Hubristicalifragile
February 5th, 2002The final post office visit.
The final signatures.
The final kind words.
The final day.
The final wait. o
Tags: dooce®, heather, heather proposed to me in the comments
The final post office visit.
The final signatures.
The final kind words.
The final day.
The final wait. o
Tags: dooce®, heather, heather proposed to me in the comments
Jon, will you marry me? (I’m on my proverbial knees)
Yes!
People, don’t be fucking with me. Because listen: I was just about to go the gym but decided instead, god knows why, to look at this certain secret discussion board that only certain secret people know about, I think because I don’t really want to go to the gym and am hoping to waste enough time doing crap like this so I don’t have to go. So while I was there at that certain secret discussion board, I noticed the link to this site, but with Jon’s name spelled John (Jon: I don’t know you, but unlike some people, I know how to spell your name), and so I clicked on the link and came here, speaking loosely, and saw what has to be either the most ironic or most romantic thing I’ve ever seen, if not both at once.
So listen people, you aren’t fucking with me, are you? Because if you are, it’s not nice.
Otherwise (and this is meant sincerely) congratulations! I saw those nice pictures from you know where and thought in my sappy way that who knows.
this is like one day at cedar’s of lebanon…
Michael, not even his boss knows how to spell his name, but she’s clinically insane. Other people have no excuse. I know I wasn’t fucking around, and from what I can tell, Jon wasn’t fucking around when he accepted, so you’re actually witnessing the real thing (only it happened kinda sorta once before one night in the middle of Will and Grace when Woody Harrelson’s guest character proposed to Grace, and I was loopy drunk on Maker’s Mark and, well, asked Jon to be the father of my children, but we haven’t really talked about that episode much). Thing is, my mom doesn’t know yet, so you can’t tell her. She’ll totally poop her pants. I can’t wait to tell her myself. I’ve already decided that we’re going to register at K-Mart. I love you, Jon.
This is love. And yeah, we’re serious.
You people are totally fucking insane and I love you both. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never met either of you, if you don’t invite me to the wedding, there’s going to be hell to pay. Heather, I have your mother on the phone right now. She’s asking if I know what Depends are, so I guess you were right. (Mrs. Heather’s Mother, shush, I’m trying to write something.) Anyway, Heather, your betrothed’s name is Jon not John; that’s his name. I don’t care who get’s it wrong, it’s still not right. I don’t care even if Jon doesn’t care: a person’s name is a person’s name. Jon, you tell her.
Anyway, whatever, it makes no difference to me. The only reason I came back was just to say that I didn’t go to gym and now it’s closed.
What, 30 seconds of single life just too much for you? Well good. Now the two’ve you can get down to the lord’s good business of squirting forth a bouncing bounty of juicly little bloobs.
(I’ll wait for a formal announcement before I gush.)
(Who am I kidding — I’m gushing already. Woo-hoo!)
Bloobs.
Awesome.
Rock on, you two.
I’m touched more now than I was when you got your iBook. I’m a sappy motherfucker. Mazel Tov.
Well, now that we’ve talked in person, I can write on here and wish you both a big congratulations. Just promise me that the wedding a) will not be in Farmington, b) will have an open bar, and c) will not find me kissing certain to-be-betrothed’s mothers on the lips.
love, porkchop.
OK, goddammit, I fixed the spelling of his name, you happy now? Consider it an early wedding present.
when, when, when?
I REPEAT: MY MOM DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT THIS YET. So we can’t tell you when (but we do, indeed, know when). Once we tell my mom, then we can tell y’all.
The moms will be told this evening. Followed by about 7 martinis. Heather, I love you.
dude, this is so old news…i found out last night watching inside edition.
Congrats yucksters.
So what is that like a summer term and
fall semester… long by BYU standards
seriously though, I am happy for ya’ll
Congrats, Heather and Jon. Even though I haven’t read either of your sites longer than two weeks — I’m actually delighted to see this occasion transpire.
I hope you two have a wonderful life together. and your future 2.3 bloobs. Hell, I wonder what two bloobs and a head would look like. Send me pictures, will ya?
so i recently sent my bf an IM containing some sort of “dooce and blarg are the cutest couple online” sentiment. and now you just got cuter *and* sweeter. i’m pretty sure i’m going to have to brush my teeth twice to avoid cavities and jealous rage…it seeps from one’s gums, you know.
(yes, for some reason everytime i talk about this site i call you blarg. that’s right, as if you are blargomat.com but for the record, i know it’s blurb(omat) and maybe i should have referenced my little intentional misnomer earlier but let’s just chalk it up to being part of my charm. and um, again…congrats.)
Ooh, this gives me a special warm squishy feeling inside. And that’s a good thing. Congratulations!
Oh my God! Did this just happen? Holy — congratulations from a total stranger!
o my golly!! I don’t know who the heck you are but I think I’m goona cry!!! congratulations!!!
I hope engaged/married life doesn’t stifle the tirades on either of your weblogs. What am I thinking?!? I’m gonna sit back and watch the real bitching begin.
Heather, I’ve been reading your site for a couple of weeks and just love your style. There are very few people who can write as well as you do. Jon, I’ve just found your site through her link to this. Anyone who thinks Will Wheaton is a whore can’t be bad. I am looking forward to exploring further. Congratulations to you both. And if it’s a publicity stunt, then, hell, congratulations for that. You want to stay in my home? I invitate you.