the day finally came. I already run pretty warm on a regular basis, and Newfoundland was in the middle of some of the hottest, stickiest, humid weather we’ve had in years. I thought I was going to melt. Pretty sure I was so sweaty that if my hips weren’t wider than my waist, my dress would’ve just slid right off in a puddle. How she wore a wedding dress and still looked as cool as a cucumber, I will never understand.
(Her photographer was awesome, she’s put up some of her shots on Facebook and they’re pretty darn amazing)
It was a great day, though, and I couldn’t be happier with the man she married. I know that a lot of women feel that their sisters’ or friends’ significant others don’t always treat them right, and that they could do better. I can’t say that Conifer’s husband has ever given me reason to think that. He has been, to the best of my knowledge, always good to her. And me. Like the time he held my hair back downtown while I threw my guts up after drinking too much during my birthday. Twice. And I don’t remember much else about that evening. A guy who’s willing to do that for your best friend? I think he’s a keeper.
I remember the day she called me, a few days after high school graduation, to tell me that,
"Oh my God, Miranda, I hooked up with a guy at our grad party! I can’t believe I did that."
We grew up in different towns, so I hadn’t been in attendance. I couldn’t believe this news either. Conifer?! Hook up with someone at a party?!
"Holy shit Conifer! How’d that happen?"
"I dunno! We just… we just kissed!"
"Hold up. You kissed? Did you do anything else?"
"Conifer, I have no idea what your definition of hooking up is, but mine goes beyond kissing.”
"Oh. Well we just kissed. I don’t know if anything else will happen."
I think it is safe to assume they have since hooked up (MY definition). I mean, I had only been gone from the reception for an hour maybe when she texted me:
"Hey I know it’s late but I just wanted to say thank you for everything today! … I’m so glad you were there … I wouldn’t have wanted to it without you … love you … Mrs. New-Married-Name."
"I love you too Mrs. New-Married-Name. Now get busy."
"Already done. Hahahahaha."
Girl don’t waste no time.
During Conifer’s cat-themed bachelorette party she got a little… plastered. At one point downtown she turned to me and faceplanted in my boobs. I asked her what she was doing.
"You’re the only one here with any kitties. I need to do it while I still can."
I assume she meant before she was married and no longer had the opportunity to motorboat another woman’s chest? Or she was jealous? Either way, I think it was basically the most endearing thing she’s ever done. And by kitties, yes, she obviously meant my boobs. We, the bridal party, were wearing tanks that said Show Me Your Kitties on the front. Score one for Miranda for being the only one with anything substantial hanging off the front of her torso.
At the reception she’d had one of those guys with the photobooth. I am not ashamed to say I think I spent most of my evening in there. Conifer texted me the next morning to let me know:
My sister BeachyQueen likes to hang out at this bar on campus after work with her boyfriend and other assorted co-workers (they all work on campus). Apparently CBC was taping there the other day and, well, she thought that was super frickin awesome.
And later that evening, SwissSis has a pretty epic case of baby brain.
If ever you are wondering what is going on in Newfoundland, check out VOCM for exclusive, in-depth coverage.
My brother-in-law also likes to torment me during Chicago’s “as per usual” nail-biting-tear-my-hair-out games.
Elimination games are no laughing matter. But apparently my sister is torn between being supportive, and being an absolute and utter TROLL.
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