Thursday, November 20, 2008

wedding chronicles, part III

Fancy invitations that much to my surprise required rush shipping to receive them in less than 2 weeks - $62.58

Enough stamps to mail all that shit - $12.60

Wedding gift from registry that actually qualified for Free Super Saver Shipping - $34.00

Tank of gas to get to Atlanta now that prices are reasonable again - $20.00

Cost of food for ridiculous and inappropriate shower - $62.35

Cost of prizes for idiotic shower game at ridiculous and inappropriate shower - $35.00

Amount of money I have made this year - About $300




*****

Given my current financial predicament, I am pondering new avenues of income. Considering the overwhelmingly positive reaction to my Halloween costume, I am thinking about responding to this...http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/836109998.html

It was really the "no anal required" that drew me in. After all, I am a woman of principle.

So you're all dying to know how the shower went down. At long last, here goes...

At the last minute, it came to my attention that The Bride wanted some freaking GAMES at her "shower" (which I decided was more appropriately titled "Engagement Party" because of the whole "you're not invited but come to my party anyway and by the way here's where I'm registered" thing). Here's the deal with games - they're usually stupid, and you have to provide prizes. At my wedding shower, the games were short and painless, and the gifts were overall goofy dollar store fare, which was delightful and fun - Lee press-on nails, an assortment of fiesta-related magnets, and some polyester hair extentions. Awesome! But this party is for adults - most of whom I have never met. Scratch that, all of whom. So what's a partygiver to do? Sigh. Get fancy shit I can't afford.

So I got all ready to head to the ATL for the party, and on the way I was horrified to recall that I hadn't planned any games and had no prizes. I stopped at that foul excuse for a shopping mall out here and darted into Victoria's Secret.

"Two ten-dollar gift cards, please!" I requested hurriedly. "Sure," the salesgirl replied. "But just so you know, if you buy $10 worth of merchandise, you get a gift card with a mystery amount on it, anywhere from $10-$500."

Sweeeeet!! I thought. A way to recoup a tinky tiny bit of my losses. "Okay!" I replied. I darted to the horribly stinky perfumey stuff section, grabbed a little trio of sample thingies, and ran back to the register. I paid for the stuff (see: Above) and dashed for the car, feeling a little brighter that I now had a little prezzie for myself. As I drove, I entertained fantasies of a $500 panty spree. I would spend it all on crotchless g-strings and thus reaffirm my non-matronliness.

I arrived at the Bride's house a teensie bit late because of my prize stop. I bustled in and offered her the gift from me (which I had forgotten to wrap, but I'm not Superwoman, okay? don't judge.) She crinkled her face and said, "Okay, thanks, but I think we should take that to the restaurant for me to open." Her mom was at her place too, but she wasn't going to come to the party because of a migraine or something - probably she had overdosed on her daughter's relentless insanity and was desperate for any means of escape. I envied her migraine and tried to will myself into tuberculosis or dysentery.

Anyway, her mom had also brought a gift for her. Now if it were me, I'm just sayin', I would have opened a gift from my mom with my mom, so she could see my delight and I could thank her. If it were me. Just sayin'. But it wasn't me, so we took the gift with us for her to open at the restaurant. Why a grown woman wants to open as many gifts as possible in public, I'll never understand, but whatevs. It seemed relatively minor brattery at the time.
We arrived at the restaurant fashionably late (only like 5 minutes) with a leetle bit of complaint from her, but nothing too bad. Nobody was there yet anyway (heh! my credit cards smiled with glee inside my wallet at this). I struggled to get all my crap out of the car as the valet stood boredly waiting for my keys. I gathered up my coat, my scarf, my purse, my camera, my gift for her, and the card The Groom's mom had sent to me to give to her. She grabbed the gift from her mom, and we headed into the restaurant. As we neared the entrance, she turned to me and said,


"I really shouldn't be carrying my own wedding gift, should I?"

and she handed it to me!!!!!! I struggled to remain upright.

