lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's A Burt's Bees Wedding! I just got home from the best wedding I've ever been to. It was surrounded, as all things dealing with the Italian side of my family are, in controversy. Does my cousin abuse his fiancee and their daughter? Do we know? How do we know? Exactly how much is that condo her grandfather gave them as a wedding present? Is it a condo, or a house? But I mean, that's just the catty shit started by my cousin's sister (yeah, my cousin also, but you get it) before the wedding (along with a shitstorm about the bridesmaid dresses, and her quitting of the wedding. What a woman). I had pretty much decided to shut all that stuff out and just enjoy the day. Rich grandfather means open bar, right? Right. First off, my sister called the house this morning and told me to clean out my purse since her blue one matched my outfit, and my orange one matched hers. You can't ask for better swapping opportunities than that. For some reason, the swapping put us in these great, giddy moods. The fact that her baby Evil was at her other grandparents' house for the day probably had something to do with it, too. The Mass was long, because Mass is long. But Brownie and I sat next to each other and whispered the entire time, and had fun. Then it was onto the reception. I noticed on the gift table someone had left an enormous basket of sample-sized Burt's Bees stuff. I made a, well, bee line for it, and joked that I was going to steal all the stuff out of it. Then once seated at my table, I found out we were actually supposed to choose one thing from the basket to take. After picking myself up off the floor, I ran in my cute shoes to the basket and snatched a beeswax lip balm (mint scented.... mmmm). Then later on when I went to the ladies' room, I noticed that there was quite a bit of stuff left (alas, no more beeswax lip balm, because I have a big damn mouth and everyone heard me talking about how great it was). At any rate, I snatched a bar of soap. Then everytime someone excused themselves to go to the ladies', I recruited them to grab me another piece of Burt's Bees heaven. By the end of the night, this is what I had stuffed into my sister's blue purse:
I don't know if that's exactly what they had in mind when they put up the "Take One" sign. Before and during dinner, there was a three-piece band (acoustic guitar, gigantic bass, accordian) that roamed throughout the ballroom, taking requests. As a joke, Brownie requested "We Built This City (On Rock and Roll)" and through a bizarre series of "We don't know that, how about...?" exchanges, got "Yellow Submarine," which the boisterous accordianist sat out for. The guitarist played it and sang it very sweetly, but stared at me (meaningfully? I think so) the whole time. Being as how I have not enjoyed the company of a man in some time, I thought about dragging him into a supply closet and making out, but then I saw the wedding ring, and I want no part of that. Ah, well. He was like, 50 anyway. And then we ate, drank way too much, danced a lot, and went home. With a bulging blue jelly purse full of Burt's Bees. Well, I did; I'm pretty sure everyone else took the allotted one item. Suckers. 1:07 AM - 30 May 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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