God help me, I do love it so. (REVISED, sorta)
OK, the wedding.
On average, the wedding sucked. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see the suckitude was not thorough, noxious and complete. Herewith, a report:
As stated previously, I began libations early to establish a proper frame of mind before anything. This didn't please TFBIM. She wanted me to go--quite sober, mind you--and if I didn't have the force of character and willpower to actually make myself like the wedding, then at least fake it convincingly. "Honey," I explained, seeking to dispel dangerous notions from her mind "this way lies madness."
Then I dressed. I threw on my ivory linen suit, Bristol blue and white pinstriped shirt and a navy/purply-with-bits of gold tartan bow tie*. I'm not good at being noble, but I looked like an extra (a particularly rakish one, at that) from the road company of Casablanca. I only wished I had my Panama hat.
We had to take my MiL, since my FiL "hurt his knee" and couldn't go** and my MiL doesn't do the driving thing. This would work well, since my MiL is a legendary PITA and would begin to wheedle TFBIM really early and we'd be home in no time. So off we go, rushing to make the 6:30pm time.
Only to realize they meant 6:30pm Central time. Fortunately the resort where it was held is a VERY nice resort, and as such has a very nice bar which would permit me to reestablish my wavering buzz. How nice was the bar? A Balvenie Doublewood Single Malt Scotch on ice and a glass of Carneros Creek Pinot Noir ran us $36.33 including tip. I think I was the only guest to be drinking during the actual ceremony. Luckily for me, there was a 2 year old sitting in our row, and I was able to make faces to get him to laugh. That, and the tumbler of scotch, kept me in fine fettle during the whole ceremony.
Which reminds me, for those of you entertaining notions of a romantic wedding held at a lovely tropical resort by the sea: Your wedding video will be marred by joggers, windsurfers, fat guys on jet skis and boats and foghorns and all. Just thought I'd mention it.
The wedding was officiated by a very French French-Canadian Franciscan, who spent the whole time sweating like Michael Jackson under oath. The wedding was a civil sort of thing though, not a Catholic one, which is strange because I know for a fact, priests are not allowed to do any wedding outside a Catholic setting. (Even co-officiating a bi-faith thing takes reams of paperwork.) I mean, instead of the usual Bible readings, they read Kahlil Gibran! In 2005? WTF? This is the stuff you quote to Oberlin girls to try and score, people! Whatever.
Then came the cocktail hour. The bar set up therefor kinda sucked, though, with pretty slim pickings, liquor-wise, so I had to make do with Johnnie Walker Black Label. Feh. However, one part which verily didn't suck were the nibbles proffered during cocktail hour. Exceedingly yummy, even by my high standards. There were bits of chicken cooked in the fashion of coconut shrimp, with a great mango salsa; mini beef tenderloin*** kebabs with an herb-y/EVOOish/garlicky sauce, and a ceviche thing on fried polenta cracker. I loaded up on that, not knowing what dinner would bring, or, given the pace of the thing, when. The musical mood was set by guy on a saxophone accompanied by a karaoke machine.
One thing struck me as unusual. It was the first wedding, since my own, where the men in the wedding party wore morning coats. Granted, my wedding was at 9am and this one kicked off at "6:30pm" so that was weird, but, hey, we live in a pluralist society and all. The bride who, despite having the sort of personality which has never really imprinted itself upon my psyche, looked okay. Which is a pity, because she is actually an extremely pretty girl. She had colored her naturally (non-flaming) red hair a rather flat chocolate brown, and the dress consisted of a plain white satin skirt with a white satin corset. It looked like the sort of thing women used to wear as the 3rd-of-7 layers.
I also noticed that, even though the wedding was smallish, this one featured more women without dates than all other weddings I have attended, combined. It was really an impressive sight, and the groomspersons had the citadels of their manhood under assault almost from the second the recessional ended. Which is saying a lot, because that crowd seems to be a focal point for the body modification and alternative hairstyle movement.
The salad sucked. Mixed greens with a wedge of Brie (which had frozen to the plate) and a gorgonzola vinaigrette**** in case anyone suffered from a cheese deficiency. The main course was pretty OK, though; a chicken ballotine with tart-ish apples and wrapped in thick-cut bacon, with fried goat cheese dumplings. (Dr. Atkins would have approved.) The apple stuffing was no great shakes, but the rest of the plate was pretty good. Dessert was the wedding cake, and that was OK also.
By this point, I was fading...fast. Which was OK, because the music offered for our dancing pleasure verily sucked. How much? Groomspersons were able to breakdance, with mad breakdancin' skillz, that's how much the music sucked. So after cake, I began to goad the MiL, who began to pester TFBIM and, in no time, I was home!
Do not try this at home, kids.
-J.
* I wear bow ties when going to an event under duress. Except when the thing is a back tie thing.
