Owie!

# Hours awake - 5
# Cups of coffee - 1
# Strawberry mimosas - 6

There were several different ways I wanted to start this one off (this being another one) so I decided to use them all. First of all, because of the jump in readership by 200%, I now actually have to start writing this on a regular basis. Bastards! Secondly, I want to say “Good Lord.” “Good Lord” is how I refer to an event that has taken everything out of me and left me a shell; a façade if you will; the remnants of what was once a person…me. Those two little words sum up the effect of the last coupld of days. Thirdly, AWWWWWWWWWW; my head is friggin killing me. I took the 10AM start time for the after wedding brunch literally and there I was, third to enter the door, head splitting in two. The strawberry mimosas helped but not completely. So now my head hurts and I'm tipsy… and it's 2 in the afternoon. Yeah. (notice the lack of an exclamation point).

So, the wedding. Weddings are weddings, for the most part. There's a bride, a groom and a couple of people flanking them in dresses they'll never wear again. The wedding was nice and the reception was nice as well. I find it hard to write about weddings because I always feel my sense of humor is in bad taste. I also realized a problem with writing a blog about people who read it – it really limits the amount of things you can write; that is assuming you want to stay friends with these people and for arguments sake, lets say that you do. I can give you some basic details however which I think will limit the reader to lost friend ratio.

Like Toyota and Honda before them, the parents created a hybrid of sorts: this one between Judaism and Protestantism. We had a little bit of everything without getting overly secular. I was kind of excited to see if the Rabi and Priest would get progressively louder, trying to over shadow the other until they both just flipped out and it turned into a religious battle-royal. Alas, they did not and the ceremony went smoothly as visions of cage matches and pile drivers danced in my head. God what I would have given for the Rabi to jump up on top of the Hopa (sp?), put his hand to is ear and ask the guests if they could smell what he was cooking.

There wasn’t a single fight. Not even one for the bouquet where you usually get some ripping or a black eye or two. Nope, just two people getting married, nice speeches, good food and plenty of booze. The morning after brunch was hard on us all but we survived if for no other reason than the collective happiness we all shared in being part of the event.

So to the Bride and Groom; good luck, much love and remember, if you ever find yourself in a bridal store in Marina del Rey, you are now Mr. and Mrs. Prince of Morocco.