Ding Dong the Witch Will Wed

It's lost. And I don't know when. Or where or. How or why but it's. Lost. And in case your wondering whether I am speaking of house keys or my green stripy sock or my camera lens or my mind. Let me assure you that. None of those things are lost.

Well...I'm not certain about the mind. But aside from that everything else is where it should be. The lost item that I speak of is my ability to bullshit anyone anytime anywhere. I realize this is shocking. You might be afraid. Please do not delay. Send your love and support in the form of a new or slightly used cash donation.

Seriously. No wait. I WAS being serious. So yeah. I need your help. Your help. You. Over there. Get up off your ass. Help me damnit!

Let me explain.

So. I'm going to be in a wedding.

Yes.

Me.

In a wedding.

Stop laughing.

I said stop.

One of my oldest friends is getting married. We have known each other for almost twenty years. Since freshman year high school Spanish. My friend continues to reside in the town I grew up in. The town I have not visited in many many years. And my dear friend has decided to get married in July. July in Connecticut.

When she first told me of this decision I was not at all pleased. "October is lovely" I encouraged. But July it would be. And I decided that it couldn't possibly be that bad. I would find something presentable to wear. Don my combat boots and trek east for what is bound to be the most chaotic dramatic Guinea-Dirty White Boy Chicken wedding in the history of weddings. Her side of the family is crazy. His side is certifiable. I would attend said event with the appropriate accoutrements and delight in the amusement of it all. Even thought I would surely melt in the process.

But then something happened. Something unexpected. My dear friend who I thought for sure loved me like family...scratch that. My dear friend who I thought loved me like someone else's family asked me to be in her wedding. No semi cool dress. No combat boots. No watching from the shadows. Fuck!

I am not the "being in a wedding type" of grrrl. Until recently my hair was the color of a fire engine. My lips are usually donned with an almost black smear of paint. And now my friend is asking me to don something that will no doubt be pastel in color and girly in nature and ask me to walk a straight line which I cannot even do sober and there is no way I could maintain any sense of sobriety for this event. Fuck me!

But wait. All was not lost. I had a plan.

I would find a way to get out of it. So I sent this lovely email to said friend telling her how much I love and support her and explaining all of the very good reasons why I would not make a good bridesmaid. I tried to convince my dear friend that she did not want me to be a bridesmaid. I tried to convince her that I would be the worst bridesmaid in the history of bridesmaids.

For example. My hair could return to its former fire engine red state. Or perhaps blue. Maybe green. I might very well be tattooed from head to toe by July. I could have multiple facial piercings.

And no I will not discuss the nose piercing incident of 1994.

Seriously. The families would freak and that would cause my dear friend unnecessary stress and I want her wedding to be as stress free as possible which seems rather unlikely given the circumstances as they currently exist. I explained that I could love and support her without being a member of the bridal party.

And really. Why do they call it a party. When I think of bridal party I think of scary drunk clowns.

I told my friend that I was merely looking out for her interests. I could trip and fall and take down the entire bridal party with me. See above comment regarding my coordination or lackthereof. I might almost faint like I almost fainted during my friend's LEEP procedure. I could have a relapse of THE WHOOPING COUGH and vomit on myself and the other bridesmaids.

I am a time bomb waiting to explode.

I explained all of this and more.

She didn't buy it.

Basically she said something to the effect of:

FUCK YOU BITCH IF I HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH THIS SHIT SO DO YOU

Well...she didn't exactly say that. But that is basically how I interpreted her response.

So uh. Your humble narrator will in fact be donning a real dress with real shoes and participating in the very real wedding of my dear friend of twenty years. Did I mention that said wedding will be taking place in Connecticut...in July? Yes. Connecticut in July. If you have never been to Connecticut in July let me explain what I must endure in addition to the above.

First. It will be hot. The average temperature in Connecticut in July is twice as hot as the average temperature in hell when Satan is only relatively pissed off. That my friends is shitdamnmotherfucking hot.

Second. It will be humid. This means that although the average temperature will be twice as hot as the average temperature in hell when Satan is only relatively pissed off. It will feel as if it is ten times as hot as the hellish average or twice as hot as hell on a day in which Satan is particularly pissed.

Third. Where there is heat and humidity there are bugs. Bugs that like to eat people. I am a people.

To recap in the event that you passed out or fell asleep or got distracted or weren't paying attention. I will be in Connecticut in July sweating and scratching in some sort of shimmery fabric dress and probably heels. Some friend huh!

My friend has lived her entire life in Connecticut. So I had to ask. Why July? You will be happy to know that the reason she will not be having her wedding in October when Connecticut is absolutely delightful is that my dear friend has decided July is most appropriate in order for the bride and groom to remember when exactly they got hitched. Seven days after his birthday. Seven days before her birthday. No. I am not kidding.

So I'm stuck. Committed. And you must be painfully aware of how serious my commitment issues are by now. Seriously dudes I mean my longest committed relationship is about...uh...nevermind. Back to our story. So. Given that I am now about to be a bridesmaid which I am most certain has far too many sexist origins than I could ever handle I might as well have fun with it.

I'm already thinking about ways in which to spike the punch!