New Jersey, land of the Paramus mall and lawn statuettes and Roy Rogers. Turnpike rest stops, still your East Coast source for holsters of fries. I only got lost once on the way to the nearest Target, and escaped the Tappan Zee bridge, but it was close. Well played, Governess, well played.
The whole shebang was bonkers fun, kind of a given. The mother-o'-the-bride is my new favorite person on the face of the planet ("What do the kids call it these days???? GRASS? WEED? What?" "Ma, it is my wedding day. Please.") The wedding itself was executed to perfection, mostly - the exception being one comical ceremonial misstep made by the bride which she won't live down ever; or at least not for the next few years before our minds melt away into old age forgetfulness. The BM dresses made everyone look like a size 4 (score!) and there was more food than I have EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE, and I have been to Long Island nuptials, so I know food. I tried to tally it all up (crepe station/sushi station/food-with-crab station/wok station/salad station/cheese station/vodka-shot-ice-sculpture-luge station/full-headed roast pig station/martini table/passed fried stuff/and then - oh PS, DINNER) to no avail the next morning. After all that, attendees are lucky I didn't pull a Hulk and physically roar right out of my tafetta top in an appetizer explosion during the mandatory Bridesmaid Freaking of the Groom.
- Part of the meal was spent replacing the wrapped crystal wedding favor with a dinner roll, and then re-wrapping it, and then the elaborate dance of making sure K. received it. She was the lucky recipient of the Bridal Bread! She should have won a prize for that or something. Well, besides the bread.
- We only broke two glasses all night. Woot! The fact that the videographer had to help clean up one mess of gin did make me a little worried, but I think it worked out in the end. Here's to hoping that the bride and groom don't sit down to view this movie thing and get treated to 20 minutes of marble floor as they use the camera light to search for glass shards. I'm pretty sure the red light on his camera was off.
- Afterwards at the bar, I got in a fake fist fight with T. (why are my favorite photos from all my friend's weddings the ones where people are fake punching each other?) after he told a terribly unfunny joke about Ohio State; and everyone tried to play pool before farts suffocated us right out of the room.
All in all, a terribly successful wedding number 364. Upcoming: Thanksgiving weekend, then a bye weekend, and then it's off to another one of these things. Even thought I'm blood kin to the next bride, ain't no one make a prettier gal in white than the Jersey Princess.
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I've covered the basics. One more quick thing:
My paired wedding partner in all this was Todd. Todd.... Todd likes to have a good time. For instance, reports regarding Toddhavior in Las Vegas a few weeks ago:
Just got a random phone call from Kevin and Todd from Vegas. Todd is destroyed and talking about how the hotel gives you some Asian dude for free to hang out with whenever you want, so he and Kevin drank 40 beers with the Asian dude and now they don't know where he is. That's all I have to report.
That above email is really the best description of Toddness. The art of being Todd.
So imagine if you will- the wedding party about to be introduced, walked into a room full of strangers. The blinding photographer's flash and videographer's light in our eyes, hundreds of faces standing and waiting expectantly.
Todd, my escort, took me by the arm, and looked me straight in the eye:
"Listen. You are about to be booed. It is me, it's not you. But you must accept that you are about to be booed loud and hard. YOU MUST POWER THROUGH."
And ladies and gentlemen, he was correct. I now have the distinction of walking into a room of 200 people, and being booed louder than any sporting even you have ever attended. At a wedding. It was kind of awesome.
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Also, we saw Bond last night. Here is my Bond recap:
Daniel Craig has funny ears but a ridiculous body. The end, again.