the Ether Bunny (ninjalicious) wrote,
the Ether Bunny
ninjalicious

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The Girl Who Ran Away With The Circus is married. Holy fucking shit.

I can never get event entries down right. I forget this and that, little elements that I considered important as they happened, and the more I realize I'm forgetting or misplacing, the more I tell myself to put it off till my head is clearer. Next thing I know it's a week later, and I think I really have to nail it to make the postponement worthwhile. Then it's a month later, and I regret having never said anything at all. Trips.. I spend a week away and only write about one day. Concerts.. I say I went and I'll write more later, and maybe there's half a paragraph stashed in a private () entry that I'm supposed to work on some other time. Weddings.. well. I'm giving up attempting to wrangle out a comprehensive depiction of wemble's wedding. I'm spewing all I can now, with the high probability of editing in more later. (And now I can delete that half a paragraph I wrote the day after..)


Getting up was not so hard, the stress of getting it right was enough to toss me out of bed with nary a snooze alarm. I half expected dreams of waking up late or having gone about my day, wedding forgotten, as I used to have prior to things I needed to do. I woke up remembering nothing beyond falling alseep, however.


Getting our hair done was fun in that completely frivolous way. Sitting around in sweats and bdu's while our hair and makeup was being tricked out. I got the last stylist, who happened to be an excellent match.. Back and forth it was "Thank you for letting me do this to your hair!" and "Thank you for doing this to my hair!" Driving to the church with every hair in place and everyone's makeup done in the misty morning rain was a feat. I felt particularly accident prone, leaning forward and driving brake-heavy, trying not to mush my hair against the seat.


In the church, some of us dove into our dresses and some postponed and primped until the last minute. No one's sticky-bras worked, and I was relieved I bought the cheapest failure I'd seen. (My version was just the thin, stretchy fabric with a sticky, peel-off back. 100% support free, with a wrinkly surface. Sweet!!) Wemble looked adorable in her under-dress emsemble, and I personally thought the photographer (a friend, not hired) should have taken a few pics.. she was completely covered, and it's not like they need to go in the album.. just for her and for Andy, or something.


"If I trip, wait for me."

"Are you kidding? If you trip I'm gonna run for it! 'Man down!!'"

Somehow, we all managed to make it to the front of the church upright.


The sermon/service/that speech the chick in the robe gave was excellent. The rev was upity, friendly, sociable, and caring, and conveyed this in her presentation. Nothing she said sounded stale or rehearsed.. even the prayers sounded spoken in the moment, despite being standard iterations. Not to mention she compared marriage to role playing, and elaborated on this theme instead of giving their interests a simple nod then moving on to customary material.


Reception: In another wing of the church, no booze, brunch fare, piano player instead of DJ.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd have assumed (if I'd given it any thought before we sat down) sitting at the long table in front of everyone. In fact, comfort and feeling natural abounded. I don't know if it was that we were technically in a church, with caterers, or that I was part of the wedding party, or some less tangible element, but I felt completely at ease. Similar to the sensations on mushrooms, those certain points where I realized I was feeling comfortable struck me more than the feeling itself. (See, the thing is, you know how a lot of people feel about hospitals? That they don't want to go no matter what, try to keep from visiting people, won't check themselves in when they're hurt, etc etc because just being in a hospital creeps them the fuck out? I feel that way about catering halls. Especially at weddings. The Alien Crowd aspect is intensified. Everyone is Sunday-best-dressed and someone's family. Connected. The caterers who know. (Like when you're high, and someone looks at you, and you just think "They know.") The feeling of being 100% out of place. Catering and reception halls.. people in suits and suit-dresses.. frightening.)


Some friends stepped up to sing them a song, during the toasting phase.

"Look at the piano player"

"Huh?"

"Not the one playing now, the one who was playing before."

He was standing against the wall by the piano, eyes closed, hands twitching spasmolytically and mouthing along to the lyrics. We laughed and laughed. Later, we found out he was blind. It's ok, I'm going to Blind Hell, but they're low on the waiting list.

The brother of the groom's toast/speech brought me to teary-eye-ed-ness. It also made me like my friend's husband a lot more.


I was antsy for a while about going to Brothx0r, Sindalee, and Sensitive Artist's table, because of everything between me and SA and I felt like forcing him into an uncomfortable public situation would be jerky. (And uncomfortable!) But I couldn't not hang with Sindalee and my bro. It was so awkward, he hardly said anything any time I was around. I felt like I was invading on their unit. I felt weird when I looked at him, and weird when I looked away. And weird to not say anything, other than a half-spoken "bye" at the end of the afternoon. When meetzemonsta's b/f found us all outside, and complained that he didn't feel like a member, SA said "You're a member. You're a big member.".. Brothx0r and I burst out laughing. That's the only thing I remember him saying all day.

All of us standing around behind the church so the smokers can get their smoke on, and suddenly Brothx0r makes a run for his car. In the trunk he has a chill-box with beer and rum and soda. And cups. And a boombox on top of the car playing Belle and Sebastian, while we stand around drinking pumpkin beer, deciding if we like it and for how long. The only thing that would have improved the scene is if wemble would have joined us, chillin' out back drinking beer in her wedding dress.


I went home without changing. Partially because I can, partially because I will, and partially because Oh yeah well fuck you too. I told Ms. Zemonsta I'm going to take to wearing the dress around the house.


I can't imagine what I've forgotten for now or left out. All of the spite, definately. But perhaps that's better segregated into a seperate entry. Oh!! That blind guy did a fucking excellent rendition of some Barry White song! Can't forget that! He was pretty damned skilled, really. Also, the rev wore suitpants to the rehersal. In case anyone was wondering.
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