So I wake up Sunday morning and realize that all of the lights are still on in the house, my dog has managed to get into the dogfood bin, has crapped on the carpet, and there are three very large rocks in my front yard that were not there yesterday…..and is my thumb actually broken or just sprained really, really badly?
I guess all of those things are the price that you pay for enjoying one of the best days of your entire life. Seriously, I’ve had some great days because, well, I rule, but I’m going back in the memory bank and outside of my trip to NYC with my brother in 1989 and standing in my bathroom in 1995, staring in the mirror going “okay, she’s out there in my bed, does this mean we’re going to have sex?”……I can’t think of anything that tops Saturday. It literally would not have shocked me in the slightest if one of the founders of our country stepped out of a time machine, walked up to me and said, “Jerry, on behalf of a grateful nation, I now present you with my daughter’s vagina”. It was THAT great of a day. Seriously.
So Saturday couldn’t have happened without Friday, and on Friday we had the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. A fine time was had by all. There was great food, because apparently the groom’s mom is some kind of culinary genius, and plenty to drink….but I knew I had a huge day ahead of me and managed to only have a couple of margaritas before going home to get some beauty sleep. The main reason I bring up Friday is because that is when shit became very real to me. Things started to get very real once I started writing up the ceremony verbiage, but on Friday night when I was up on the roof of the downtown library with the wedding party, I started getting pretty nervous about the whole thing….and then on Saturday night it was like watching yourself in a movie or something, I don’t think I breathed once during the whole ceremony. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself here, I mean I SHOULD discuss my graduation, but I’m telling you….I was a little freaked out. I’ve known Heather for a long, long time. I was good friends with her brother in high school, and she was very close to my brother as well. A lot of people who knew Matt were there, and to honor him and bring him into the ceremony I wore his International Thespian Society pin on my lapel. So there we all were, good friends assembled to celebrate the coolest of cool couples with a good old fashioned drunkfest………and I had just graduated a few hours before, so more about that…..
The one thing about grad school that makes it different from undergrad is that you actually care about the people in your program. At least that’s the way it is in a small department like our organizational development crew. So it was great to see everyone in their robes, and it felt wonderful scoff the undergrads and feel superior to them.
Me, my friend Rene and my parents…….
I know last week I mentioned that the post-ceremony meal wasn’t going to be that big of a deal. Boy, was I wrong. So where does a man who has eaten at some of the finest restaurants in the United States go to celebrate such a huge achievement?
That’s right! Red Lobster, motherfuckers! I’m going to steal a phrase from my old friend Dave Chappelle when he was disussing fried chicken and watermelon onstage……there’s nothing wrong with me man, if you don’t like Red Lobster, then there is something wrong with YOU! That shit is delicious! Popcorn skrimps are fucking awesome!
I obviously can’t eat a whole meal, so here is a little before and after action to show you how much skrimp action I could handle…..
And onto the wedding…….
The weather did not cooperate, so we had to bring the show inside, but in my opinion it really didn’t impact anything, everything went beautifully. Graduation went a little longer than anticipated, so I literally had about thirty minutes to get cleaned up, get my things gathered and put on the wedding duds. My handlers showed up to pick me up, and we had a celebratory taste of some wine that a stalker sent me as a graduation gift. Now, the first thing I did once I woke up yesterday was get my handler on the phone to confirm whether or not I did anything TOO fucked up……and according to him I was just fine, no need for damage control. But then a little while ago I got an email mentioning something about me doing some kind of impromptu drunk serenading……I do not recall that happening, but I don’t think someone would just make that up to mess with me. I did have music and lyrics for ‘Con Te Partiro’ in my possession, so I’m guessing I busted that out when we were all leaving. So anyway, I guess I didn’t do anything TOO stupid…..at least not at the wedding site.
