Sweet Julia wrote me the other day to say that she missed my "wedding jibber jabber" now that I'm all married up. By "jibber jabber" I believe she meant moaning, whining, bitching, storming off in a huff, enslaving friends, playing the martyr and generally behaving badly. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, Julia, but there is more where that came from - I just need a new project in which to channel my shitty attitude.
But while we're still jibbin' and jabbin', Peonies (who has some very, very good news) put up a preview of our wedding pictures on her blog LIllian and Leonard and I am dying of anticipation. More, Peonies, more! This photograph captured a quiet and harmonious pause in my stream of invective shortly after our blissful nuptials in the cathedral:
(30 seconds after we walked down the aisle triumphant and joyful, we are corralled into a room with our bridal party.)
Loverboy (Best Man): Um, the priest wants the marriage license.P: Ask Fauxhawk - he's got it.
Fauxhawk appears behind him.
Fauxhawk: Marriage license?
P: (Spider senses tingling) YES. THE MARRIAGE LICENSE. DO YOU HAVE IT.
Fauxhawk: Was I supposed to have it? (Miraculously and incredibly mystified despite having been given explicit instructions days before.)
P: You were supposed to bring it to the church. The marriage is not legal without it and the priest could get in trouble. Wait - where is the license?
Loverboy: OK! (Artificially chipper and sensing doom) Don't worry! We'll find it! Don't worry! (Disappears)
1 minute later.
Fauxhawk: We can't find it.
P: What the FUCK! I give you ONE JOB. ONE. ONE JOB. ONEONEONEONEONE JOB! WHERE IS THE FUCKING LICENSE? I PLANNED THIS WHOLE FUCKING WEDDING MYSELF AND ALL YOU...
Loverboy and assorted bridesmaids push Fauxhawk out of room while P's head spins around in the manner of Poltergeist.
P: (Muttering) ONE JOB! ONE! (Repeat several hundred times until marriage license is later produced from Fauxhawk's backpack.)
And that, my friends, was my one Bridezilla moment (if you don't count calling the douchey musical director a "ridiculous and pompous douche" to his beleaguered assistant).
Are you guys interested in more wedding jibs and jabs? Or will it make you vom? Because when those pictures come in, and when our little video clip is ready, I will have some serious ammo to share.
P.S. Sarah posted more pictures of our wedding flowers, which were magical. LOOK AT THE BOUQUET I GOT TO CARRY. LOOK AT IT. I KNOW YOU HATE ME, BUT DON'T.
P.P.S. Love you, F-Hawk.
