Sunday, June 29, 2008

the bride wore white; the guest wore rubber

A classy girl's footwear.

Last night I went to a wedding at Fox Hills with my friend Jim, as his "and guest". I decided to wear my long, black skirt and a sleeveless lacy shirt. Then I realized that all of my dressy shoes hurt my toe joint. All of them. Even my most comfortable, all-purpose dressier flats. I couldn't even walk around my house in them, let alone survive an entire evening on my feet. So you know what I ended up wearing? $6 rubber flip-flops from Target. I was so embarrassed, but I couldn't help it. It was that or my hiking shoes, people, so the wedding guests should feel lucky indeed.

So of course, I got to the wedding and immediately started having a big case of foot envy. Other girls had on dainty, feminine shoes, strappy, embellished little works of art on their feet. And here I came up the garden path with my shoes going THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK. Sigh.

The wedding was outdoors, and after a stormy morning, the sun came out. It was humid, but I had done major work on my hair with a straightening iron and amazingly, it held up. For some reason, Jim and I had the giggles during the ceremony. But the worst part was when the priest said to the groom "and what token do you have for the bride?" and he put the ring on her finger. Then the priest said "and what token do you have for the groom?" and Jim leaned over and whispered in my ear, "creamed corn." That was it. I had a vision of the bride holding creamed corn in her cupped hands, dripping through her fingers, offering it proudly to her groom while he looked on in excitement, the congregation dabbing sentimental tears from their eyes. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing. We are horrible.

The evening wore on. The buffet was very tasty, especially the chicken. It was in some cream sauce with artichokes - really good. And mashed potatoes, which I haven't had since the cruise. YUM. But then, on a bathroom break, I looked in the mirror - and discovered my shirt was ripped. Or had come apart. How does this even happen? The lace had unraveled and was hanging in a gap over the white lining. I looked like someone had taken a slice at my boob with a sword. Which believe me, in my life, could possibly happen.

The incriminating rip.

I felt like some disastrous, unraveling, rubber shoe wearing misfit. I swear, it must be the curse of being a Sagittarius. We clean up pretty well, but if you look closer, there's always something a little off about us - gravy dribbled on a shirt, mismatched socks, a big goop of mascara in the corner of an eye, a piece of lettuce in the hair.

Oh, well.

Jim and I gave requests to the deejay, and he didn't play any of them. I had written on the request sheet "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order and "Oh, L'amour" by Erasure. The last dance ended, and he wished everyone a safe drive home. Jim (who had quite a few martinis under his belt by this point) started shouting "What?! You're done? You're really done? Oh, no, NO! How about some Erasure?" The deejay took pity on us, and played "Oh, L'amour" for us as he took down his strobe lights. I sang to Jim at the top of my lungs as we flailed around dramatically, the only two on the dance floor at 1 a.m. And that wrapped up the wedding.

Today is another rather gloomy and rainy day here. What's the deal with the weather lately? It's been the stormiest June I can remember. Anyway, I'm going to clean the guest room, which has become a horrible catch-all for the stuff I don't want to deal with. There are piles of old mail that need to be shredded or filed, clothes, baskets of Christmas decorations (um, yeah . . . I know), perhaps even a lost child. Who knows what I'll find in there.

Happy rainy Sunday to you all!

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