** Yeah. Uh-huh. Right. Sure. Even if his knee IS hurt, I'm sure it's hurt in the way a coyote gnaws off his own leg.
*** A damned brilliant use for all the extra bits left over from the cutting of filet mignon
**** Seemed like regular blue cheese salad dressing to me, but I was not in peak judging form
On average, the wedding sucked. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see the suckitude was not thorough, noxious and complete. Herewith, a report:
As stated previously, I began libations early to establish a proper frame of mind before anything. This didn't please TFBIM. She wanted me to go--quite sober, mind you--and if I didn't have the force of character and willpower to actually make myself like the wedding, then at least fake it convincingly. "Honey," I explained, seeking to dispel dangerous notions from her mind "this way lies madness."
Then I dressed. I threw on my ivory linen suit, Bristol blue and white pinstriped shirt and a navy/purply-with-bits of gold tartan bow tie*. I'm not good at being noble, but I looked like an extra (a particularly rakish one, at that) from the road company of Casablanca. I only wished I had my Panama hat.
We had to take my MiL, since my FiL "hurt his knee" and couldn't go** and my MiL doesn't do the driving thing. This would work well, since my MiL is a legendary PITA and would begin to wheedle TFBIM really early and we'd be home in no time. So off we go, rushing to make the 6:30pm time.
Only to realize they meant 6:30pm Central time. Fortunately the resort where it was held is a VERY nice resort, and as such has a very nice bar which would permit me to reestablish my wavering buzz. How nice was the bar? A Balvenie Doublewood Single Malt Scotch on ice and a glass of Carneros Creek Pinot Noir ran us $36.33 including tip. I think I was the only guest to be drinking during the actual ceremony. Luckily for me, there was a 2 year old sitting in our row, and I was able to make faces to get him to laugh. That, and the tumbler of scotch, kept me in fine fettle during the whole ceremony.
Which reminds me, for those of you entertaining notions of a romantic wedding held at a lovely tropical resort by the sea: Your wedding video will be marred by joggers, windsurfers, fat guys on jet skis and boats and foghorns and all. Just thought I'd mention it.
The wedding was officiated by a very French French-Canadian Franciscan, who spent the whole time sweating like Michael Jackson under oath. The wedding was a civil sort of thing though, not a Catholic one, which is strange because I know for a fact, priests are not allowed to do any wedding outside a Catholic setting. (Even co-officiating a bi-faith thing takes reams of paperwork.) I mean, instead of the usual Bible readings, they read Kahlil Gibran! In 2005? WTF? This is the stuff you quote to Oberlin girls to try and score, people! Whatever.
Then came the cocktail hour. The bar set up therefor kinda sucked, though, with pretty slim pickings, liquor-wise, so I had to make do with Johnnie Walker Black Label. Feh. However, one part which verily didn't suck were the nibbles proffered during cocktail hour. Exceedingly yummy, even by my high standards. There were bits of chicken cooked in the fashion of coconut shrimp, with a great mango salsa; mini beef tenderloin*** kebabs with an herb-y/EVOOish/garlicky sauce, and a ceviche thing on fried polenta cracker. I loaded up on that, not knowing what dinner would bring, or, given the pace of the thing, when. The musical mood was set by guy on a saxophone accompanied by a karaoke machine.
One thing struck me as unusual. It was the first wedding, since my own, where the men in the wedding party wore morning coats. Granted, my wedding was at 9am and this one kicked off at "6:30pm" so that was weird, but, hey, we live in a pluralist society and all. The bride who, despite having the sort of personality which has never really imprinted itself upon my psyche, looked okay. Which is a pity, because she is actually an extremely pretty girl. She had colored her naturally (non-flaming) red hair a rather flat chocolate brown, and the dress consisted of a plain white satin skirt with a white satin corset. It looked like the sort of thing women used to wear as the 3rd-of-7 layers.
I also noticed that, even though the wedding was smallish, this one featured more women without dates than all other weddings I have attended, combined. It was really an impressive sight, and the groomspersons had the citadels of their manhood under assault almost from the second the recessional ended. Which is saying a lot, because that crowd seems to be a focal point for the body modification and alternative hairstyle movement.
The salad sucked. Mixed greens with a wedge of Brie (which had frozen to the plate) and a gorgonzola vinaigrette**** in case anyone suffered from a cheese deficiency. The main course was pretty OK, though; a chicken ballotine with tart-ish apples and wrapped in thick-cut bacon, with fried goat cheese dumplings. (Dr. Atkins would have approved.) The apple stuffing was no great shakes, but the rest of the plate was pretty good. Dessert was the wedding cake, and that was OK also.
By this point, I was fading...fast. Which was OK, because the music offered for our dancing pleasure verily sucked. How much? Groomspersons were able to breakdance, with mad breakdancin' skillz, that's how much the music sucked. So after cake, I began to goad the MiL, who began to pester TFBIM and, in no time, I was home!
Do not try this at home, kids.
-J.
* I wear bow ties when going to an event under duress. Except when the thing is a back tie thing.
** Yeah. Uh-huh. Right. Sure. Even if his knee IS hurt, I'm sure it's hurt in the way a coyote gnaws off his own leg.
*** A damned brilliant use for all the extra bits left over from the cutting of filet mignon
**** Seemed like regular blue cheese salad dressing to me, but I was not in peak judging form
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