Man, I am weddinged OUT, y'all. And there're still two to go. Joel's best friend Steve got married yesterday, and the dance went super-late, and I was looking through my pictures trying to find a fabulous one or think of a funny story to tell you, but nothing really happened. Joel stabbed himself in the nipple with his boutenierre. One of the guests had a few too many and tried to kiss me, but I got my forearms up between us and hollered 'Stranger Danger!' until he realized that I actually wasn't going to kiss him back. The tailor who altered the boys' pants and made the girls' dresses made everything too tight, and so Joel ripped the seat of his pants sitting down and none of the girls could zip their dresses up, and they had to do them up with safety pins. Joel looked hot anyways (see far right).
Steve and Amber named the tables after things they like instead of numbering them, and we were table Mexico, so we made a Corona Man 
(I had to spell 'Corona' like, eight times before it looked right). The mashed potatoes tasted like Kraft Dinner, but totally in a good way. There was kareoke. Matt Street knows all the words to every song ever written. This baby looked like an old man, and I wanted to hold him, but he was fussy and I didn't know his parents and even at a wedding, that's kind of weird.
Weddings are exciting and all, but somehow after you go through the whole ordeal of planning your own wedding, and then you attend five more, with two more coming hard and fast, you start to lose that sense of wonder. Yay, married, awesome! I'm tired, and would like a nap and some chips. And maybe to hold that baby.
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