I would like to start off today’s post by wishing Nicky the Cook and Data K a great big CONGRATULATIONS! They’re on their way to Jamaica right now, so safe travels to you two as well.

What I thought was a successful sleep-in this morning, came crashing down when I remembered that we “fell back” an hour last night. I still managed to get up at 8am. Dammit. I also had one of my reoccurring nightmares about the people with no legs that scuttle across the floor and try to infect you with “the virus”. There is a lot of weird violence in the dream. It actually feels like a movie with its terrifying parts and its comic relief and sexual tension. What’s that? You might get it on with the sexy leader of the all-girls Brazillian biker gang? Nope. Turns out she’s infected and coughs up yellow pus. You’d better lure her into the atrium on top of the building and shoot her in the back of the head.

Enough about my terrible nights sleep, let’s talk about what I did yesterday instead. I got up, ate some eggs, made a post, made a poop, and headed out to hunt down some mustache wax. First, I stopped by the farmer’s market and said howdy to a few friends. I figured if I was going to buy any organic meat, I should get it early. My egg breakfast (and the leftovers from my pork dinner) kicked in by the time I got down there, so I didn’t get anything because nausea said “No!”

I then headed to the beauty supply store to pick up my ‘stache wax. I had three options: black, brown, or neutral. Since my facial hair is not black and since neutral looked the crayon “flesh” color, I got brown. I ended up not wearing it because it made my mustache look like the color of a brown crayon and like it was made from plastic. It was back to heavy applications of Burt’s Bees for the remainder of the day.

That solved, I headed to the Riverfront Pavilion, where the wedding was to be held, to await D-Man. He had called me at 11:30 to ask whether or not his memory or his phone was correct in that he was supposed to pick me up at 12:30. The phone is correct. Noon-thirty rolls around and D calls to be like “Where are you?” and I inform him that I am waiting for him to come get me at the park. Right where we said I’d be the last few hundred times we’ve gone over this scenario. That resolved, D-man picked me up and we headed over to the hotel to meet Nicky the Cook for tux time. He had Adam #2 with him and a platter full of chicken strips from Chick-fil-a. At some point during our lounge around in hotel room whilst eating chicken fingers, a photographer showed up. He was there to keeps us on time and also to get a little behind the scenes action for the scrapbooks. I’m sure he got some comedy gold.

Dressed and groomed up (yuk, yuk) we headed down to take wedding photos. It was relatively painless for us groomsmen. The poor bridesmaid had to stand out in the cold wind in their little dresses while trying not to sink into the soft earth with their heels. After they dismissed the “bridal party” in order to shoot some family shots, D-Man and I booked it back to the hotel to pick Baby Kay’s shoes, which Nicky of course, forgot. Back to the park and it was beer o’clock in the RV. So picture this: the entire bridal party, both the bride’s side and the groom’s, are just sitting around in an RV drinking beer and wine and waiting for this show to start. It felt like we were making a movie and that we were all just waiting to go on set. It was a really great feeling.

Then the wedding started. A preacher said some stuff, they repeated some stuff, people prayed and I substituted the word Batman for God (or lord, or father, or Jesus) in my head, I held my hands correctly, and walked my bridesmaid out on time. Done and done. Married. Let the party commence. We went back to the RV for more booze while we waited for them to transition the chairs from outside for the ceremony to inside for the reception. During this wait, I was informed that I, and the rest of the wedding party, would have to dance. Ugh. My bridesmaid, who I have yet to give a clever nickname to and I decided that we were going to dance a la junior high since we had no desire to dance, let alone with each other (she being married and me being anti-sober dancing). So we sucked it up and danced. There would be plenty of booty dancing that would ensue later which all of us were okay with, it’s just that forced formal slow dance stuff that we had to rebel against.

As the party was winding down, I managed to “steal” a lot of honey and a couple of cupcakes. I also ended up with the garter somehow. I didn’t so much catch it as pick it up off the floor as it skidded over toward a group of quickly scattering men. It was like it was filled with smallpox or something. So let’s recap what all I walked away with from this shindig.

A new pair of Sanuks.

A new tie.

4 tiny jars of honey.

An Italian Cream cupcake.

A red velvet cupcake.

A used garter.

A phone number (for my friend Washington DCC).

I think that’s it. I did steal a couple of chicken salad sandwiches as I was walking out the door, but they were gone by the time I made it to the car. Overall, it was a blast.

Today is a day of lying around. I’ve been up and chatty Cathy for two days now. Time for me to snuggle with the cats. For good measure, this one goes out to Dave:

Enjoy the rest of your weekend. More soon. ~SC