Thursday, August 2

CDP Wayback Machine - Wedding Edition.

(Exactly one year ago today, I officiated my very first wedding for my aunt and uncle. Let's go back to the original post I wrote documenting that day in 2006, while I nap quietly in the corner. Shut the lights off when you leave, please.)

"The Wedding Post" - Originally posted August 2, 2006.

After a solid week of fighting the flu, I awoke in my Grandparent's den at 7am on Saturday. In less than nine hours, I was to officiate my very first wedding in front of 100 people.

As soon as I got up from the couch, I took a photo of myself to document this joyous occasion.

Ruh-Roh, I'm still sick.
(Censored for your protection. I was an absolute mess.)


I had to get better, fast.

I had slept for about 18 minutes the night before. For one, I was terrified of what sort of fools I would make the bride and groom to be; as well as what I could do to further fling myself down the ladder of respect within my family.

It was about 80 degrees in the den, so my sleep was ravaged with sweaty nightmares and subconscious ramblings. I kept thinking I didn't have the ceremony written down or I had to add something very important at the last minute. For a second, I actually thought that God was making me sick on purpose because He didn't want me to pretend to be religious. He knew I didn't practice an organized religion or go to church, so perhaps a few stray viruses my way would set me straight.

Fortunately for the happy couple (and unfortunately for my mortal soul), I fought through that crap.

The Backyard.The Tent.

The setting was the backyard of the happy couple, and it was quite beautiful. My mom had taken her duties as Wedding Planner to the next level, creating a fantastic landscape and comfortable area for said wedding. There was even a deluxe Port-A-Potty. Very posh.

Too bad it was 800 degrees out. It was three hours before showtime and we were plowing through sunscreen and Deep Woods Off! like it was going out of style.

A Flower of Some Sort.Nother Tent.

As the wedding party scrambled around, setting things up before the guests arrived, I poured over my script for the millionth time, making sure it was exactly the way I wanted it.

Scriptin' It Up.

I've done public speaking before, and I'm decent enough at it when I have to be. It's not like I prefer it or anything; it's just that people naturally assume that I'd be comfortable addressing a room full of people for some reason. This probably has something to do with me essentially doing it every day on this page. However, real life doesn't have a Backspace button. So, if I were to get up on the podium and start swearing or wet my pants, that would pretty much be the end of it.

In the end, I just have to trust my material. I don't like to ad-lib very much and go off-course; I like to know exactly what I'm going to say and how I'm a-gunna say it. Makes me feel safe.

I didn't feel safe today.

Before I knew it, guests were taking their seats and the Missus was straightening my tie. I honestly remember my own wedding as less stressful; it probably had something to do with the heat. My wrists were sweating through my shirt, which cannot possibly be a normal and healthy thing.

I'm Going To Hell.
(I'm behind the podium, yo. Also, that's the groom with the flower girl, NOT his bride.)

At the start, I was standing up there alone in front of everyone. I could feel them judging me with their eyes. "Why are you up there? You're a fraud. A fraud." I thought I was going to throw up, so I stepped down just as the music started playing. The wedding party emerged, laughing and happy as can be. I saw how genuinely excited and laid back they were about this, and I couldn't help but share their sentiments. After all, hiring me was their idea; they wanted me there for one reason or another, so I just had to do what I did best.

"So, do you want to get married?" I asked them as they reached the podium.

15 minutes later, it was over. Everyone was applauding and crying, and the bride and groom were embracing each other as husband and wife. It was something I never expected to be a part of, and probably will never forget. From what everyone told me, things sounded perfect and everyone did a fantastic job. I took their word for it, because I couldn't think properly.

The Best Man looked at me and said, "Can we get trashed now?"

Amen.

Good Jorb, Wedding Planner.

Things got a little blurry, so here are nine things of interest that happened at the reception:

1. At least 4 kegs were drained. My family comes from a long line of drinkers, and they didn't fail to impress. I drank a wine cooler, as I am a stunning pansy sometimes.

2. At some point in the evening, the bride and groom hopped into the flatbed of a truck and sped to the nearest bar for a shot. They didn't return for at least 45 minutes. We contemplated stealing their television.

3. My mom tells me that the truck that drove them to said bar had a DVD player in it that was airing a porno. I'm telling you, when you think Midwest, you should always think 'classy.'

4. While the bride and groom were gone, someone stole money from the many cards they received. The suspicion was that a drug-addicted friend of the family made off with the loot. Yup.

5. I got a taste of what it was like to be a Holy man, in that nobody wants to party with you. A lot of the people there didn't know me, and assumed that this was what I did for a living. Therefore, everyone sidestepped around me, hid their beer and didn't swear. This got very annoying after a while, but I embraced the unexpected respect.

6. Sometime during the night, a fight broke out. Death threats were made, hearts were broken and punches were almost thrown. I was sound asleep by this point in time.

