It's a little scary how my post's title yesterday made it into today's family newsflash. I was only quoting Genie!
My cousin, Jonie, our very own Wency Cornejo, is getting married. He's a year younger than me.
His girlfriend is two months on the way to giving me another niece/nephew/possible godchild.
So far, no cousin on my paternal family had a non-shotgun wedding. In today's age, I'm resigned that couples would have sex, but do they also have to conceive as well? Come on. Condoms are available and even flavored. The ads are on primetime (That's why I know)!
*sigh* I'll congratulate them when I see them, but this selfish, childish bratinella in me is a little disappointed. No chance again that I'll be a bridesmaid. Because if they'll have a church wedding at all, the bridesmaids would probably only be three at most (Can't give the impression that either of the two families is happy with the couple's rashness). And that leaves no places to cousins, much less cousins-in-law, only sisters or best girl friends.
The last time I was in a bridal party was thirteen years ago, and I was the chief flower girl, scowling because of my itchy pink gown. My Ate Marivic's grand wedding. Our eldest cousin on my mother's side. And hers wasn't a shotgun wedding.
On a brighter note (not that the above is really bad, that's just me griping), I finished my Haunted Legends entry last night. I mulled on titles when I went to bed. "Fury's Fruit" got me snickering so loud Dad barged in and looked sour.
I only howled more.
A fancy way to spell juicy farts.
My layout is too fluffy and too... heartsy. I'll probably tire of it quickly.
What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.
- J.D Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye