My Big, Fat, Gay Wedding

Please excuse the long absence, dear readers, but I am still digging out from my sister's wedding in California last weekend. Having to leave the kids for four days, three days after they began school, with all the emergency-form-signing-which-door-are-they-dismissed-from-the-teacher-needs-another-binder-by-tomorrow that includes, was a bit crazy. But wonderful.

And since I am not completely out of the hole yet (I still have to plan and organize my first Girls Scout meeting of the year, which might be earning their Rub Your Leaders Feet and Bring Her More Wine Badge), I will again distract you from my lack of writing with photos. I promise, this nonsense will stop as of next week when all the laundry has been done, the house has been cleaned or eighteen six year-olds have earned their Clean Your Leader's House Badge.

So for those of my readers who are not close friends and family (I love you the best since you are not obligated to read due to interrogations over the dinner table), here are some snaps
from the weekend.

I am allowing my sister her privacy and not posting any of her and her wife Chrissy, but let my assure you, they were both glowing and looked amazing in their white suits.

The first picture is of The World's Funniest Cake Topper. My sister and her wife actually do look like Marcy and Peppermint Patty, so each and every guest snarfed their wine upon seeing this atop the cake. This is the cake I drunkenly ate four pieces of before Tony carried me out to the car.

The second picture is of me, trying not to have a panic attack, waiting for them to come down the aisle. I look all serene, but really I am thinking, "Don't throw up, don't pass out." The ceremony went smoothly and their recessional - Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" was the bomb.

The third picture I put in purely to show how hot my boyfriend is, since you all know he's not my husband at weddings, but my boyfriend. His dancing was a bit stifled though since he was surrounded by gay fabulousness that almost intimidated me off the dance floor. I don't think there was enough vodka in the world to get him on the dance floor during RuPaul's "Supermodel". And don't we look all grown-up and shit? I remember when going to weddings meant wearing some dress I usually wore to sorority formals and hoping there was a drunk bus to the hotel.

So it will be back to business as usual next week come hell or high water. I am back in work gear, back in my yoga pants and baseball cap, but damn, I think that huge brooch I was wearing goes with any outfit.

*And screw you Blogspot, since I have no idea why the format I see during "Post Preview" looks all normal and upon being published, it looks like I put the text and photos in a blender. Whatever.