(And, um, thanks for pretending that this is different from any other day.)
As most of you know, B and I made our way to a destination wedding this weekend. The desination being Bumfuck, Virgina.
(I keed, I keed. It was in Lexington, at Washington & Lee University, and I was actually quite enamored with the town- it reminded me of a smaller Chapel Hill. Positively quaint, in a word or two.)
So, yeah, once we got there, it was delightful.
Catch that? Em-fah-sis on "ONCE WE GOT THERE."
Our plan looked good on paper. B is a groomsman, and needs to be at rehearsal at 5pm. We take half days and leave at noon, meet at Reagan to pick up the rental car, and hopefully beat the weekend traffic out of the city.
Easy peasy puddin pie, right?
Yeah.
Not so much.At approximately 11:45, my office blows up with requests. Requests that I cannot put off til Monday because it just so happens that I work at a Very Important Place (thank you, thank you), and I am still relatively new and in the "trying to prove myself" phase. Read: I am a chump.
Meanwhile, my cell phone is ringing off the hook as B discovers that A) it is taking him forever to get through the car rental place line so I should just metro out to Ballston and meet him there, B) the car rental he non-refundably purchased through Priceline will now not give him a car without an airline ticket, C) No, really, they actually won't, so I need to find a car rental nearby and make it happen (keep in mind I haven't driven a car in two years and don't have insurance of any kind), D) Okay, he found a different service who will give him a car, so back to the metro to Ballston plan. (Did your head just
asplode??? Cause MINE DID.)
And the whole time, my ass is being handed to me at work with request after request... WHILE I'm trying to get out the door with my entirely overpacked and too-heavy suitcase. It's how I do. ("How" being foolish.)
After finally escaping and schlepping myself around town and the metro, we get into our sweet little Hyundai rental. It is after 1 now and we have approximately 3.5 hours to make the alleged 3 hour drive, so we kick the Elantra into high gear... (by the way, an Elantra in high gear = oxymoron).
And promptly spend an hour in bumper to bumper traffic. Not even endless MJ on the radio could make us feel better.
Finally free of the clusterfuck, we haul ass to Lexington, and I plug the address he has written down that is not the hotel into the GPS, assuming it is the site of the rehearsal.
We get there at 4:56...
And realize it is the country club, where the RECEPTION will be held in about three hours.
Thanks to Bernadette, my BBerry (Bernie for short), we find the address for "Lee Chapel" and make it across town in five minutes flat, showing up at 5:01, two steps behind the bride. We are sweaty and smelly in our wrinkled work clothes... but more importantly, we are a whole lotta WIN.
We make it through the rehearsal and dash to the hotel to shower and change before the dinner. B rips open his suitcase to locate one of the TWO brand spankin new white shirts he has brought. He pulls out shirt 1...
To find it covered with shoe polish. Shiny shoes FAIL.
Annoyed but not yet beaten, he digs for shirt 2... at which point, he realizes it requires cufflinks.
Which, of course, he did not bring.
"It's okay," I said. "We'll use the crappy pins that came with it, and just wear your jacket... and, yanno, try not to stab yourself when they're taking pictures. You don't wanna flash an O face that will be in their wedding album forever."
Fresh from a two-second shower, I reach for my $15 yet-super-cute Forever 21 cocktail dress, tug it on, and turn to be zippered.
Halfway up, the zipper jams. The cloth is being eaten by the teeth and there is no Up, no Down, no Passing Go and Collecting $200. This. Shit. Is. STUCK.
I twisted. He yanked. We prayed. I made a sacrifice of our hotel room toiletries to the Goddess of cheap dresses. Nothing doing.
Fifteen minutes later, both of our index fingers were blistered and bloody, and he ripped the goddamn thing off me
[insert skanky hotel sex here, if we'd had time] and I pulled on a Paris Hilton pink J Crew sundress that all the girls at the wedding probably A) own and B) wear to the BEACH, not, yanno, REHEARSAL DINNERS.
Whatevski. Wine- I mean, the blood of Christ (it was a SUPER religious wedding- the Mother of the Bride actually converted me to Quakerism, I think. I'll have to check my pamphlets) fixes all, no?
Nevertheless, as soon as we actually MADE it to the dinner, the rest of the weekend was a blast. Despite the fact that I have never, ever seen so much seersucker/bowties/Lilly dresses in my life, everyone was just freaking delightful and I couldn't have asked for a more fun crowd of complete strangers to hang out with.
The highlight of the actual wedding for me, I have to say, was far and away the best man's speech. The groom's twin brother is the kind of guy you take one look at, and decide that A) He is a CHARACTER, and B) It is my life goal to be that guy's best friend by the end of the night. It may be because I was a little tipsy, but this made me laugh so hard I almost peed a little bit. And, he was kind enough to provide me with a copy of it for your amusement... I only wish you could see him deliver it, but this shall have to do.
Best Man's Toast
Twins have a special bond.
Sometimes we're best friends.
Sometimes we're mortal enemies.
But we are always twins and mostly, best friends.
Let me tell you a story.
When we were eight, our parents shipped us off to summer camp for two weeks. The first night, I was too scared to get out of my sleeping bag and I wound up peeing in my bunk.
I slept in that wet sleeping bag for the next two nights.
Eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore, so I crawled into my brother's sleeping bag with him. He didn't object, and so we wound up sleeping together for the rest of the two weeks.
The thing is, the other kids in the cabin began calling us "homosechuals"...
We didn't know what that meant, so we asked our parents when they picked us up, and they told us...
We were surprised.
Now I've gotten over my fear of the dark, and he has chosen someone else with whom to share his sleeping bag.
To my brother and his bride, I love you both and I wish
you the best that life has to offer.
Beautiful, no? It's okay, I know you're chopping onions right now. Let it out.
The other highlight of my weekend?
Seeing B in a bowtie.
He was so proud he sent me that after he got dressed. Freaking adorbs, no? (FYI, NONE of them knew how to tie one... they all gathered in a hotel room and looked it up on youtube. Not kidding.) Still, the end result was worth it.
Happy freaking Monday, y'all... at least we have Friday off! Look, it's Tuesday already! Magic!
(Btw, ladeez, don't forget to enter my Hello Kitty vibrator giveaway if you haven't yet! Thru 11:59 PM tomorrow.)
