Finally. A year after the proposal. Finally, after three changes in date, time and venue. Finally, after finding a wedding cake that didn’t resemble spiderman. Finally, after managing to locate and fit into a sexy yet firm suitable set of wedding underwear. Finally, we did it. We got hitched!
Of course, in our typical style, anything less than complete and utter chaos, followed by family drama and tradgedy.
I must say, my bridesmaids were stunning and wear sexy gowns. Nice tits, ladies! I couldn’t say it in the church, because well, it was church. But dang, everybody’s boobs looked superb in those dresses!
The boys didn’t look shabby either. Ain’t it funny how a man in a classic black tux can make a girl weak in the knees?
It was actually beautiful, other than the bridesmaids walking to “Pray for the Dead and the Dead will Pray for you”. Long story. I stress here and now, that it was an ooopsie on our part, as we didn’t listen to the concerto in full. We thought, “Oh that’s beautiful” when we listened to it the first time and turned it off with listening to it all the way through. So, two of the bridesmaids are walking to lovely strums of a classic string quartet, when it goes into the death march. Sweet Jesus! I’m back there yelling to Val, “Oh shit! Oh Shit!!!!! Cut it off, cut it off!!”
Which he did, and we went on. It was at this point I had decided I either need an ample amount of Jack Daniels right then and there or a mega dose of Xanax.
Deep breath. The Wedding March is going. Walking with Daddy (who by the way was on his best behavior and didn’t cause any shit whatsoever). I got up there to my man looking dapper and all of his groomsmen.
Ok, so here we go. Daddy gave me away and there I stood looking into the eyes of the man I was about to marry. I never in my life imagined that I would have been nervous. But I was. And I was about to cry. We stood with everyone looking on… ohhhhh, the sweet, happy couple gazing at one another as “At Last” by Etta James played on.
Who would have ever thunk it? My friggin shoes started to hurt like hell and I was about to cry again. We manage to exchange vows with me only tripping once over my tongue and having to start over. Queue the second song, “If You Ever Have Forever In Mind.” By this time, the butterflies have turned to dragons and I’m so nervous that I can feel myself turning red as a chipotle pepper getting over-ripe in the sun. I look at the pastor and say, “Is there anyway we can get him to turn this song off??”
“You really want the song cut?” He asked, looking at me like I’m crazy and then to Tony for reassurance that my head wasn’t going to spin 360 like something from the Exorcist.
“Yah, and the next one too. My feet are killing me and I’m turning red.”
“You got it.” He said.
He got Val’s attention. The music was cut. Moving right along.
We are now husband and wife. He grabbed my hand. He pulled me close and laid the nicest kiss on me. Dang. We’re in church here, pal, and you’re really turning me on.
The only mishap was Lil T coming up to us mid-vows and yelling “Look Nana! Motorcycle.” When he figured out everybody was lauging at him and saying, “Oh how cute.”, he took off.
So, not a single mishap that was YouTube worthy happened, dammit! I was just waiting for somebody to do something stupid.
We got it done! The ceremony itself was beautiful. Nobody burst into flames from getting too close to the unity candle, although Julie was standing pretty close and she has that sexy long hair. Nobody slid and fell off the stage, passed out or puked…
I was tickled as pink as pink gets to see so many people showing so much love by being there to see this circus. But as hectic as wedding days seem to get, I didn’t get a chance to sit and visit as I was being pulled in fourteen directions at once. Not complaining, just the way it is.
We were in the midst of finding the photographer to make pictures after the ceremony, when we found out that the photographer had, in fact, left. He had said to somebody, can’t remember who at this point, that he had plenty of pictures.
Um. What?!?! I believe I’ll be the one to tell you when you’ve got enough damn pictures and when you can sit down and have cake, asshat! But, I didn’t get the chance. He was gone. Must have needed a beer or a shot of tequila or something. Whatever. It’s my fault for putting my trust in my dear father’s friend to do anything remotely important.
That’s when SUPERMAN appeared! He was like an angel sent to save my day! I bet you’re wondering who by now, eh?
Well, it’s our own Mark Steel! I was about to cry and there he was, yanking the camera out of the bag, snapping pictures of the wedding party, the reception, the friends, the family. My friggin hero, I shit ya not!
Ok, so what else. The reception was gorgeous! Well, the cake started to melt and the topper kept falling off because Robyn is hot as hell and she walked by it.
I pitched the bouquet, and Robyn snatched it up. As if she needs it (wink). She’s next anyway. And then Curtis (Robyn’s man) yoinked the garter! So, if it wasn’t already happening, it’s bound to happen now!
We ate cake…
drank wedding punch…
Posed, posed, posed… pitched the bouquet…
flipped the garter…
…and decided it was time to cruise on outta there.
We proceeded to the truck to find it tastefully decorated with multiple condoms and window chalk.
It was then that the family drama ensued. Amanda (my brat) broke asshat on Amy (his brat), and they commenced in a huge argument which culmunated in Amanda throwing her shoes and running into the woods and Amy peeling out of the church parking lot like her ass was nothing less than on fire.
For hell’s sake. Please just friggin’ shoot me now! I’ve waited all of my life for this here and day all these people want to piss all over it!
Anyway. Mark, Becky, Olga and Holly got me some good pix, so regardless of the drunk monkey camera guy, I got my memories.
You know, for the past decade, I kept thinking to myself “Damn. Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier every year. I thought it was only in my head because I am simply annoyed by how commercial Christmas has become.
