So, a few weeks ago, my friend Megan told me that I had to go with her to her friend Kelly’s wedding. Kelly was one of the people who always hung out when Megan came back to town, so I know her and I’ve met her husband. But I was really just filling the seat. I’m really happy for Kelly, but the wedding was a bit weird. There were pauses in the ceremony for cheesy music to be played, she danced with her dad before dinner, and we had a strange sherbet between the salad and the main course. It was all for Kelly, but I heard she just wanted to go home and take it easy. I believe their daughter is only three months old (and adorable) so I can understand that sentiment.
Did I mention that Megan had to kick me during one of the cheesy songs because I was trying to quietly stifle my laughter? After several minutes of, “God has brought you to me,” my shoulders were shaking with the effort.
Afterwards, Megan and I went to the Portland City Grill where I got even more loaded, and we badgered this poor young couple into holding hands. (We were spying on them and they looked like they really wanted to, but were afraid to.) Megan paid for their drinks before we left.
So today, in atonement, I ran the wood chipper, mowed the lawn, and washed my car. I also forgot to take a nap and watch football. What fun is that? I should probably stop drinking.