A certain member of my family, who will remain nameless mainly because I LOVE her very much, and also because I'm already in trouble...Well, this person decided to get married over the weekend to a man who has a family who has never been housebroken...I guess that's the nicest way to put it...Not all of his family...just his mom Boozy, her sister Floozy, her other sister, Loser, and the other cousin, Maggot Breath...OH! And Maggot's idiot girlfriend...
Now, I have been shielded from this idiot family for years by my sainted husband whose name I refuse to mention although it wouldn't matter since he never reads my blog...But this weekend our families came together in only a way that could have included 3 cops, 2 forest rangers, and the proverbial cherry on top...a$$ whupping...And it all started when I, (yes me...I had finally had had enough at the reception and politely asked Maggot's girlfriend to leave, in a real quiet, hushed, polite sort of way...in front of the entire wedding bridal party while one of the groomsmen was making a speech...)
Her name, I later found out (when I filled out the police report) was Cirrhosis Liver...Now, what finally yanked my admittedly short chain was her throwing a beach ball at one of the speakers...and heck yeah, his speech had gone on a little bit too long, and it was dry, but that could've been because it was a "dry wedding"...NO BOOZE ALLOWED... Not that it mattered to Maggot, Cirrhosis and a few other members of this family, they got around the "dry wedding" part by coming to the wedding drunk, and astonishing to me--although I admired their dedication to the non-sobriety cause--stayed consistently drunk for four hours...that's right...they were solidly drunk for four hours...Not once did any of them appear to sober up in even the tiniest degree...(I, I am but an amateur to these people, I can do about a half hour of slurred speech, followed by about 20 minutes of banging into chairs and once, I was so drunk, I was actually able to strap on a pair of six inch heels--crazy, I know!--and walk around for a brief minute and a half before I realized..."I'm WEARING SIX INCH HEELS"...and ended up before the porcelain throne. In fact, most of my experiences with alcohol ends up in front of the throne, which is why, even today, if I even think there's a chance of booze, I clean the toilet before hand, just in case, that's what wisdom does for you)
Any way, where the heck was I...Oh yes, at a wedding...we have a groomsman and a speech that's about 5 minutes to long and still going strong, and a party guest named Cirrhosis, with her back to the speeches dumping her food (that I helped pay for) all over herself, the floor, and talking...I mean, slurring loudly, when she got the bright idea of flinging a beach ball at the kid giving the speech...OK, OK, here's where I come in...I didn't have a part in the wedding, and that's probably a good thing because in any wedding I was a bridesmaid, they eventually broke up, Why? Let's just say I'm like a broken mirror and 7 years bad luck and blah, blah, blah, where am I? Oh yeah...
At this particular wedding, my part, was to shut the heck up, and stay out of the way of everyone, and to have a good time...which I did before the beach ball, and I simply got up, put my face a few inches from Cirrhosis, and told her, politely to get out...now...Although honestly, it was more like GET OUT NOW...OK, OK, it was more like, "HEY YOU STUPID DRUNK, I PAID FOR ALL THAT COLESLAW YOU JUST DUMPED ALL OVER THE FLOOR THAT I'M GOING TO PROBABLY HAVE TO CLEAN UP (and I eventually did, because it was a rented hall) AND YOU CAN JUST STRUT YOUR DRUNKEN BUTT (a$$) OUT OF HERE...
But please, before you leave, take one of these ceremonial keychains with you so you will always be reminded of the great time you had at this wedding...Or maybe I didn't add that last part, but I might've as that sounds like something I would say...
Well, members of that family followed her out, there was a punch thrown, another, a pile up, it was almost like being at a Brewers game when they clear the clubhouse...exciting stuff and well, someone finally called the cops and the rangers, (we were at a state park) and we had to explain how a wedding that didn't include ALCOHOL turned into a good old fashion wedding brawl...
Here comes the best part...yeah, best part, I was saving the best part for last...Some of the new husbands kinfolk are screaming obscenities at me....ME...because I threw Cirrhosis out...to which I (believe it or not) smiled and installed my own brand of blessings on their untrained a$$es..."F you, and F you, and oh yes, F you too...by the way, did I tell you how this whole wedding started...the mom of new husband held up the wedding by showing up AN HOUR LATE to show off her displeasure at her son finally growing a testicle and getting married to the bride. And yet, I'm the bad guy...as her family streamed down the hill to their cars BEFORE the cops were called...they called me names...I just lost 10 pounds but these people were calling me fat...no, not "phat" but FAT...and I, the good Christian who loves Jesus, and I do, I honestly do, I F-them, each and everyone of them with a big ass smile on my face...you would've been right to think me drunk, but believe it or not, I was stone cold sober, although I was probably hyped up on Cherry Coke and a tad of coleslaw...BUT, the part I was saving, and this is the best part...THE CAKE hadn't been cut yet...that's the part that is truly gratifying to me...some members of his family didn't. get. ANY. CAKE...bitches...
And if they thought I was fat before the cake...
Well anyway,
How was your weekend?
2 comments:
Wow Cindy, what a horrible experience. But you've got a true talent for telling the story and I hope that at least is (some) consolation. I need to get back to this type of blog writing, you do it so well.
Considering this other family, it certainly illustrates why people have dry wedding receptions. Whatever they may have said to you, please don't take it to heart. When others insult others out of spite, it only shows their own insecurity. Name calling back is only natural. Still, I would have paid money to see you bust their humps Cindy.
Let them eat cake, indeed.
Wooo Whoo! Cindy is my HERO! You know, there's not enough gut-level honesty at these events...everyone walking on egg-shells cause Old curmudgeon Uncle Burt don't like dopey Aunt Millie, and Cousin Fred and his ex-wife Tramp-stamp brought that no account, probation-released, dope-smokin' teenage son of theirs without RSVP'n.
Makes one wonder why we even leave the house at all...we could save the money and all the grief. Thanks for the groovy story my friend! You rock!
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