Approximately one year ago my former teammate R got married. She met her man off of MySpace. He’s a former bad-boy with the required tattoos and piercings as well as a new found belief in Jesus which is good since he’s an AV tech at an Arizona Church. Snarky as the previous statement is, I know they love each other and are very happy. Plus they presented a wedding so awesome, I dug out pen and paper and took two pages of note.
When was the last time you ever went to a wedding that inspired you to write down every detail?
Therefore, in light of their one year anniversary I present to you the tale of the BEST WEDDING EVER!
Why best wedding? Because nothing on the face of the planet will ever stand up to the memory of her getting hitched.
Remember, R and her husband are both artists: she- graphic, he- video.
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Saturday: 8am on the road to Fountain Hills. It is too bloody early to be in full makeup! I was grumbling about Esposa’s choice of home as I took a right at the, ‘here there be monsteres’ sign as instructed. Perhaps carpooling was a bad idea.
After stopping off for a pack of Capri menthols for her and Marlboro Lights, coffee and anti-hangover medicine for me we finally hit the road again and in about 16 hours we pulled into the church parking lot.
and there, o my foes and friends, began the show known as the greatest wedding on the face of the planet!
Esposa and I had been to weddings in the past so we knew the routine in terms of dress code. Meaning, nice dress and heels. Both of us roll up in our dressy-ish black dresses. Me, knowing it was going to be a very nouveau-Jesus type shindig, and unable to resist my puckish impulses, I dug out my biggest cross necklace.
Accenting of course by seriously monstrous cleavage. I mean my tatas were extremely bodacious that day: push up bra, wrap dress yep I was laying it all out there. Daring the nice Christian boys to look somewhere other than my face.
‘Jesus loves me this I know
‘cause he gave me this rack to show!”
Esposa and I are extremely early to the hitching and decide to burn a few… cigs that is not heathen witches, in the parking lot.
First up we had Mr. quick change artiste. Because nothing says “Classy with a K” like changing OUT of one’s big giant bass shirt into your wedding buffalo check flannel. Personally I thought the fish shirt was a tad more appropriate than the buffalo check, but hey that’s just me.
The fashionable foot wear of this wedding was, and I’m not kidding, flip flops and sneakers.
Worn with the finest prom dresses the salvation army could provide.
and let’s not forget the mother of the groom in a floor length pale lime green satinet number, with rhinestones and flip flops. It was about here that I grabbed my notebook.
Also notable, one lone woman in the trashest white hooker heels $25 in change can buy.
We stubbed out our last smokes, and last catty little remarks, adopted an air of “please do not strike me dead as I step food in church God” we entered the Hall of Jesus.
It was a modern type church, in the Nouveau Jesus perchance with a lot of AV equipment around: Frenel lights, backdrop etc. Really large stage area with a white backdrop and snowflakes pinned every which way. It really was more like a theater than a church.
Esposa and I sat down and noticed that “Night of the Lepus”, on loan from me by the way, was playing in the church. Let me tell you nothing says wedding like watching little fake bunnies with blood around their mouths getting their heads blown off in a place of God.
I still haven’t gotten my movie back.
The garlands decorating the pews were very “Children of the Corn meets kindergarden Halloween Party” Skulls, snakes etcetera, tied with a bunch of straw.
A particular favorite moment of mine was the reverential hush that fell over the guests as the white carpet was slowly unrolled down the aisle. It would have been a nice touch except it was unrolled a bit crooked and the guests on the aisle evidently got the memo that they had to help straighten it. Which they did.
I also noticed that the white carpet was a scosh dirtied with footprints. And a tear, but hey you work with what you have.
Esposa’s favorite moment came when a guy in a Homer Simpson head, not the costume just the big plastic head, escorted her to our seats.
Me I got the guy dressed as a coach. Ahh it’s all the glamour to be the jammer isn’t it? No love for us the pivots-blockers. We sat with a couple of other derby girls and waited. The wedding was about to begin.
I think all in all, R had seven bridesmaids. Each one was a different theme in music history: hippie, funk, rock, country etc. And every bridesmaid walked to a different song.
The biggest scene stealer was the ring bearer: 10 year old boy dressed as a Mexican Bandito, serape, sombero, big mustache and cigarette in his mouth, walking to the theme from “The good, the bad and the ugly.”
You can make your own jokes here. Cigarette to 10 year old aside it was pretty cute and most of us had the ‘good’ laugh.
And then it was R’s turn.