When I arrived, an angel of mercy named Dan handed me a full flask of bourbon. I would end up needing that bourbon because I was pretty nervous. The location for the service went back and forth a couple of times due to the rain stopping and starting, so I had to get re-wired for sound about ten times and figure out how to mute both of the lapel mics so nobody could hear me joking around with the groom as we waited for the wedding party to march. Okay, speaking of joking around, I have an issue with some of you people……..especially Phil (the male maid of honor). During practice the night before, he corrected (thankfully) my pronunciation of the word “solace”…..I was saying it like “soulless”…..so that was supposed to be one of the queues for us to crack up a little bit during the service. I had been asking folks in the wedding party if anyone was afraid that they would totally lose their shit in the middle of the ceremony, so the “solace” thing was going to be something that could shut off the tears if need be. Hell, even I was afraid of losing it…..and there were about three times when it almost happened. When you have a nervous, shaking bride standing in front of you, and it happens to be one of your oldest friends, it has an emotional impact that I really can’t describe. And then when the groom starts to crack a little bit when he’s reading his vows…….I was REALLY counting on Phil to take advantage of the whole “solace” thing, but every time I looked over at him he was a fucking statue! You left me hanging you sonofabitch! But all was well afterwards when Phil and I went straight from the ceremony to the men’s room and killed my entire flask in about thirteen seconds. The service went well. It went REALLY well. And it went much faster than I thought it would……totally flew by. I think the only thing I screwed up was the timing of the two poems…..I forgot to have the child poem right after addressing the bride and groom and had to put it right before the other poem later on. Not a huge deal, I think we were all so freaked out that it just didn’t matter. It was one of the most surreal moments of my life…..like watching myself in a movie or something. Damn I needed that drink afterwards…….and I had that drink. Oh yes. There was drinking.
First thing we saw while walking into the library…..love this picture.
Yep, me makey boom boom in my pants about now…..
Aaannnd actual ceremony shots……..how cool is this?
Heather, I know that people always tell brides and new mothers that they or their child are “the most beautiful ever”, but you were absolutely stunning last night, and I can’t wait to see more pictures of your dress. People, I am telling you……most beautiful wedding dress, EVER. Damian, I apologize for not screaming “IT’S ALL FOR YOU DAMIAN!” during the ceremony……but there’s something about locking eyes with the mother of the bride and knowing instinctively that your death would not be quick and it would not be painless. Thanks again for letting me be a part of your big day……we really tore it up!
Best man on the left, maid of honor on the right……..Maddie tore through a for-real potent little bomb of a Cuban cigar that I gave her….very impressive. Phil, I wish your sorry ass wasn’t all the way down in Texas, we’d be extremely bad influences on one another. Someday I’ll forgive you for the whole “solace” debacle….
It was the greatest honor to be part of a wedding party that included none other than Mr. Sasha Baron Cohen. Wow he’s a good kisser!
Rob (picture on the left) is the aforementioned brother of the bride, and a really great friend from high school. I lived with him and Scott (other picture) during the summer of 1992, and a lot of interesting things happened. In fact, that was the summer before I left for Bible college in Minneapolis, and I’m pretty sure the summer in Lawrence was the beginning of the end of my Christian faith. Good times. Very, very good times.
Ah yes, my wonderful handlers for the evening. They were so cool about coming to pick me up early so that I could go face-down if I wanted to…..and I wanted to…but no driving of course. Damn I have hot friends.
………………………..This is where things start getting a little hazy……don’t remember most of these pictures being taken…….but there are some fucking good ones…..you can tell how drunk I am by the level of expressiveness on my face. Believe it or not, I’m not a very smiley guy, so when you see THIS grinning sonofabitch, you know liquor is involved……
I think this is vodka……I don’t really remember, but it ain’t water.
The train from Scirossis Hollow is heading right for us!
And there’s more where THAT came from, Jim! Damn that’s one gay punch….
Damian, did you ever think you’d be the meat in a Phil and Cooper sandwich?
Ryan, thanks again for babysitting me. And yes, what happens at the downtown airport stays at the downtown airport.
I think this is what I’d call a blank stare of drunken insanity.
