Georgia positioned herself to ensure a flattering angle of her profile from the camera, then proceeded to interview me with what I was looking for in a wedding dress.
"Tell me how you met An-drew," she started out, leaning forward in a manner which evoked her rapt attention to myself. Her accent elongated the first part of his name, making him sound like an Italian yuppie from the Bronx.
"Well," I hesitated. I didn't really want the entire country to know every detail of our lives, particularly about our first encounter. My mother was all too happy to jump in.
"It was so cute! They met in Hollywood when Katie-Belle ran over his foot in her car!" I could see the camera quickly change direction, zooming in on my mother's face, then rotating to capture my reaction.
I grimaced. "Obviously it was an accident. I was involved in a minor fender-bender...."
"She ran into the back of Kirk Douglas' Escalade...." my mother explained helpfully. I could feel my face starting to burn. Some girls can pull off a graceful blush, but I am not one of them. My face starts to look all blotchy.
"Yes, and I was trying to back my car out of traffic, when Andrew came rushing up to see if everyone was alright. I didn't see him until it was too late. I ran over his foot, breaking a few of his toes. It wasn't too serious. He was in a cast for three weeks."
Georgia's red-painted mouth was in the shape of an "O." Evidently she had to quickly decide which reaction would be best for the TV audience. She went with a sweet sentiment.
"Obviously you were destined to be togetha," she coo-ed, patting my hand. "Now tell me about the venue. Will you be gettin married in Hollywood?"
"Oh heavens no!" my mother chimed in. "We are having the ceremony at the Tuscany Vinyard in San Pedro, California, which has a period-based Italian villa and can accommodate up to eight hot air balloons!"
"Mother!" I protested, but Georgia was too quick for me.
"That sounds amazing!" she cried. "So what kind of a gown are we lookin for?"
"Well, something that has an Italian princess feel to it, with lots of billowy skirts as reference to the balloons. You know, something with a lot of bling!"
"You leave it to me, I have just the right dress for ya!" and Georgia raced off, her eyes glittering with a determined ferocity which was a little frightening.
My nightmare was just about to begin.
"Tell me how you met An-drew," she started out, leaning forward in a manner which evoked her rapt attention to myself. Her accent elongated the first part of his name, making him sound like an Italian yuppie from the Bronx.
"Well," I hesitated. I didn't really want the entire country to know every detail of our lives, particularly about our first encounter. My mother was all too happy to jump in.
"It was so cute! They met in Hollywood when Katie-Belle ran over his foot in her car!" I could see the camera quickly change direction, zooming in on my mother's face, then rotating to capture my reaction.
I grimaced. "Obviously it was an accident. I was involved in a minor fender-bender...."
"She ran into the back of Kirk Douglas' Escalade...." my mother explained helpfully. I could feel my face starting to burn. Some girls can pull off a graceful blush, but I am not one of them. My face starts to look all blotchy.
"Yes, and I was trying to back my car out of traffic, when Andrew came rushing up to see if everyone was alright. I didn't see him until it was too late. I ran over his foot, breaking a few of his toes. It wasn't too serious. He was in a cast for three weeks."
Georgia's red-painted mouth was in the shape of an "O." Evidently she had to quickly decide which reaction would be best for the TV audience. She went with a sweet sentiment.
"Obviously you were destined to be togetha," she coo-ed, patting my hand. "Now tell me about the venue. Will you be gettin married in Hollywood?"
"Oh heavens no!" my mother chimed in. "We are having the ceremony at the Tuscany Vinyard in San Pedro, California, which has a period-based Italian villa and can accommodate up to eight hot air balloons!"
"Mother!" I protested, but Georgia was too quick for me.
"That sounds amazing!" she cried. "So what kind of a gown are we lookin for?"
"Well, something that has an Italian princess feel to it, with lots of billowy skirts as reference to the balloons. You know, something with a lot of bling!"
"You leave it to me, I have just the right dress for ya!" and Georgia raced off, her eyes glittering with a determined ferocity which was a little frightening.
My nightmare was just about to begin.
