It feels like last weekend didn't happen, really. It feels too surreal; like I'll wake up and Christy and Nate won't be married and all of my adventures with Joe were mere figments of my imagination.
But
it did. Thank GOD.
I left last Thursday. Christy lives in the middle of nowhere, downstate-Michigan, USA. It takes about a gabillion hours to drive there. And it takes even longer when the mechanics who are merely supposed to fix minor fender bender bumps find a gushing transmission leak. Charming. Happy birthday to me. Christy called at 11ish and asked for my status. I burst into tears and launched into a "I just want to be on the rooooo-oooad and b-be-eee there with youuu-uuuu!!!" spiel. Luckily the leak was fixed fast enough and I was on the road by noon--only three hours later than I wanted to be. Charming.
Friday and Saturday were a blur of wedding preparations and festivities. The highlights of Friday were when Nate-the-groom (his new official name) opened the fire exit door that set off an ear-splitting alarm and sent the kitchen staff running while he sat there with a Gump-ified expression on his face. And then? Later at the church? He broke the entrance door...simply by walking through it. Poor guy. The other highlight of Friday was the rehearsal dinner because, sweet JESUS!!! The food was amazing. Nate's dad is a caterer for an upscale deli so he brought huge trays of deli meats and gourmet cheeses and hoards and hoards!! of bread. (I'm salivating as I write this because I'm so damn hungry. I can guarantee I have nothing that good in my fridge.)
There was the cutest moment during the dinner. Julie, Christy's sister was sitting next to a little kid--a friend of the family or something. The following conversation is real:
Little Kid: how old are you?
Julie: I'm 19. How old are you?
Little Kid: (ignores the question and instead gets a huge grin on his face) Wow! You can use the phone then!
Julie: Yes, yes I can.
Little Kid: Wow! I wish I could use the phone...but I can't. You know why? Because you have to be "18 or older to call."
Saturday was perfect, absolutely perfect. It began really early, even though the ceremony wasn't until 4. We were at the hair salon by 9. I thought that was dumb because I didn't think my hair would withstand any hairstyle for more than 4 hours. I. Was. WRONG. The hairstylist/genius/sadistic hair-nazi who did my hair managed to get it into an updo complete with cute little curls. Wheee! It only took 65 bobby pins and half a gallon of hairspray. The skin around my scalp and face was so taught--if more people got professional updos, they wouldn't need Botox, I guarantee it. I readily endured it because it was up! And cute! And ringletted!
The day flew. One moment we were in the salon, snapping pictures and laughing, the next we were lining up to march down the aisle and fighting not to cry. It was futile--I cried. Not that that's any surprise. I managed to not cry until the line-up; that's when it hit me that one of my most beloved friends was about to devote her life to her soul-mate. It was beautiful. As was the ceremony and reception.
And at the end of the reception I got to play with sparklers. That rocked.
And I cannot WAIT to see the professional pictures. The photographer was great. We went to a park in Hillsdale to do a photo shoot post-wedding. We all felt like models. I felt like we were shooting an ad for perfume. It felt glamourous, it felt surreal--it was fabulous. I am such a picture whore.
On Sunday I drove to Detroit to visit Joe, my beloved best gay friend/gay fiance'. I got lost on the way there when I went on 75 North instead of 75 South. My bad. I thought no problem, just get off at the next ramp and find the ramp for 75 South--no sweat. In theory that would have worked. But this is Krissy-World and nothing is ever easy in Krissy-World. The ramp to 75 South was closed for construction. Motherfuckerasslickerfuckfuckfuck!!! I decided to drive and see if I could find another exit. Instead I ended up near the ghettos of Detroit. Calling Joe proved to be no help, so I pulled up to a hotel, where the clerk was a million more times more helpful than Joe's incessant cries of "just turn down there and see!"
Luckily, we were soon reunited. The afternoon was a blur of picnics, shopping and more fabulous food. The night was capped off with karaoke at a gay bar. I'll repeat that: karaoke at a gay bar. It was sheer heaven--the fusion of two of my favorite things. Karaoke! Gay men! Wheee!
Here's a tip--if you suck at karaoke, do NOT karaoke at a gay bar. Those damn charming gay men can SING. And belt out in keys I've never even heard of. Dammit.
Joe and I sang "Holding out for a Hero." And then the DJ wouldn't let us back up. I can't help it that I'm a tone-deaf girl. What I lack in talent, I make up for in charisma and gusto, right? Right?
All in all, the weekend was completely perfect. I didn't want to leave. But I did. And now I'm here. And I have to clean. Lots. And launder my clothes. Ugh.
And here's a friendly reminder to my compandres around Marquette. Tomorrow! Tomorrow is el birthday bash-o! Batton down the hatches and prepare for a night of fabulous-ness.
Squee!
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~