November 13, 2011

15 Nov

I was a complete blackout wreck this weekend, and I hadn’t had this much fun since 5th year reunion.  It was my kitty MS’s wedding in DC, and I knew this weekend would be a shitshow.  This was also the first wedding I had ever been invited to just as a guest and not as a bridesmaid.  Up until now, I’ve either been in the weddings or disinvited from weddings.  I interpret this to mean people either love me or hate me, which sounds about right.  I’m touched to know there are still people out there who just plain like me.

The weekend already started out fantastic when I arrived to my hotel starving to find the best gift bag ever come to my rescue.  This was one serious gift bag — there was an entire bag of jelly bellies, and entire bag of Godiva chocolates, popcorn, cheese straws, granola bar, cheese crackers, 2 vitamin waters, 2 apples, 2 oranges etc etc etc!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gift Bag

I was so impressed.  After chomping into half that bag, I took a delicious 3 hour nap before getting ready for the ceremony at Halcyon House at Georgetown.

While being just a guest meant not having a bride tell me what dress to wear, how to do my hair, what earrings to bring, how much to drink, etc, it also meant not having anyone tell me when to be where and how, and I was completely lost.  I had no idea when I was supposed to arrive to the ceremony — was it acceptable to be fashionably late to these things?  Apparently not, according to all my other friends, unless I wanted to be caught creepily walking down the aisle next to the wedding party.  So of course I show up to the ceremony a good 20 minutes early, only to find that I am the only guest there early besides family.  Derrr…….

Well everyone else eventually arrived, a good 30 minutes fashionably late.  And it was a beautiful ceremony filled with my favorite Jewish traditions.  When the ceremony was done, cocktail hour began upstairs with some incredible butler style hors d’oeuvres, including lamb chops and a guac table.  Yes, a guac table.

GUAC TABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had never seen a guac table before and I was completely overwhelmed.  But at this point in the night I was more concerned with getting in line for the bar to get my scotch on the rocks to get the party started, my drink of choice at weddings (and the best part was that the bartenders were serving all the drinks in wine glasses, including my scotch on the rocks).

At the start of the reception we were all welcomed with the most exciting sign:


JUST LOOK AT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!  Unfortunately the multiple wine glasses full of pure scotch were kicking in by now, and all I remember are memories of “rearry dericious” with regards to the appetizer/dinner/dessert flights but no specific memory beyond that.  However, it’s comforting — and simultaneously disturbing — to know that apparently even in my most blackout-ness I always somehow remember to take pictures of everything I eat:

Appetizer Flight

Entree Flight

Dessert Flight

Beyond that, who the fuck knows what happened but it was a blast.  All I remember from the rest of the reception is getting super excited for the hora, the bride slipping off the chair during the hora (terrifying for a split second, but she was fine), screaming for joy when the band started playing Taylor Swift, dancing with more than one suitor exuberantly, and having one of the best nights I’ve had in a really long time.

Here’s what actually happened that night:

  • According to G, I was “falling all over the dance floor, flashing your undies countless times, eating other people’s desserts, and falling on the stairs… other than that, you were pretty normal.”
  • According to C, I was spitting like a true chink the entire night and getting in a seriously aggressive face slapping war with him.
  • According to W, I was “totally behaved at the wedding.  Everyone was having a good time jumping around on the dance floor.”

I didn’t really know whose story to believe since I have zero recollection, but I do vaguely remember falling on my ass at least 4-5 times throughout the night.  After the reception ended, I somehow miraculously made it to the after party where the bride and groom were still raging strong — what a champion couple.  I on the other hand didn’t make it long before I tripped over some poor girl, fell again on my ass, and then I knew it was time for me to go.  I guess it was no shocker that I left empty handed that night, or rather, empty pussied.  I passed out in my hotel bed only to be woken up at 4am to a text from NYC f buddy T (what a tease) to whom I explained my situation, and even he encouraged me to “Go find some dick.”  Appreciate the thought, but it didn’t happen.  Even W (who is a straight male with a girlfriend) got more numbers from dudes at the wedding than I did — apparently man dates and bromance were in.

The next morning I woke up at 7am to the worst splitting headache and nauseating feeling in my stomach.  I look over at the floor, and my beautiful silver heels look like they’ve murdered someone or something because they are covered in red stains.  Apparently when I fell over the girl at the after party, I brought down a glass of red wine with me and spilled it all over my shoes.  Either that or I was on the dance floor pouring wine into my shoes then pouring it back into the glass.  I wouldn’t put it past me.

Anyway, getting over the confusion of how my silver shoes were covered in wine and trying to piece together the night, I went to the bathroom where I puked some disgusting green liquid, which I at first thought was the spinach soup I had for lunch before the wedding ceremony, but yeah nope, nope, that was pure green bile.  After spending a few minutes worrying about the integrity of my esophageal lining and tooth enamel as a result of my alcoholimia, I quickly got over it, chugged 2 Execedrin with one of my vitamin waters, and I felt like a million bucks when I woke up 3 hours later.

I was starving and grateful that there was a post-wedding brunch at the Fairmont Hotel, which was an incred spread of everything I wanted — bagels and lox, plenty of breakfast meats, scrambled eggs, fruit, oatmeal, yogurt, etc etc.


I couldn’t believe how quickly the weekend had flown by, but it was seriously the most fun I’ve had in the longest time.  I was sad to say goodbye to all my kitties, but the “adventure” didn’t end there.  Like NYC, DC has some really odd cab drivers, and I unfortunately got one of them on my way back to Union Station.  I hop in and the driver is this huge fat black guy with dreads who looks like he’s been smoking and selling pot since he was born, who tells me “Welcome, welcome aboard!”  What.  What a creep.  I smell something sweet, and I look behind me, and the rear window is literally a shrine to creepy bobble heads with baskets full of blow pops, to which he points and tells me, “Take one!  Make yourself at home!”  I was slightly terrified I was actually going to get raped in this cab, and not in the good way.

Luckily I made it safely and un-raped to the bus station, where I took the Bolt Bus back to home sweet NYC, where I was hoping to get back in time for my Sunday night TV since my bus left at 1:30pm.  Somehow with Veteran’s Day traffic, it ended up taking 7 hours — yes, 7 hours — to get back home.  After the frustration of the unacceptably long bus ride and all my pent up tension from not getting laid at the wedding, I was grateful that T was back in NYC on Sunday to be there for me in this time of need.  I was glad I was able to close this epic weekend with a bang.

This morning’s walk of shame was never filled with more soreness — my body was covered with bruises from my multiple falls on the dance floor/stairs/bar, my feet were all blistered from the hours of insane dancing in 5 inch heels, and I couldn’t move my neck from the wedding aftermath.  A true sign of an amazing weekend.  Congrats M & J!!!

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