Festivus Weddingus

Thank god the weekend is over. Not because it wasn't fabulous, but because it was a whirlwind-nonstop celebration, and frankly, I just couldn't drink another goddamn mimosa. Friendette Laura's wedding was this weekend...a blown out affair for about 250 peeps at a big mansion out on Long Island. She married well - they do it up right with raw oyster bars, espresso and cordial bars and hand rolled cigars by two gents who sort of looked more like Al Pacino Italian hard asses than Cuban tobacco farmers but what can you do...

Aside from having to wear shoes that pretty much chewed my feet up to a pulp, H-ette and I got hit on by some married "swingers" who we never would have pegged as such. Talk about awkward. It was one of those nights where once you find out the real intentions you start to put two and two together from all the interaction you've had with them over the course of the night and go "oh. my. god." Like when I spent 20 minutes telling them how much I LOVE oysters, as I'm stuffing my face with them from the freshly shucked-while-you-wait bar, telling them all it takes is a few oysters to make me putty, insert foot in mouth here. And telling the wife how great her boobs looked in her dress. Oh yeah, there were tons of moments like that through out the night. Completely harmless adult banter until you find out they want to swap spit with you horizontally.

Other lessons learned this weekend?

• Kids are a handful. Mine will be trained to sit, be quiet, walk, say hello and hold their pee on command. None of this tantrum b.s. and certainly none of the brat pack crap.
• Shots of "cordial" liquors are not a good idea. There's a reason they suggest cutting that frangelica with coffee and cream.
  
• Shots of anything, for that matter, are not a good idea. Especially when done in rapid fire with "Scuba Steve," the maitre'd for the evening who is kind of like Stone Cold Steve Austin on Long Island steroids. And his shot measurements matched that. Go big or go home, if you know what I mean.
  
• Catholic ceremonies are bananas. People come to the church in shorts and flip flops, that is if they even come. Can you imagine a Jewish wedding ceremony where someone showed up to shul in shorts and flip flops?? Or better yet, someone who only showed up for the party, hoping to have stayed under the radar and miss the long and boring vows? Lookout - Jewish mother devil flames will set your ass on fire. You're better off showing up early, passing out programs, wearing your Bar Mitzvah suit and keeping the peace.
  
• Nothing is/was/will be ever as special and wonderful as my own wedding, which was pretty much my favorite day ever, and I wouldn't trade it in for any raw oyster bar (or swinger come-on) in the world. Except when 1 gets married of course...