You know, I’m not kidding at all here, I think I look really good in this photo. And I am not someone who ever says something like that. Ever. Seriously, I’m all looking off to the side like I’m on a page in Details or something. Damn I’m fine. Oh, and Jennifer too. Sorry kid, there’s just no competing with the force of a supernova of hotness like me.
Okay, apologies to the wonderful bridesmaids……the number of photos I took with you had to get old. I think I’m only posting about ten percent of them. Or maybe it wasn’t me at all. Who in the hell took all of these pictures? Was it you, Phil? Nice work. Coolest bridesmaids ever.
Okay, this is not only my favorite photo of my entire life, I think it is cool enough to be historically significant. It’s better than that picture of that Vietnamese soldier blowing that guy’s brains out. It’s even better than that picture of mini- John Kennedy saluting at his dad’s funeral. Seriously, there’s no beating vagina mouth and moon-faced drunk guy. I’m getting a tattoo of this.
What can I say? Chicks dig drunk ministers! I think you may be able to tell I’ve been drinking in this one……
Yes, nicotine IS important enough to brave hurricane force winds…
So anyway, best Saturday ever. You have my permission to envy me. And if you don’t already, then I’ll let you in on a little secret……somehow in the middle of all of this I managed to drop seven pounds. I know, crazy! As I said before, apparently I started singing at some point. I just hope it wasn’t too horrible. Different events are coming back to me……like the fact that every-single-time I went up to the bar, I’d go “and make it a little heavy”. That had to get annoying, because the bartenders were practically relatives by the time it was all over….they had my drink assembled before I even came up to the bar. After we left I guess Ryan and I went to the downtown airport to look out over the city, and we stole some huge rocks for me to put in my front yard. That’s the crazy part…..the rocks are really big, and you have to go up this huge, steep hill to even get to them. So….four rocks, four trips up and down the hill….maybe that’s where the weight loss came in. No way I would do that shit sober. And I’m guessing that’s where the nearly broken thumb happened….I think I remember falling on my ass one time, and apparently used my thumb to break the fall. At some point, an airport security truck came to see what in the hell we were up to…..and according to Ryan he was just wanting to drive off as the guy approached. But NOT ME! Oh no, I guess I was like “I’ll go talk to this guy”…..and I did. I must have been pretty friendly, all drunk and dressed up, because we didn’t wake up in their holding cell or anything.
When I’m drunk I tend to repeat myself. A lot. That is why I planned ahead and made sure a good friend like Ryan would be babysitting me. We’d really have to do something incredibly stupid or dangerous to piss each other off when only one of us is completely shitfaced, but I know it can’t be too fun dealing with me when I’m in “constant repeat” mode. This is all according to Ryan, but we ended up at a Waffle House, and my topics of choice were threefold….First, I wouldn’t shut up about the fact that I thought I may have lost my camera. I didn’t. It was just out in the car. Second, I think I must have asked him about five hundred times where we were. I knew we were at the Waffle House, but I didn’t know what part of town. So I kept asking, and when he’d tell me I was just as surprised to hear it every single time. Lastly, “the bartenders” conversation. After the ceremony, the two female bartenders were really, really nice to me. So nice that I apparently kept asking Ryan all night long….”are they hitting on me, just fucking with me, or sucking up to the officiant?”. Sadly, my self esteem hasn’t caught up with my weight loss, so when someone is flirting with me my first instinct is to think “okay, THEY’RE FUCKING WITH ME!”. So Ryan had to keep saying, “Dude, they were hitting on you. I’m telling you……they were HITTING ON YOU! NOT fucking with you”. I guess my performance during the ceremony was quite impressive, what can I say?
Anyway, I’ll put some more pictures in here as I receive them. I just wanted to give everyone the lowdown on what really was one of the biggest Saturdays of my life. To the wedding party, I will say…..it was an honor and a privilege to spend the evening with you. Seriously, I think we hit that fucker out of the park. And Heather and Damian, congratulations again…..I love you guys, and look forward to many evenings at the Stagecoach.