"Oh, heh, right, I suppose not......" I mumbled from beneath a mountain of packages and winter garments that I hadn't even been able to put on, owing to my present status as wedding-gift-laden pack mule.

In we went. I unloaded. The Maid of Honor was there, and one other guest had arrived. I felt a bit of premature glee at the low attendance, and my credit cards exhaled in relief.

People trickled in over the next 30 minutes or so, and we wound up with about 7 guests, not counting me, The Maid, and The Bride. We kept a steady flow of food, and really not too many drinks because people didn't seem interested in the cans of PBR we'd provided.

Yep, that's right - PBR. Now, make no mistake, I like PBR. Most of my friends like PBR. But here's the deal - I had printed on the invitations that "hors d'ourves" (or however the hell you spell it) would be served, so that it was abundantly clear any alcohol was to be purchased by the guests themselves. Yes, I am well aware this is a shitty way to throw a party, but it was all the Maid and I could afford, being forced into having a restaurant party. By the way, I'd like to mention that I was mortified to throw this kind of obviously cheap-ass party - I can throw a fucking killer party at home, where I can cook and buy the alcohol myself. But I was not willing to effing beggar myself to satisfy the unreasonable demands of my increasingly cunty "friend."

So my policy, clear as could be, was NO ALCOHOL. Then we find out, The Bride demands we serve PBR and maybe another beer like Sweetwater. Sweetwater? Fuck that. It's $4 a bottle! And I already said I wasn't paying for any alcohol! RARRRRR!!!

So this, dear readers, is why we served PBR to nice professional middle-aged ladies at this ridiculous travesty of a "party."

The party progressed more or less pleasantly. We played the stupid "Who knows the Bride best?" game. I know it's not uncommon for people who win prizes to give their prizes to the bride, but it's certainly not a rule or standard as far as I know. Well. As I've already mentioned, I got one of those little sampler packs of Victoria's Secret lotion, stinky body spray, and shower gel for a prize. The nice lady who won it was Bride's Ex-Boss. Ex-Boss popped open a bottle and gave it a sniff, and then passed it around the table for every to have a smell. When it was the Bride's turn to take a whiff, what did she do?

She dropped it into her bag of gifts without batting an eye or saying a word!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ex-Boss graciously ignored this. I am fairly certain I managed to pick my jaw up off the floor before anyone noticed - not that it would have mattered if anyone besides The Bride noticed, and she certainly wouldn't have since she has lately been stricken oblivious to anything but herself.

Party continues, slightly boring, slightly awkward, and then people started to disperse. I heard one of the guests who had ordered a few glasses of wine pull the waitress aside and say she'd like to pay for her wine separately. My credit cards and I were delighted to see that people had gotten the hint about alcohol and were kindly covering their drinks.

Before the waitress could take the guest's card, however, The Bride intervened. "No, no, no, Guest!" she said.

"Ohh, no, I expected to pay for my wine, I want to," the wonderful, respectful guest replied. "Really!"

"NO, Guest," The Bride insisted, "Absolutely not. It's covered."

"Oh, um, well, okay," said Guest, clearly uncomfortable because HER MAMA TAUGHT HER BETTER THAN THAT.

Again, I collected my teeth from the floor and sat frozen in disbelief.

This would be a good place to note that the alleged credit card The Bride's mom had given her to help cover party expenses never materialized.

A little while later, I heard The Bride discussing with the remaining guests that her hairdresser would also be doing The Groom's hair. What? Why? He has long hair, but good lord! All he has to do is comb it or pull it back or something. Well, whatever, not my wedding. What do I care?

Oh, I soon found out why I care.

The Bride turned to and said, "Oh, and I have Hairdresser's card for you, so you can call him and set everything up."