Her music? Led Zeppelin, Immigrant Song. Her dress? GOREGOUS! Her photographers? MANY! I do believe there were about seven photographers at this wedding, capturing every angle and I MEAN every angle: not one but two ladders were set up on stage to get the “above” shots, one guy was doing some sort of army crawl up the dirty white aisle to catch the “below” shot, and about five others were positioned on the stage to get the “side” shots.
The ceremony.
The priest had some sort of Janet Jackson “Control” headset on. But it was flesh colored rather than black; the church was not that big that it would disappear for the back rows so it just looked odd. He was dressed in a cream colored vest and pant set, with collar of course.
He was also a relative of Debbie Downer, “…And there will be bad times.
Really bad times.
Times where you just want to give up.
Times when you just want to walk away.
Times when you dream about packing your bags and running off into the night.
Times when you’d rather die than be with this person. Times when you just can’t think about living another day with this person. But …. you go on.”
Whoaaaa there Father Frownie Face! I get that you want to emphasize the importance of turning two separate lives into one but come ON it’s supposed to be a HAPPY DAY! Let’s not channel our own bad experiences, ok? It’s R’s day, not yours. Yours is tomorrow.
Not only was the reverand negative but an inappropriate joker as well. The groom is of average height and rather rangy in build. R’s dress rather big and poofy, in the good way, because after all it is a wedding dress.
As R and her man knelt on the “Pew for two” on the stage, her dress taking up quite a bit of room, Father Frownie pipes up with this gem.
“Wow it’s good thing the Groom is skinny!”
My jaw still aches from how hard it dropped that day. What a JERK! Not only did he go all Nancy Negative on her day, now he’s calling her FAT! Which she’s not by the way.
All I can say that it was a very good thing this was in Church and it’s bad karma to hit a priest ‘cause I was about ready to deliver the almighty hand of Allah bitchslap to Father Frownie at that point.
One year later, I still get huffy thinking about that little bon mot. The rest of the ceremony was forgettable except for the joy and happiness on R’s face. As R and her husband walked down that dirty aisle not one soul in that place didn’t give a little, “Awww!” as, “Part-time Love” from the movie Juno started the soundtrack to start their new life together.
It was a very sweet ending to the ceremony.
The reception.
The food was pretty basic as the two of them were on a pretty tight budget for the wedding, what with the 29 photographers and all. Sandwich makings, salads etc. Instead of a wedding cake, R did cupcakes instead.
One table, had red velvet cupcakes topped with black icing. A pile of skull napkins nearby. The other had your standard blue-yellow-pink cupcakes. There was also a candy bar with a ton of candy.
Another highlight of the wedding; we sat with our backs to the candy bar so we heard a strange “zzz” sound. Someone was pouring out the jelly beans from a huge wineglass and then took the wineglass. Classy with a K strikes again.
Also, I had neglected to notice the battleship grey blobby animal thing on the altar. Esposa did not. So when the blobby animal thing showed up as the bride and groom made there entrance, I found it odd someone handed the groom a giant broadsword. He cut off the blob’s alleged head, and red candy spilled out. And the kids ran to gather up the goodies.
Another highlight of the wedding, the groom and his mom danced to “Mommas don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.” Sweet.
In my opinion, the most romantic part of the wedding came when the groom was chatting up our table. He and his dad used to watch roller derby all the time when he was a kid.
He told his dad, “I’m gonna grow up and marry a derby girl.” and by golly he did. Major “Aww!” moment from yours truly.
So the reception was over, and we were pretty much shoved out the door. Esposa, I and the other derby girls kinda hung around waiting to wish R off. She came out and had a smoke with us. We complimented her lovely dress and R showed off her wedding sneakers, appropriate considering she was recovering from a busted ankle.
She also informed us that she had gone commando for the ceremony.
That kinda made the whole “below” photo angles a whole lot more funny to me.
Church beaver shots, gotta love it!
A cig or two later she disappeared back into the church to finish up some buisness. And about 20 minutes later all of us watched as R’s husband drove off in their car, all of us wishing her well. R had converted to his church when they had gotten serious so we all knew they were definitely waiting for the wedding night to consummate.
“I bet you they’re doing it by the side of the road within 5 minutes.” After a hearty chuckle, we were more than a bit shocked to see R come out and drive off with her new father-in-law in his truck.
I kinda wished I was on the road with a camera to take a picture of the lone guy driving R’s little car with “just married” on the back window. Total photo op if ever there was one.
Anyway, I hope R and her husband are having a very happy anniversary! And thanks for the memories of the best wedding ever!
verbally but found it again hardcore.