Monday, April 04, 2005

Every wedding I have attended seems special. Here’s why:

1). Uncle F. and Aunt J.:I was six. I had to be told not to eat the rice. I ate jello with fruit cocktail at the reception.

2). J. and the sex maniac: The let the sex maniac’s mother out of the insane asylum to attend. My brother was an usher and wore a tuxedo for the first and only time. No one explained to him you could loosen the cumberbund. The bridesmaid he escorted to the altar was pregnant and promptly fainted in the sweltering July heat. My brother began to sway back and forth, his face turning scarlet. I heard my father mutter “Jesus Christ!” moments before my brother threw his arms in the air, groaned, and rolled backward over the piano into the potted plants. My father then said, “God dammit!” as the church ladies rushed up and dragged him away. I didn’t want to shake the insane woman’s hand. She had a full beard.

3). Sister E. and J.: She didn’t want me or my brother in the wedding pictures. I wore a brown cordoroy suit and thought I was well dressed.

4). M. and what’s-her-name: his 90-year-old man was the best man. That was pretty cool.

5). O. and J.: I cried buckets and buckets. I caught the garter. They made me put it on the girl who caught the bouquet. She didn’t want me to touch her, afraid it would bother her boyfriend. I said, “It’s okay, I’m gay.” She cried out loudly, “You’re GAY?!” and really didn’t want me to touch her then. They wanted me to repeat the garter placement while wearing a blindfold. When I did so I discovered they had switched her out and replaced her with her boyfriend. Everyone laughed as I slid that thing as far up his super furry legs as I could. Afterwards my boyfriend and I went up to our hotel room and had a hyge screaming fight.

6). M. and J.: I was asked to take the flowers and extra wine up to their suite after the reception so they could take them back to Arizona. While I was at IKEA in San Diego, J.’s white trash relatives got into the room and stole the flowers and drank all the wine.

7). M. and M.: At the wedding I told M.’s born-again mother that M.’s dress was beautiful. Mrs. C. then told me, “It should be, God picked it out.” God also picked the caterer out. Mrs. C., however, ironed my shirt. She used to call me "the pervert" but decided I was actually a nice person, although doomed to hellfire.

8). S. and D.: I introduced the Ex’s sister to my next-door neighbor at a “Let’s get S. laid party”. It worked. They got married, I was the best man. I bought their cake for them. It was a beautiful sheet cake, lots of purple irises, but one of her co-workers had made her a traditional pedestal cake. Mine tasted better. The co-worker glared at me the entire time.

9). R. and L.: I also bought the cake. The frosting tasted weird, but it was very pretty. It apparently had fertility-inducing qualities. Little R. is very cute.

Inspired by Ryan. What’s your best wedding story?

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