A white dress, a lacy veil, something old, new, borrowed and blue.



Me? I’ve never been interested in any of that kind of crap.



As a youngin’, when most other girls were envisioning their princess day and the perfect wedding, I was busy playing competitive sports.



I wasn’t forming opinions on whether to go strapless or not. I was too busy fighting the fact that I had to wear a sports bra.



Even though I eventually outgrew that tomboy lifestyle, I’m still not a fan of weddings and especially how commercialized they’ve become.



Weddings are supposed to be a celebration of true commitment and lifelong love, not obsessions with gift registry guns at department stores or unnecessary stress about ridiculous details that society has convinced you to brood over.



If I get married, you can bet that I’ll elope, and a hurkin party will follow after the fact.

However, one of my very best friends from high school, Tate, is on the verge of marrying his beautiful Mama Mia — and I think they’re doing it right.



They’ve pulled together a wonderful destination wedding, and I just bought my tickets.

The Weekly Volcano’s very own Carmen Caravan Jones will be heading to Hawaii in April. The first five days will be spent with my homegirl Jeanne who lives on Waikiki and the last five on Maui for the wedding.



The trip is on the top of my mind right now because I love Tate and Mia, it’s getting me through this cold winter, and it’s such a great incentive to burn even more calories at the gym.



One other thing’s for damn sure — I’ll be providing updates from the islands.



But for now, let’s return your seats to the upright position as we journey back to my adventures on the mainland.



Alooooooooo-HA!

Friday boozy floozy

The day job was full of more demands this week than any one person can handle, so to take the edge off, I decided to tie one on.



Mama Jess just got back from a trip to South America, so right after work, I hooked up with her at Doyle’s to catch all of the details.



After getting the lowdown on her breathtaking experiences in places such as Paraguay and Uruguay and the inherent challenges in languages such as Portuguese, we hustled on down to Matador with The Husky, Kyle, Ariel and Kendall.



Pacific Avenue was teeming with packs of gorgeous people doing the same thing that we were — hopping between Matador, Vin Grotto and Paddy Coyne’s.



After several beers and shots, I hopped into a cab and shimmied into Monsoon Room to end the evening with Natasha and the Swarners. Lovely Larry from Tempest was there, and he looked gorgeous in his turtleneck sweater that I couldn’t stop petting. Chris the bartender’s champagne cocktail officially sealed the deal on my buzz.



Taking cabs around town isn’t always the best thing for me because I figure that I have to make it worth my while by getting after the booze. But, of course, I’ll always be grateful for safety and the cab driver who returned me to the Carmen Castle without a scratch.

Singin’ on Saturday

Based on Natasha’s recommendation, Mr. Sienna and I introduced ourselves to the Longhorn Dueling Ivoryz Saloon in Auburn. We couldn’t help ourselves from busting out the lyrics to Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock” and Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.” Mr. Sienna kept laughing at the perfect pitch I was throwing to songs such as “Lean on Me.” I’ll always be indebted to Catholic school choir, especially when the vocal renderings make Mr. Sienna’s face sparkle. After, we grabbed some crappy late-night pizza and called it a night.



Now, let’s return to our regularly scheduled programming where I’ll be hula dancing in my living room.



I’m Carmen, your new chameleon.  Drop me your favorite parties here.