Bride-Zilla's Wedding

Well, the wedding is over. And oh, what a night. I had way (WAY) too much to drink, but didn't wake up with a hangover. Quite possibly because I'm still drunk, but whatever. After I woke up this morning, I drank half of a bottle of Juicy Juice and ate 3 pieces of bacon. Breakfast of champions.

Where to begin? Let's see… yesterday morning I went to get my hair done. It took 3 stylists to figure out what to do with my hair (and the real red rose that had to go behind the right ear) and 2 stylists to actually make it happen, but the result was amazing. Went home, ate a quick lunch, got dressed and made it to the church on time. The bride wanted us at the church at 2 and the wedding was supposed to start at 2:30. However, she didn't show up until almost 3 (they're on Hispanic time ). The ceremony was beautiful, everything went smoothly and no one said the wrong name.

On to the reception! Joe met me there with two double A batteries. (Okay, the batteries were for my camera, but I thought it sounded funnier to say it like that.) Let me just preface the rest of my story by saying that Joe was an awesome wedding date. He kept me very well entertained, got me drinks all night, made me dance, and forced me to eat some fabulous dessert with bananas and rum and ice cream. Mmmmm…. sinful…

I didn't get a chance to eat breakfast yesterday morning, so my only meal was half of a turkey sandwich. And I started drinking as soon as I got to the reception. Needless to say, it didn't take long before I was completely trashed. I started with a vodka tonic, but then discovered that they had Stoli Vanilla… so I switched to Stoli V and ginger ale. I drank that pretty much all night. At one point, I went to refill my drink, and the bride's (hot) cousin was at the bar trying to figure out what kind of martini he wanted. I said, "You definitely want vodka" and he said, "Okay, sounds good." Then he ordered two of them and gave one to me. It was STRONG. I swore I couldn't finish it. Joe insisted I could. I did.

Highlights of the reception:

• I devised a plan to jump from the balcony and swing across the room on the chandeliers. It would have worked, damnit.
• I also came up with several creative alternative uses for my shawl (parachute, sarong, blanket…)
• When it was time to announce the wedding party, the DJ asked if we wanted any special song played. The bride started to say no, but I jumped in with a suggestion. And so we were introduced to "Hot in Herre" by Nelly. Hell yeah!
• My other big request for the evening was Young MC's "Bust a Move." We were rockin' it old school!
• The bride has a 10 year-old cousin who was macking it with FIVE different women. He came by the table periodically to ask me when we were going to dance. He was going to teach me how to salsa. I thought it was cute until Joe pointed out that he only came to talk to me when my shawl was off and my cleavage was visible. That's one smooth kid. I think Joe wanted to adopt him.
• Which brings me to the strapless ballgown. It looked lovely, but the top had a tendency to slide south when I sat down. I had to keep covering up or re-adjusting to make sure everything stayed family-friendly, if you know what I mean. Joe was no help in this area as he refused to tell me when my cleavage was becoming too prominent.
• One of the groom's nephews (about 11 or 12 years old) tore up the dance floor with a mean running man. Quite impressive.
• The dinner was soooooo good. Rice and beans! Pork! Sadly, it did little to soak up the alcohol.
• Did I mention the bride's hot cousin? Damn. He's 30 and from Puerto Rico, and he was quite the charmer. He was my eye candy for the evening, but unfortunately he was interested in one of the other bridesmaids. Strike one.
• And by the way, the 10 year-old mack daddy never came back to dance with me. Strike two. (Good thing I don't play baseball, cuz strike three was just looming on the horizon...)

I found out that Heather and company were going to be at the Blarney, so we decided to meet up with them after the wedding. She wanted me to come in my dress, but I decided to get changed. I did, however, keep the gold shoes and huge sparkly earrings. And my hair was still done. I must've been quite a sight. For some reason, I thought shots would be a good idea, so Heather and I enjoyed two kamikazes. And I had another Stoli V and ginger ale. Yikes.

We left the bar at around 2 AM (ish) and I opted not to join the others for pizza at Lorenzo's… but in yet another moment of stupidity (I had a lot of those last night), I decided to share someone's cigarette. I only do that when I'm extremely drunk. (Or when Tim McCabe insists that I smoke with him, because somehow he's under the mistaken impression that I smoke. This has happened on more than one occasion.) So Joe and I headed back to the car where we smoked another cigarette and I killed the mini bottle of wine that we got as a wedding favor. Got home at 4 AM, went straight to bed, and woke up at 9 AM.

All in all, a fabulous evening. It turned out way better than I thought it would.

Post-script: I had about three glasses of water while I was writing this. I'm quite dehydrated. And my throat feels scratchy from smoking. Damnit. I need some Gatorade.

Post-post-script: I haven't brushed my hair yet. I took out all the bobby pins last night in the car (some of them are probably still in the car... sorry, Joe!), and I put it in a very messy ponytail before I went to sleep. It's all stiff from hairspray and whatever else they used to make it look good. I'll have to go wash it soon. In fact, a shower would be a capital idea, since I can practically smell the alcohol coming out of my pores.

Post-post-post-script: I forgot about a hilarious conversation from the reception. It's too good not to share:

Little Mack Daddy (my new 10 year-old boyfriend) came over to our table to chat. He put his arms around me and told me how pretty my earrings were. Then he looked at Joe suspiciously and said, "Is he your assistant?"

"Yup," I said. "You could call him that."

Mack Daddy narrowed his eyes and gave me a sly look. "Is he your HUSBAND?" he asked, in that sing-songy way that 10 year-olds get when they talk about "icky" things like marriage.

I couldn't even hold in the laughter. "Noooo," I replied. "He's not that lucky."

"Good," said Mack Daddy, satisfied that he would have me all to himself.

I'm still laughing about that one...