Drink Eight Glasses Of Water A Day.
(I'm not fat.)

7. As I was sitting at a table with my wife and mom, my mom noticed a kid playing by one of the rock gardens. She said, "I think that kid crapped his pants."

Sure enough, the small boy was walking around, apparently straining to hold his pantal contents in his jeans. After watching him struggle for a few minutes, we stared in horror as he deposited said contents onto said rock garden. He walked away, certain that nobody just saw him set a pile of feces onto a decorative piece of landscaping.

After a few minutes, people started to take notice. A semi-circle formed around the rock garden, and people were trying to figure out what it was. Photos were taken. Eventually, the truth came out and people scattered, gagging and spitting out whatever happened to be in their mouths at the time. The boy was reunited with his mother, who changed his pants and took him home.

8. After the party, a storm blew through that uprooted the tents and destroyed the CD player.

9. The bride's cat was wearing a bowtie.

None of that last stuff was really my fault, so I still think that the wedding was a complete success. Anything that goes wrong at a reception is blamed on alcohol and instantly forgotten the next day.

It should also be noted that as far as weddings go, I've been an usher, a groomsman, a best man, a groom AND a officiant. This is what's known in the wedding business as 'Batting the Cycle.'

Will I do it again? I don't know. All I know is that I couldn't be happier for my uncle and new aunt, and I wish them nothing but the best from here on out. I'll see you at Christmas.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your Thursday.

Comments:
Poop on the bridge. haha.
 
It was classic. I like how many people took pictures of it with the disposable cameras. Imagine what the developer must've thought.
 
He probably kept those pictures for himself.
 
(shudder)
 
I mean, I know that Kiddie Porn is wrong, but what about Kiddie Poop?
 
Wow, now I really am starting to sound like a Reverend.
 
Yikes...

quietly backs out of the room...
 
Yeah, maybe we should start this thread over.

So...it sure is...damp...today...
 
I just love the fact that crap was found on the rock ... yet it wasn't courtesy of the bowtie-wearing cat.

We now know that bowtie-wearing cats are classier than children.
 
Fact: bowtie-wearing cats are classier than children.

Fact: bowtie-wearing monkeys are classier than bowtie-wearing cats.

Therefore, it stands to reason that bowtie-wearing monkeys are classier than bowtie-wearing cats.
 
Er....children. I see what you did, there.

A bowtie-wearing monkey mixes drinks for me at CDP Headquarters. His name is 'Stephen.' Stephen the Monkey.
 
I sure could use a bowtie-wearing monkey to do some of the work I'm so fully avoiding today. And it's damp up there too, eh? Today my area of the "Sunshine State" is totally lacking in the "Sunshine". In fact, it's getting to flood level 1 here. And oddly enough, not a hurricane in sight.

Not to threadjack (er, comment-jack?) or anything, but have you been keeping up with the Lost revelations and spoilers for next season? (Or is that a dumb question, considering?)
 
Yes, I did mean children. Thanks.

Stephen...I like it. There is nothing funnier to me than an animal with a human name.

Except when my friend Allison had a dog named "Josh" in high school. When the dog got hit by a car, she called everyone crying, saying "Josh just got hit by a car."

Of course, everyone assumed it was me and started calling everyone else, until half of my friends thought I was dead.
 
JT - Okay, that 'dog' story is hilarious. From this point forward, I will give all of my pets my own name, just so when they die, I can relish in some elaborate Death Prank with the Missus.

The funniest punchlines are the ones that take 5-20 years to play out.

MAUS - In all honesty, we're in a bit of a drought here. We need rain big time, but frankly, I don't give a crap. I'm never outside, anyways.

As far as Lost goes, I'm keeping up on the basic ins-and-outs of the Season 4 projection (pssst....Michael's coming back!), but I rarely post spoilers during Lost Friday anymore, so it's pretty much for my enjoyment only.

I like the '4 months on, 8 months off' schedule, though. That way, it feels like more of an event when it airs.
 
when I was in 4th grade, I was in a creative writing group where we all got to have a book published. My book was about a farmer's kid named Simon who moved to the big city in the 1960's. He overheard the kids saying that they didn't like him, so he decided it must be his clothes. He went out and bought bell bottoms and a vest to make them think he was cool. In the end, it turns out it was all a misunderstanding. When he overheard the kids, they were actually talking about one of their DOGS named Simon...not him. The moral? I have no idea.

Needless to say, my husband is the writer in the family...not me.
 
The moral is don't cut your fabric to last year's fashion.

Or...don't snoop.

I like that, though. It has limitless comedic possibilities.
 
Hmmm...something smells like spiced ham in here. SPAM, if you will.
 
I wonder how that happened.
 
That surprised me as well. Apparently the spammers are now registering blogger accounts, which is why I have that incredibly annoying letter verification thing.
 
I like to picture the spammers having to register accounts, though...that's pretty darn funny.
 

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