An alcoholic howdy do to you all,
First off, I must confess, I am bloody hungover. As my constant readers will know, I don’t drink. But I went to a wedding last night. Two Tia Maria and cokes, one cowboy shot and two vodka and lemon squashes absolutely shattered me. I would have had another shot but the bar policy was no shots after 10pm (C’mon, barkeep, I just left my husband and kids in the hotel room and it’s only quarter past…). Never, ever again.
So here’s my list. Because.. well… I like lists.
Wedding Are Best When…
* Things are colorful. Bridesmaids in a rainbow of colours and table decos to match make for bright and cheerful all round, no matter the venue.
*The ceremony is short, sweet and simple. Especially if you’re all standing, in the great, sun-burny, mozzie infested Aussie outdoors or, heaven forbid, in a church. Catholics need not apply.
*The speeches are short, sweet and tasteful. Without mentions of toilets seats, ex partners, or family feuds. Tears are appropriate, but only for the bride, and only so much as she does not run her mascara. Beware of drunken idiots grabbing the mike.
*The DJ suffers Repressed Clown Syndrome. And is prepared to don a green wig and do the Funky Chicken with all the guests under the age of 13, over the age of 65, or anyone between those ages with a bellyful of grog.
*People dance. Not just the oldies, and not just the littlies, and not just the chicks wearing mini skirts dancing a circle. Weddings and primary school discos are the only times you can get groovy to the Macarena, Hey Mickey and the Grease MegaMedley.
*People drink. Including the oldies.Not enough to get messy, vomit or get their staunch on, but enough to talk to people they normally wouldn’t, laugh at stupid things, and take their shoes off by 11pm. If you’re really lucky, someone will react the aforementioned Grease MegaMedley, complete with ‘Travolta does childbirth’ face.
No One Likes….
*Bubble skirts on bridesmaids. ‘Nuff said.
*Stupid people calling out stupid things during equally stupid speeches. Shut up, groom’s brother. I don’t care how many drinks you’ve scabbed from the bar by pretending they were for the bridal party- you shush now. I can’t hear the brides pissed uncle reading the list of ‘Rules For Marriage’ he printed off a forwarded email after removing most of the vulgarities.
*Brides with ciggies. *Ahem* *Cough (in that icky smokers way)*. Yep, that me in the piccie. I’m a classy broad.
*The Bowlo courtesy bus as the getaway car. And the farewell is the bride pulling open the door to the smoker’s balcony and screeching “Honey, fucking hurry up. The last courtesy bus is about the leave”. (Yep, unfortunately, I’m quite serious about that one).