Weddings...Gotta Love 'Em
Last weekend, my brother got married. I love the bride, loved seeing family and loved meeting new people, but I do not love the scar on my arm from WWF wrestling in the hotel bar/lobby/hallways.
Out of control. That is all I have to say about the events of the wedding weekend. Really, I don't even know where to begin...let's take it from the top.
Thursday, October 13th
This was the big day. All of my family was arriving from Canandaigua, NY to witness the marriage of my brother. For most people, seeing family does not normally cause feelings of social angst, but this is me we're talking about. Plus, the last time I saw one of my uncles he had a burnt sausage on a stick and asked, "What does that remind you of Martha Mary?"
I started out early at the bar with my other brother, Chester, and met up with a couple of his college friends.
These guys are not just friends, they are more like 12, 30 something year old men that have a true affinity for each other. They flew in from Scotland, Canada and all over America to see my brother on his big day (mostly because they all had wagers on whether or not he would actually make it to the alter). I've always been the little sister. One of the Scots told my brother that he couldn't wait till I was 18...I was 11 at the time (is this a compliment?).
Anyway, I knew it was going to be a long day when we started drinking 16 ounce Miller Lites at a sports bar. Surprisingly, I was attempting to hold out until that night, but my husband actually started drinking before me! People, this happens like once every two years. I decided if I couldn't beat him, I may as well join him!
After three 16 ounces later, Chester takes us to the hotel to check in. I was in the drunk phase where I really don't think I'm wasted. I think I can hold a conversation without imperfection. I proceeded to inquire whether or not any of the other Finnick's (my side of the family) had checked in. The nice gentlemen at the front desk told me the room numbers and after we dropped off the luggage in our room, I practically kicked in all the doors of my family member's rooms.
My uncle David was rearing to go. It was like he had been saving up his drinking tokens for months to spend them on this trip. He set a reservation for all of us to eat at Outback Steak House. Thank goodness we got there in time for a few happy hour drinks. There were eight of us, including my 16 year old cousin, Ryan, who was a little kid the last time I saw him.
What is it with kids these days? The only thing my cousin could do for the first five hours was text page on his phone, which pretty much pissed me off. The only reason he stopped was because I wouldn't stop giving him shit... and I physically separated the phone from his hands.
I assumed that he was feeling a little overwhelmed being thrown into a situation like this.
And, class, what do I do when I feel overwhelmed? DRINK!!
I yelled at his dad across the table, "Hey, Uncle Steve, can I get Ryan shit faced?" The reaction from everyone was like the proverbial record player coming to a screeching halt. Everyone at the table looked to my uncle for his reaction. He said very cautiously, "I want Ryan to have a good time."
Great! Green light and full steam ahead!
Ryan refused to drink in front of his dad, so I waited until we got to back to the hotel, stole a key from my dad (who always has an ample supply of Stoli's vodka) and made him take about three shots (or double shots?...I can't recall). By the end of the night, he was ordering from the bar and drinking side by side with his dad.
I'm so glad I can bring family together.
Also that night, my husband did something completely uncharacteristic...he got wasted. I'm talking droopy eyed, slurring words and kissing uncles on the cheeks. He even went so far as to discover a "secret" ballroom by the hotel bar and started to do back flips. He's really athletic sober, even mildly drunk. But shit faced is another story. On one of his back flip attempts, he misjudged his footing and landed right on his face. At the time, I was busy WWF-ing and only recall noticing him laying on the floor.
The next morning, however, was a different story. He awoke with his head hurting and rightly so because his forehead was completely covered with a gigantic rug burn. I don't even know if I could manage to do that.
I awoke with soreness covering my entire body. I discovered a multitude of bruises, bumps and rug burns... and I didn't even get laid.
Out of control. That is all I have to say about the events of the wedding weekend. Really, I don't even know where to begin...let's take it from the top.
Thursday, October 13th
This was the big day. All of my family was arriving from Canandaigua, NY to witness the marriage of my brother. For most people, seeing family does not normally cause feelings of social angst, but this is me we're talking about. Plus, the last time I saw one of my uncles he had a burnt sausage on a stick and asked, "What does that remind you of Martha Mary?"
I started out early at the bar with my other brother, Chester, and met up with a couple of his college friends.
These guys are not just friends, they are more like 12, 30 something year old men that have a true affinity for each other. They flew in from Scotland, Canada and all over America to see my brother on his big day (mostly because they all had wagers on whether or not he would actually make it to the alter). I've always been the little sister. One of the Scots told my brother that he couldn't wait till I was 18...I was 11 at the time (is this a compliment?).
Anyway, I knew it was going to be a long day when we started drinking 16 ounce Miller Lites at a sports bar. Surprisingly, I was attempting to hold out until that night, but my husband actually started drinking before me! People, this happens like once every two years. I decided if I couldn't beat him, I may as well join him!
After three 16 ounces later, Chester takes us to the hotel to check in. I was in the drunk phase where I really don't think I'm wasted. I think I can hold a conversation without imperfection. I proceeded to inquire whether or not any of the other Finnick's (my side of the family) had checked in. The nice gentlemen at the front desk told me the room numbers and after we dropped off the luggage in our room, I practically kicked in all the doors of my family member's rooms.
My uncle David was rearing to go. It was like he had been saving up his drinking tokens for months to spend them on this trip. He set a reservation for all of us to eat at Outback Steak House. Thank goodness we got there in time for a few happy hour drinks. There were eight of us, including my 16 year old cousin, Ryan, who was a little kid the last time I saw him.
What is it with kids these days? The only thing my cousin could do for the first five hours was text page on his phone, which pretty much pissed me off. The only reason he stopped was because I wouldn't stop giving him shit... and I physically separated the phone from his hands.
I assumed that he was feeling a little overwhelmed being thrown into a situation like this.
And, class, what do I do when I feel overwhelmed? DRINK!!
I yelled at his dad across the table, "Hey, Uncle Steve, can I get Ryan shit faced?" The reaction from everyone was like the proverbial record player coming to a screeching halt. Everyone at the table looked to my uncle for his reaction. He said very cautiously, "I want Ryan to have a good time."
Great! Green light and full steam ahead!
Ryan refused to drink in front of his dad, so I waited until we got to back to the hotel, stole a key from my dad (who always has an ample supply of Stoli's vodka) and made him take about three shots (or double shots?...I can't recall). By the end of the night, he was ordering from the bar and drinking side by side with his dad.
I'm so glad I can bring family together.
Also that night, my husband did something completely uncharacteristic...he got wasted. I'm talking droopy eyed, slurring words and kissing uncles on the cheeks. He even went so far as to discover a "secret" ballroom by the hotel bar and started to do back flips. He's really athletic sober, even mildly drunk. But shit faced is another story. On one of his back flip attempts, he misjudged his footing and landed right on his face. At the time, I was busy WWF-ing and only recall noticing him laying on the floor.
The next morning, however, was a different story. He awoke with his head hurting and rightly so because his forehead was completely covered with a gigantic rug burn. I don't even know if I could manage to do that.
I awoke with soreness covering my entire body. I discovered a multitude of bruises, bumps and rug burns... and I didn't even get laid.
posted by Martha | 8:41 AM
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