The Wedding Fiasco
This weekend's wedding may be the most amusing family wedding in recent history. Let us count the ways it is already a fiasco:
1. My aunt and uncle are very concerned about doing this wedding right. Now, I guess to them, being prominent business people in a famous small Midwestern city, it matters. To the rest of us, not so much. And so they invited a bunch of us to a rehearsal dinner that it seems the groom's parents neglected to actually have.
This should not matter. There's a minister in the family and a minister at the church. Between the two of them, they can get the teams into a huddle and call the plays right before anyone walks down the aisle. Or there could be a rehearsal and we all go to McDonald's or back to our hotels or whatever.
But, no, somehow my aunt and uncle have pulled a rehearsal dinner right out of their asses.
2. In part, this is to cover for the immense shame they seem to feel because my cousin and her fiance bought a house together and moved in together like six months ago. We all had to hear the elaborate explanation for why this was the most economically sound decision they could make and how, once they bought the house, it was unreasonable for my aunt and uncle to insist that he continue to live in his apartment.
Setting aside the obvious "Why do they get to tell him where he lives?" crap, the man's my age. Sweet Jesus. If a thirty-one year old man wants to marry your daughter but does not want to fuck her, he is THE GAY!!!! Be relieved that they fuck. Be happy everyone knows. Christ.
3. Speaking of gay, apparently, my mom outted me to the whole family. Thanks Mom. Detective Mom discerned that I was thirty-one and not married, assumed that I was not eating babies at the dinner table and didn't shit myself in public, and figured 'well, shoot, some man ought to have snapped her up by now, what's the problem?' and then met the Professor a couple of times and put 2 and 1 together and got 4.
She didn't want me to be uncomfortable at the wedding, so she "smoothed the way" for me.
Because, of course, there's nothing smoother than having to spend a whole evening going "No, I'm not actually gay, I'm just socially inept."
4. Which is fine, really, because the other choice was to bring the Man from GM, which was the plan. He was going to drive over from Detroit and accompany me. Yes, my parents have had me married off to him in their heads for fifteen years. Yes, nothing would make them happier than to see me dancing around with him and them telling all the cousins "Yes, he's got a great job." And, despite all that bullshit, I was still going to bring him anyway.
And then he came to visit.
Let us not revisit that awkward time.
But anyway, suffice to say, as much as I love him, if I see him again, I'm going to have to punch him in the face and, having never punched anyone in the face before, I need to develop my skills before then.
posted by Aunt B at 10/05/2005 07:06:00 AM
21 Comments:
Rather than protesting your parents assumptions, you should throw gas on the fire.
At some point during the weekend, when someone asks you when you are going to get married, answer with a steely voice "As soon as they legalize it."
That'll shut 'em up.
Brilliant!
I'm totally doing this. Because, really, you're right. It's already a fiasco, why not have fun with it?
At this point, what do you have to lose?
The Password is nadust.
These comments on this entry have sadly ended for me the illusion that I was the only one that used this response with people at weddings. My other favorite is "We're waiting until Snake gets paroled." You can use any name you want, I just like to use snake.
Your mom's 2 plus 1 equals four is not at all the same thing, but it reminds me of my family. I have a relative of a particularly stringent and socially conservative religious persuasion who takes every opportunity since I moved in with Mr. Mathlete to alternately deny his existance and my residence even though this relative has met him and sent me mail there, or to stenously remind me of my young cousin of the same religious persuasion who will be getting married straight out of college like a good girl. Being stand up and saying I know you don't agree, I don't expect you to agree and I respect that you don't and why you don't but I will make my own decision just makes it worse so I would definately go with the fun and funny answer.
Maybe you could bring a picture of the professor with you to show everyone.
-SuperGenius
Her butt does look very sexy in her new black dress... But if I bring the Professor, who will watch the dog?
Or bring a fake date, like one of those movies starring sitcom stars.
The Man from GM was supposed to be my fake date before he sat on the couch and said--I'm slightly paraphrasing--"So, B. says your a huge slut. When are we going to fuck?" and sat at breakfast and said "So, these are the folks in your department? B. told me that I shouldn't tell them [insert deep dark career-compromising secret]. Do you really have a problem with people knowing that?"
