I got up on Cosmopolitans and Grey Goose, and taking Tequila shots with the father of the groom. Holding my friends close as the families made speeches. Dancing all night to Sean Paul and Missy Elliot, putting my hands on Lucy’s hips and teaching her how to move her ass. Shannon already knew.
Feeling so high in the cab back home, Taylor’s head wrapped in a jacket, resting on my shoulder.
I was wearing a Givenchy tie and the black suit my parents bought me for job interviews. We all looked so beautiful. Merit with her hair down, Matt standing so tall in his bow tie and suspenders. I remember hugging those guys all night. I remember putting my arm around Tracy as Ken Bernamoff was giving his daughter away. I was imagining Tracy’s wedding, someday, to that boy I love.
I remember taking the cab home, watching the traffic cones blur into infinity. I remember walking drunk-ass Taylor up the stairs, and sitting myself down on the way out. I was 20 stairs up, watching the occasional car hum down St. Hubert. The night was chill and my wool jacket hung warm over my shoulders. Looking at a photo of a beautiful girl. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Her lips are like flower petals. Her eyes open like clouds. Thinking about her so much it makes my head spin. Thinking about her so much it makes my heart open. Which…. scares the shit out of me. Wedding are like funerals in that you’re like, shit, who’s next?
I love my friends. I love weddings. I have to go to work tomorrow.
Last time I got blitzed, I told myself I would never drink again, but I forgot I had to go to a wedding AND a baby shower in one fuckin weekend. Tell me how to get through that hell sober. You can’t, you just gotta lime and roll with it.
If you’re a guy, you don’t dig what this means for women -we have to not only to go to every wedding and shower that we’re invited to, but we gotta enjoy it too. Well, fuck that. While Lanta’s back at the crib watchin t.v. and blowin trees I’m forced into this, alone.
We’re engaged, but not married yet so we don’t have any kids and we’re happy about it, going to a baby shower is like having a piranha , i.e. it’s painful. These things are sure to happen:
1. Many annoying, hummin hags will ask you, “So when are YOOOOOOOOOOU going to have a baby? Hmmm?”, as they give you that look over the tops of their glasses. Then they shake their heads when you tell them, “I’d rather dip my dome in acid then have my coochie ripped open by a head the size of a pumpkin right now, thank you.”
2. You have to play stupid games like “Decorate Someone with Toilet Paper”, or “The Clothespin Game”. If you’re a woman, you know what I’m talkin about. If you’re a guy, get down on both knees and thank God you’ve got a dick.
3. You have to eat finger sandwiches. Ok, the showers are usually at lunch time, so I want real food. I don’t want watercress and air sandwiches with a side of jordan almonds, aight?
4. You have to sit while she sloooowly opens 5000 presents, each one will be held up for everyone to see. Word to the wise, don’t drunkenly yell out, “That headband is gonna make your daughter look like she has a garter on her head and is goin to a baby prom.” This is frowned upon.
5. You have to sit through hours of what I like to call “Delivery Horror Story Porn”. This is where every mom at the shower or wedding with chips on they shoulders will give you the story of all their kids in 3D Technicolor. “I tore from front to back! 35 stitches!” “I had a placenta the size of a dog!” “My kid was stuck for 72 hours, she had a conehead!” “My boobs started sagging after I stopped nursing and now they look like windsocks!” When they see the look of disgust on your face, they will try to tell you that – “It’s a beautiful thing!” “You forget the pain!” “You will never understand anything in this world or be a complete person unless you experience it!” As much as you try to fade them all you can’t so yeah, I can’t wait til I have kids.
It’s a good thing they have alcohol at weddings, but they should have alcohol at baby showers too. Since it’s not, make sure you bring your flask. I’m down with watchin the Dolphins lose for the millionth time, but since I’m female, I’m sure I’ll have to go to many more weddings and showers.
“I’d rather dip my dome in acid then have my coochie ripped open by a head the size of a pumpkin right now, thank you.â€
How ironic that your nom de plume should be Baby Z!
Jack, you have a Point there bra…………………