Holy crap, I completely missed my centennial! Can't believe it's been 100 posts. What the hell have I been talking about all this time? Hopefully something entertaining.
Anyway, I'm on a tight time-restriction. Joe's on his way home from the studio and he insisted that since I used the excuse that I was too tired to watch x-Files last night, I couldn't use it again. I've therefore been ordered to write in the blog right now so we can watch an episode when he gets home.
So what to talk about? Well, I hate to keep beating a dead horse with this whole weddings and marriage thing, but Beck had a good suggestion for tonight's post. I was at work, hardly working, when I decided to check my email. Low and behold I had almost 13 new messages, all from the same 5 cousins. Apparently Beck had sent out a mass message to all of us asking what we were going to wear to our cousin Graham's wedding (which is taking place next weekend).
You ever see My Big Fat Greek Wedding? I know they are Greek, but when it comes to family matters, Greek and Irish are quite similar, especially when it comes to big events. Among the girls in the family, the question always comes around to, "what are you going to wear?" However, since I pretty much cashed in my femininity check a looong time ago, I was satisfied with just reading what everyone else was saying. (Seriously, I looked at pics of me at my cousin Kristen and Evan's wedding. Why I had opted for the pink, puffy, short dress, (at 25) I'll never know. Even my younger cousins looked more elegant than me, while I looked as awkward as a hippo in a tutu.)
In any event, Beck mentioned I should describe some of our family's past weddings as tonight's blog, but since time is a factor I shall relay my memories of the first wedding I really recall, a.k.a. Why I Don't Drink Midori Sours Anymore. Enjoy.
The first wedding I really recall was my cousin Rachel's. Hers was pretty momentous, as she was the first of all the cousins to make that big adult step, so we were thrilled. What was even more exciting was that she and her now husband Chris decided to do a destination wedding in Maine, a favorite family vacation spot for all of us. Linds and I joined Hill and her boyfriend in his car for the drive up, where we were given a full lesson on early Police songs. We all booked rooms in the same hotel in Portland, so we felt as if the hotel was all ours. Unfortunately there was some maintenance being done in some areas, so besides the occasional wall stain and odd buckets here and there, it was very charming.
Months earlier all the Dempsey sisters were a buzz with phone calls and long discussions on the beach consisting of who was wearing what to the wedding. So when the day finally arrived we were all running around each other's rooms, borrowing these earrings or that perfume (again, like My Big Fat Greek Wedding). This was also very momentous because this would be the first social gathering with my family in which I'd casually (and carefully) have a drink or two. But since we didn't want to piss the caterers off, we snuck a few small beverages in our hotel room after the ceremony. I was still a rookie in the drinking game, so I told my sister's boyfriend that I wanted something "easy". He brought out some Sour Watermelon Pucker, which we mixed with handy dandy Sprite. It tasted awesome, actually...in a super-sugary-yank-your-teeth-outta-your-head kinda way.
Anyway with our Pucker buzz goin we hit the reception. Everyone was dancing and laughing, having a wonderful time. At some point a waiter asked us what we'd like to drink. I'm pretty sure Beck and I exchanged glances. What were we supposed to say? We wanted something, but didn't want to suggest the wrong thing. We asked just for something sweet, at which point he brought us these Ecto-cooler neon Kermit green drinks. We took a sip and were relieved that it tasted similar to our Pucker drinks. We paraded around the reception feeling like such big shots, although I'm pretty sure we were deservedly mocked by our relatives.
The next day I felt like a hammer was being chucked out of my head from the inside. I stumbled over to the bathroom and noticed my face creased with makeup and my eyes bloodshot. I didn't recognize her at first, but I had just been introduced to Hungover Me. I felt the sickening sweetness of watermelon in the back of my throat and wanted to vomit. It was then that I vowed never to drink Midori Sours again.
We wished Rachel good luck with her future, sending off one of our own. And as I sat in the back of my sister's boyfriend's car, listening to "Canary in a Coalmine" for the 11th time that trip, I reflected on how quickly time goes by. If there ever was a moment when you can physically point to and say you've officially grown-up, marriage must surely be it. It was strange to see a direct cousin of ours make it to that particular moment. I could barely comprehend it, although what did I know? I was still a teenager, nursing my very first hangover, and vowing never to do something so stupid again. I stuck to that promise too...for a few years anyway.
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