Posts Tagged ‘fun’

And then the 200-lb dog took some Ambien

Thursday, April 22nd, 2010

What were you doing last night? Me? I was at a book reading/signing with Christopher Moore!

First, the venue was a church. And he spoke from the pulpit. And if that was delicious irony enough, he was mad with the quips about securing himself with the sash thingy in case of sudden rapture.

The reading wasn’t so much reading as some very funny stories about life on a book tour (the last time he spoke in a church, a young earnest man mistook his Ambien-induced brain fart for an epiphany), being Canada after a long time (though he finds the man being threatened by a boat full of monkeys on the back of our $20 to be a bit odd) and the awesomeness of his neuticals.

My BB camera sucks and it ran out of memory before I could get a picture with the man himself, but we got a great shot of Melle. And check this out:

This is a Bite Me poster, above an altar

The altar says "Do in remembrance of me" heh.

The absolute beauty of that. Really.


Monday, August 25th, 2008

The bride was beautiful, the groom was gracious and the guests were drunk.

Melle and I made it to the ceremony just in time. We were in the non-Catholic crowd so we just went along with it when they stood up and sat down and stood up and sat down. The priest was an elderly German fellow who apparently like some of the lyrics to the hymns because every once in a while, he’d start singing along with the real singer (who was fabulous btw).

Because the ceremony was at 11am and the reception didn’t start until 5pm, we went out for lunch with K and her husband by our “luxury” hotel. Pizza and a daiquiri – yum. I’m pretty sure that L was worrying that he was in for a long night of diva talk and hanging out with the “girls”, but we started to gel over the food and my impending visit from one of my northern uncles who is bringing his chainsaw and has requested that I stock up on vodka… and this is to do some “plumbing”.

Melle and I availed ourselves of the big bed and soft headboard for a nap, only after taking pictures of our marble spa bathroom.

Then Melle got herself into some German engineered super-bra that was required to ensure that the girls didn’t migrate out of the diva dress was wearing, and I got into some spanx kind of gitch and tried to rein in the ringlets.

All four of us stuffed ourselves into a rather tiny cab at the same time that the Blue Jays game was getting out. L is a big guy who was sporting a wool suit (he looked awesome) and we were going about 10 feet a minute, and it was hot. After ranting about “being in the only cab in Toronto with A/C” and comparing how far the sweat had migrated down our butt-cracks, the driver finally clued in and put it on, which improved things considerably.

Until we got to the venue. It was a rowing club with a nice big balcony overlooking the lake, but there was no A/C and it was about 30 degrees, so we were all a bit melty for the first little bit. But bride Helen, who is very smart, had fans handed out to the guests as they arrived. Even the guys were doing their best Karl Lagerfeld.

The good thing is that it started to cool down as soon as the sun moved over, and the food was awesome, and the speeches went really well – there were some awesome things said in German, which we didn’t understand, so we just kept on toasting.

Bride and groom were really pleased to welcome people from all over the place, too. They both like to travel, so I’m sure they were taking names for places that they will be visiting in the near future. And the parents were adorable and proud and happy. It was an Irish-German-Spanish love-in.

And that led to all kinds of shenanigans. I was doing okay after the champagne and wine with rye and water, Melle and the others had moved on to gin, but then L and I got talking and we decided that it was really important that we have some scotch. Good scotch. After unsuccessfully trying to convince the bar staff that we should be able to pay for a bottle, I brought out the big guns: the bride.

One nod from her and I was perusing the scotch list and waving L’s credit card and lining up a few glasses. I was greeted with high fives on the patio, let me tell you. I’m waiting to see just how much a bottle of 12-year Bowmore costs at retail :) While I proceeded to tuck into about 5 of those, Melle got it into her head that it would be good to drink vodka and Red Bull. Then there was dancing and we got to hang out with the bride and groom a bit and I think I grinded a random gf of one of the guests. C showed up somewhere in there and we read her the riot act since we haven’t seen her in person for over a year – but I think she’ll mend her ways.

There was some German folk dancing and Irish jigging and an unplanned undie-flash (not me). Lots of smiling faces and people talking and all of the good stuff that goes along with a really great party.

We got up the next morning and were planning to go to Cora’s across the street for some much-needed grease, but the line-up was out the door, so we ended up eating at the posh-posh restaurant in the hotel. It was a kind of buffet, from which I could only manage a few strips of bacon, some fruit and a small muffin. Actual cost: enough to buy the farm on which the fruit was grown and a pig.

Drive home was uneventful and rather quiet (and Melle drove and she’s a goddess). It is a truism that there is such a thing as too many ryes and scotches, and a very definite thing that vodka and Red Bull is not a recommended source of vitamins. And old chicks like us? We need time to recover. We were emailing each other today with ratings on the tired scale – can’t remember my login, nodding off in a meeting, unable to competently articulate words longer than 3 syllables…

Bride and groom are now in Hawaii, and I certainly hope they’re sleeping.