What?!?!?! I had imagined after telling her I couldn't afford this outrageous party and still being forced into it, and also not having heard a peep about this hair business since originally discussing it, that I was off the hook! And now Hairdresser is doing The Groom's hair also?! Am I on the hook for that too?!

"Oh......er......okay," I replied.

The Maid and I went to settle up the total. The server told us that Ex-Boss had stealthily snuck and paid 1/3 of the total bill for us! What a dear! She was just about to walk out, so I trotted after her and quietly thanked her. She was so gracious about it, and I just thought she was so generous and nice. Good people. Her mama raised her up right, too.

I didn't tell The Bride that Ex-Boss had chipped in, but I just casually commented that I thought she was lovely and nice. "Yeah," The Bride replied. "When she's not being a huge bitch. I can't even believe she actually came. I guess someone made her."

Gahhhh!!!! Of all the ungrateful Bridezillary! I resisted the urge to slap the shit out of her.

After the party dispersed, The Maid and I suffered through a few drinks at the bar with The Bride, and The Bride's Neighbor. Neighbor has been her neighbor for like 10 years or something. He's total fucking drunkard, and apparently an impressively ill-informed asshole.

As The Bride and I shuffled through the photos of the party on my camera, she saw the photos from the Prop 8 protest the day before. We briefly discussed, and went along our beery way. Enter Neighbor and his intoxicated opinion.

"So you're against democracy, aren't you?" he slurred.

"Why, no, as a matter of fact, I'm not," I replied.

"Well, that law in California was passed by the voters! That's democracy! If you protest that, you protest democracy! You're trying to overturn democracy!"

"Perhaps you could think of it as part of the democratic process. Perhaps when there's another vote in the future, the protests against previous votes will have an influence the next time around," I explained reasonably.

"You want to overturn democracy!" he insisted.

"Okay," I said patiently. "You know, the majority once favored slavery and segregation. Do you think if we voted to resegregate, that'd be okay?"

"Well, no, of course not." He shrugged. "But that's democracy. You're the one in law school, aren't you?" For a moment he looked concerned that he might lose this battle of wits.

I sighed. "Yes, I am the one in law school, and okay, Neighbor." He continued talking to himself for a few minutes, and I ignored him as only a woman in a bar knows how.

A little while later, he tried again. "I bet you think Roe versus Wade is good law, dontcha?"

"I think it's currently the law, if that's what you mean by 'good' law," I answered.

"Well, I think it's bad law. I think the states should be able to decide! Don't you think states should decide?" he demanded.

"I wouldn't really consider myself a federalist, no," I said. He crinkled up his face, deep in beery thought.

"Well, I am! I am......that.....that you said," he blubbered.

"A federalist?" I asked.

"Yeah! A federalist!" he said, clearly pleased with himself and his expanded vocabulary.

"Okay," I said and reentered my mental Woman In A Hostile Bar cocoon.

Look what a nice lady I am. I taught an asshole a new vocabulary word, and I didn't even tell him to go fuck himself for trying to provoke me. I also didn't take out all my pent-up MATRON of honor frustration on him by stabbing him in the eyeball with one of my high heels. I am the picture of magnanimity and restraint. Miss Manners and Emily Post would be pleased with me, indeed.

At this point I finally excused myself, citing homework and studying, etc., and got the fuck out of there before my head exploded.
_______________________________________________

Oooooh, I forgot to tell you, I got my stupid MATRON dress. It has a bow on the back that must be amputated immediately. It is also about fifty sizes too big for me (how did this happen when they took my measurements?????), so it will require extensive (read: expensive) alterations.

Stay tuned. The wedding takes place December 21. I am sure there will be more to report.

MINOR UPDATE: Oh. I also forgot to tell you - that "free" Victoria's Secret giftcard I got - I left it in the bag at the restaurant. :( I hope the nice waitress found it and kept it.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dear Lorry, I do not believe that such people exist. I commend your restraint in not offing them posthaste. Yours sincerely, David.