It used to be “The Bride’s Day”, when a little girl raised in traditional heterosexual U.S.A. could draw the people of her universe into her orbit with the gravitational force of a small planet.
Now it’s an F-ing week.
They hire butchers, bakers, and bouquet-makers, and attempt to bend the law of averages to prevent even the ring-bearing dogs from farting. I love weddings, but only when the crowd is liberally fun and relaxed. I don’t need to do body shots off of the wedding party to enjoy myself, I just can’t bear the tension exuded by people who are constantly afraid of the perpetual possibility of imperfection.
When asked to assume the important role of bridesmaid for a childhood friend, I enthusiastically accepted the opportunity to stand up for woman I so adore and admire… Then I received the official agenda…
With a massive schedule of events ranging from a Thursday night bachelorette party to the Sunday post-wedding brunch, I christened it all The Wedding Bonanza.
The bride thought I was being cute… I’m just a lovable smart-ass.
Two days before my flight, I received the e-mail requesting we refrain from raunchy sundries at the bachelorette party and other Wedding Bonanza events.
I immediately informed my office I was taking lunch in town and made a bee line for the porn store.
Airport security had a good day.
After a late bachelorette night at the piano bar, a three-hour bridal luncheon, the rehearsal and three-hour rehearsal dinner, I dragged my carcass to the salon for a mani-pedi. At one point I actually fell asleep in the vibrating pedicure chair… Guess I should have left it set to ‘pulsate’.
I was in by 9A.M. and heading out by 11A.M., only to come face-to-face with the Matron of Honor and her Junior Bridesmaid daughter. The look on the Matron’s face made me want to throw my head back and cackle: “Rode hard and put away wet” has never been so poignantly manifest.
By 2P.M., we were coated in concealer and looking fabulous. Just in time for two hours of posing for the photographer.
I began counting down the minutes until I’d be allowed near the bar.
After eight hours without food and two hours before dinner, I gratefully accepted a vodka tonic and washed it down with a glass of Chardonnay, all of which led me to laugh too loud and experience a twisted crush on the photographer, who began to look more and more like Langly from The Lone Gunmen.
On Sunday, I laughed with a gaggle of the bride’s friends from her college days, swigging Diet Coke and flexing my calves, which were locked into high heel mode from the previous day’s exertions.
Worth it. All worth it… And I’m still munching on those fab sexually-explicit bachelorette candies.
To the bride and groom: Wishing you "Much hap-PENIS"!
