For the past few days -- ever since I returned from a gloriously indulgent trip to Vegas with some girlie peeps for my Bachelorette Party -- I've been ridiculously moody and stressed out to the point of tears. This morning at work, I broke down when my supervisor shut the door to our office and asked me if something was wrong.

"Well, I... *sob, sniff*... this wedding... *snort, honk*... too much... *sob, sniff, cry*...and I can't find a corset bra that fits right.. *wail*!"

She was a great sport -- encouraging when I needed encouraging, funny when I needed humor, and sincere when I needed sincerity. Finally, my lunch break came, and as I slowly meandered around in the sunshine, I came to a very powerful realization....

This wedding is NOT the boss of me.

I am the boss of IT, damn it. And I am no longer going to let it control my spirits like it has the past couple days. Honestly, I can't believe I let it get this bad. It's embarrassing.

I need to take a lesson from David Sedaris' brother and get me a "Fuck-It Bucket."

"...a plastic pail filled with jawbreakers and bite-size candy bars. 'When shit brings you down, just say 'fuck it,' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy.'"

I'm marrying the man of my dreams, and no matter how many things may go wrong on the big day, I'm still going to be his Mrs. when all is said and done. Even if I did nothing else from now on -- not one measley thing -- the wedding would still be great. Do you hear me, Moodiness? That's right, I'm talkin' to you.

"Bitch, I'm here to tell you that it's going to be all right. We'll get through this shit, motherfucker, just you wait."