You can read my blog, but please do it quietly

I think you'll agree that this is a flattering portrait (that's my friend Kathy on the left). I thought Dave had already taken the photo and I was saying,
"Did you get my boobs in that shot?"
Just making my mother proud every chance I get, you know how it goes.

I'm going to refer to my friends by name in this post because it's too confusing to do otherwise. They are welcome to sue me. However, they all know that I just bought a furnace on Friday and therefore . . . what's that old saying about blood and a rock?

The wedding was a lot of fun as was the reception. P could've come but didn't want to expend the effort to find a sitter. My friend Kim agreed to be my date, though (I also spent the night at her house, as I live about 120 miles from the wedding location). A bunch of our friends from the rescue were there. Apparently the bride was expecting some questionable behavior from our group, because she sat us at two tables that were about as far from the head table as you could get without actually being in the ladies room.

So anyway, I'm a wee bit hungover. Just a smidge. Becky and Alex had an open bar, God love them. I think it's possible that between drinks and food I may have consumed more than I spent on the wedding gifts from the Pottery Barn. I should probably send them a check. Becky is a vegetarian and Alex is a vegan, so for once I got decent food at a wedding (Wild Mushroom Ravioli, in case you were curious). Normally when I go to a wedding I cobble together a meal out of powdered mashed potatoes and a starchy dinner roll. Oh, and I drank copious amounts of Chardonnay. Typically I drink the sweeter German wines like Riesling or Piesporter, but an open bar is an open bar and winos can't be choosers, as the saying goes. Right before we were planning to leave, something possessed me to order a Bay Breeze (which used to be my favorite drink but a lot of bartenders confuse it with a Sea Breeze, which is not my favorite drink). Shortly thereafter, my date really wanted to leave, which was fine. If I had stayed any later, I'm sure I'd still be in bed right now. Or at least pressing my forehead against the cold tile and begging for my life.

The reception left me with a thought to ponder: for those people who know how to do the Electric Slide, do they actually practice this thing? Or do they just pull it out for weddings? (It seems to be mandatory to play this song at every wedding - I also bet my friend Carl ten bucks that the deejay would play another wedding staple, Bad Bad Leroy Brown, but it never played.) The last dance I learned how to do was The Virginia Reel, which was taught during gym class when I was in the fourth grade. Seriously, nothing after that. No Macarena, no Electric Slide, and definitely no Running Man. I just wonder how people keep their Electic Slide skills sharp. And more importantly . . . why???????

The happy couple

Kathy and Jen. Jen would later drink a bottle of Miller Lite by wedging it in her bosom. Sadly, my camera batteries died before that historic event.

Dave and Carl (and Carl's tie). Carl tried requesting some Clash from the deejay, but no dice. We were testing out the theory that the music selection was really "all request."

Kate and George, before George's seventh Amaretto kicked in.

George, Kathy, and Jen (after George's Amaretto kicked in).

Dave and Lynn, looking downright respectable. Dave and Lynn live in an eclectically decorated older house with a rather steep stairway leading to the second floor. You feel like you are climbing a ladder. Anyway, the first time my friend Brenda and I were at their house, we somehow convinced ourselves that Dave and Lynn had an S&M room up there. They've gone to great lengths to deny it, but still . . .

Suzy, who is often mean to me but I let her be my friend anyway.
I must admit that I do covet her hair.

Tammy, Kate, and Kim. Tammy just broke her ankle playing hockey (she is Canadian, so she is legally required to play the sport). Suzy, her other half, told her that she could either drink or take her Vicodin at the reception, but not both. Some people just suck the fun out of everything!

Kate and Me. At this point I had given up on keeping my bra from showing.

So there you have it: my weekend. I have to thank my date, Kim, for driving me around. We had about three hours to kill between the ceremony and the reception, so we went shopping. I bought some cute stuff for the kid, including a dragon costume for Halloween. My feet started to hurt after a while (I wore uncomfortable high heels because I believe in suffering for beauty), and Kim would not carry me to the car. Sure, I weigh more than she does but really, what kind of friend would be so bitchy like that? I also requested pancakes for breakfast and didn't get any. I meant to put that on the comment card when I checked out this morning. You get what you pay for these days, know what I mean? I did get to sleep with one of her Boxers last night. But Bosco abandoned me in the wee hours - I guess sleeping with a drunken houseguest wasn't as fun as he had hoped it would be.

I did miss the kid while I was gone. It was kinda nice hanging out with grown-ups, though . . . I didn't have to remind my friends not to rub food in their hair or anything. And they all went pee-pee in the potty, as far as I know. None of them screamed at dinner or demanded Backyardigans fruit snacks. And I didn't have to clean any of them up with a diaper wipe after the meal. Rock on!

To Becky, if you're reading this: thank you so much for inviting me to your wedding. I hope you and Alex have a wonderful honeymoon. I know you want to be parents and I, for one, am willing to help you get some practice in childrearing. I'll drop off the practice as soon as you say the word.


Popular posts from this blog

On Being Patriotic

14 Weeks

Three cheers for headgear!