Yes, I'm partially to blame for saying anything about anything that he might construe as "slutty" behavior and feel the need to talk about, but seriously, he can't be around my parents. I don't need him saying "So, your daughter's [insert stupid-ass sexual exploit]. Does that bother you?"
The fake date is right out.
"You're" of course. Oops.
Having a fake date that isn't a security risk is key.
Call Dermot Mulroney. Apparently he does this sort of thing all of the time.
Once I hired a hooker for the weekend, turned out to be Julia Roberts. So you never know.
Maybe I'll ask Jessica if she wants to come with me. All the hot gossip rags are reporting that she and Nick are over, so she's probably looking for something to do.
Her dad claims to be a minister. My dad's a minister. And we're both a little more excited about Johnny Knoxville than common sense would dictate a girl ought to be. I think we'd have a lot in common.
Now that you're doing this kind of hard-hitting reporting, are you going to get to the bottom--so to speak--of this Payton Manning/Kenny Chesney rumor?
Regarding the Chesney/Manning connection, there may be something there. At Manning's website there is a scrapbook/slideshow dedicated soley to the midget singer.
I can see it now. "This is my girlfriend. And, see, this one is my girlfriend's nice butt."
Do your parents still live near where I'm going this weekend? Maybe your dog would like to come visit me while I visit people. I'll try to check if our signs of vandalism by margarine are still visible.
-SuperGenius
Oh my god! I hadn't thought of the Sigma Chi rock in ages! It's been ten years. If that shit isn't washed away by now, I'm going to stop eating margarine. Something that you're supposed to be able to eat should not stain a rock like that.
You'll tell the man who ran away to join the circus hello for me if you see him, won't you?
But, yes, the folks are still just south of C/U or U/C, which ever.
I will be sure to tell him hello and I have already planned to wear my TCP shirt while I am there. If I get to see the letter from a famous religious author that we saw on a daily basis in that one class, I will be sure to call you immediately.
I think that's why we only buy real butter, but I'm not in charge of that part of the shopping.
Was that the same night we drank all that Night Train and watched Natural Born Killers?
Serve chilled for best taste - SuperGenius
No, the real question is whether that is the same night I peed on the Sigma Chi house. Did I act out all my hostility in one evening or was it two?
So, I have to say that, though I know that a series of things happened that summer--I lived with the soccer team (thank god for no air conditioning! All those boys, so little clothing.), you and I defaced the rock, I peed on that fucking monsterous house, we got very drunk and watched "Natural Born Killers" while marvelling at how good Night Train was (a sure sign you need to stop drinking), the Libertarian tried repeatedly to convert me after he moved in, you slept on the porch, other drunks slept on the porch,--I have no idea what happened when.
Might I suggest Sarcastro as your fake date? Now that would be interesting.
W
Flattered, but I'm going to Georgia for the weekend.
Your loss. I'd have brought you and still told everyone I was a lesbian, just to enjoy watching them scrutinize you.
Shoot, you could have even worn the Professor's sexy black dress.
I remember that you peed on the house but I have no memory of being there. Which either means that was when we drank night train or that I wasn't there. Actually, now I remember. I wasn't there because I was drinking at the bar with the popcorn machine. That was also the summer we drove to that old secluded cemetary to take a late night walk and immdiately drove out because we both instantly had identitcal get out of here now feelings.
I want to call this part of the comment you can shoot me now. I could make some comment about what happens once in a great while when people go to weddings without dates, but that kind of negates any the singular is as fabulous as the plural aspect of the discussion. If I did make it, I would do so not to be one of those sickening meet! boys! now! people. It would only be in revenge for all the winking comments a few years back.
Professor, I thought of our mutual bridesmaid experience the other day because I was driving home from work and heard the offical bridesmaid themesong, everyone was kung fu fighting. And pole dancing.
SuperGenius
I might be referring to what you are thinking I am referring to at a wedding alone or I might be referring to the time I got to hang out in the parking lot of some sort of veterans organization where the bride's aunts were serving homemade wine and 50 some odd years of family gossip. Which was fascinating even if you didn't know the family.
Or both.
-SGenius
Might I pop in at this point to say that a punch to the face, poorly executed, may well be a more effective expression of rage and frustration than a punch to the face, well-executed? After all, you don't want to die still waiting to be good enough at punching to go crazy on some errant faces.
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