Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Holy Matrimony

Rita agreed to Tony’s advances, so to the alter they went to seal the deal and finalize all outstanding contracts. I was invited to their wedding to witness a marriage, on the condition, of course, that I maintained good behavior and relented from Detonator style mischief. Nothing prepared me for what I experienced.

A bride this stunning makes men weep.

The location was incomparable, so after much serious contemplation, I was the one yelling “Fore” on random back swings from the bushes.

A major highlight was my ticket to the pre-game festivities, where champagne and females were abundant. I got there extra early for obvious reasons.

When it comes to make-up application, nobody does it better than Holly Valentine. She went to work on everyone, including Rita’s sister Roxie.

I had never before witnessed the preparation involved behind the scenes. Envy in the eyes of other males was surely apparent, especially when empty bottles of Veuve Clicquot led to multiple walks through the field to retrieve another three bottles. Everyone was taking care of each other.

The best part was the encircling, everyone wanting to get a piece of last second make-up primping for the bride, a tradition well respected among most female clans. The final touches reached a frenzy many will reminisce about for years. Everyone was going to look their best.

The ceremony was planned to perfection, no detail overlooked. It also helps to have endless champagne and Chivas to loosen up the bride and Maid of Honor.

I've read that marriage is done for the purpose procreation and requires consummation. There are other obligations to consider, like in some wacky cultures women are required to bear many children. Roxie simply believes in the power of love.

The sheer energy and introspective words of the preacher brought shivers down my spine. The look in Rita’s eyes gazing into that of her love boldly moved the spectators.

That soon led to the rampage of congratulations for the bride, here seen with her business partner Alice.

Bernadette Bender was there too, willing to cause stirs with her unrequited desire to Bash.

It had been forever since I challenged her wits, one of the many things I treasure from such a close friend.

One of my favorite bartenders Danny was there, which was no surprise to anyone with half a pulse.

He later fell into some type of drunken wormhole of self-realization. He claimed that the only way to terminate a marriage is by death.

Roxie gave a very well-received speech during the beautiful reception, certainly one of the many high points.

No matter what type of wedding traditions a family may follow, you have to love the dances with the father.

I was stoked to see Uncle Bob there, who Bashed me into submission with perfectly targeted insults, the kind that are the truth.

He pointed out that the age of consent in Spain is 13, 14 in a bunch of other European countries. As we had an in depth discussion on the many virtues of marriage, the beats from DJ Preston Moronie brought out Holly Valentine and her microphone. The Bash needed some Hyper Crush.

Virtually on cue, they began doing a daring mash up of the Hyper Crush catalog, moving the crowd from verse to verse with purpose. To do it up right, I hit the dance floor to liven things, a typical reaction since I know how to shake it with the crew.

The absurd amount of stiff pours from behind the bar only made the situation more manic. Roxie and Holly made sure to elevate the excitement of the proceedings.

No matter where I went, from front to back, I was viciously attacked by females fueled by thoughts that maybe, just maybe one day, they'll have their day.

Before leaving, I made sure to have a permanent impact by passing along five volumes of “The Art of Bashing” to a promising young college student, one with potential to dominate.

Spreading subversive propaganda around suffices when a positive mood accommodates my passion for the greater good. I gladly pulled ripcord before things could get too out of hand. The fortune showered forth was enough inspiration to attack Del’s Saloon. I was immediately greeted with a handshake from the peerless Amaury Guerrero.

One female was particularly perturbed by our brash behavior, which surely bordered on amazing. Some hussies are easily scared and get inexplicably caught in the headlights. This one was caught off guard, but then became very friendly.

When they figure out the method and understand the threat, calmness closes them and happiness shines supreme. She also suggested that all marriages include a dowry. Her annoying friend was not impressed. Neither was I.

Amaury immediately led her away with the heavy lure of darts. That also led to Amaury belting out an unsolicited karaoke duet with an extra amorous female who had a head full of impromptu drunkenness.

All in all, I survived Rita's wedding and Del’s, so I guess my political career remains intact. It was around this time I realized people were getting rather stupid from the excessive liquid abuse. Very few knew I recklessly stole the bouquet, figuring it would shower me with unprecedented luck.


Amanda Lee! said...

You lucky summamabitch. I love champagne. I actually have a bottle of Veuve Cliquot that has been chilling for exactly two months (I know this, because it was given to me by a douche I am/was dating who pretended he didn't forget my birthday and snuck off in the middle of partying to the restaurant he owns and returned with said bottle, pretending it had been on ice in his Hummer all night - does he think I am stupid?!) and have been waiting to drink it with the douche for equally as long. This post made me decide that I am going to take it down to Chicago Saturday and drink it with Cari (you know her from my blogs) to celebrate her recent engagement to the Prince of Armania (whom you also know from my blogs). Thanks for the good idea!

Mockwaukee said...

I think I want some holy matrimony with Danny the bartender's purse. That thing is HAWT!