Reception…not to be confused with that lame Leonardo DiCaprio movie

Ok, so I am continuing the story started here and here.  I regret to say that the reception of the wedding I was in a couple weeks ago was not nearly as titillating as the rehearsal “Night of the Kooka“, but I want to wrap this up.  I now have 8 subscribers (woo hoo, bitches!) thanks to this story.

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I was just talking about my dress with a friend.  And I think the dress I wore was very pretty.

But, to be fair, I hate dresses.  To me, they all suck.

This dress would have been fine (or better anyway) if the stupid fucking hag at [the bridal store we got it at] had actually altered it like she was supposed to.  I had it altered once and it was still a little too long and the bust part stuck out because it was so huge and had lots of boning.  (I know, right?  I, too, was in disbelief that a dress existed where the chest part was TOO BIG for me.)

She was supposed to bring the length up (again) and take some boning out so she could sew the bust part tighter.  I don’t believe she did either of those things.  Because the dress was still too long and the bust part popped out (still).  So, I spent the better part of the evening tripping on my dress and manipulating and fussing with double sided tape on my chest.

I had bruises on my chest from where I poked myself with my fingers repeatedly all night to keep the chest part of the dress from popping outward and looking like a place where I could have kept snacks.  (And in retrospect, I wish I’d done this.)

Me adjusting the double sided tape....no, wait. That's Rihanna. I get us confused all the time!

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And then we strutted our stuff…

We all had our own song as an entrance to the reception.  And we had to play that shit up.  The insane competitive thing was resurrected as we all readied to go out.

“We’re going to own that floor!”

“Hell no, you’re going down!”

“SUCK it, man whore!”  (No one actually said that, but now I wish I had.)

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The song Bryan and I walked into was “Superfreak”.  Yes, I picked it.  And, YES, we nailed that motherfucker.  Who can resist the funk of Rick James?  NO ONE.

Props to Bryan who rolled with it when I suggested he pretend to smack my ass during the line “she’s a very kinky girl”.  And actually, I think Shalisha jumped out of line to smack my ass instead.  No matter, this here superfreak owned it, bitches.  I OWNED IT.

Look into my eyes. You are starting to feel verrrrrrry sexxxxyyyyyy.

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But even I recognize that a chubby white girl attempting Beyonce moves is just SAD.  And I did it anyway.  All.  Night.  Long.

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Oh, and hey, remember that uber-stupid-yet-ridiculously-popular song by Chumbawamba wherein people get knocked down but get up again and the dance-du-jour for this song was to actually JUMP UP AND DOWN?  Yeah.  I did that too.  The mental image of a 40 year old ample-bosomed chiffon-laden woman hopping up and down is going to haunt your dreams, my friend.  Haunt.  Your.  Dreams.

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And then I was thankful for planning ahead…

All in all, the night was fun and dancing (and a dude with a huge video camera and a spotlight scanning the crowd).  And.  Then.  This.  Happened.

The DJ stopped the music to announce that the Bride told him there was some friendly competition between the bridesmaids and groomsmen.  I looked at the Groom and just said, “Aw CRAP.”  MotherFUCKER.

And if you can even believe it, he asked everyone to clear the floor so the bridesmaids and groomsmen could have a DANCE OFF.  When the fuck did I teleport into a teen movie where the girl (or guy) from the other side of the tracks makes good by channeling her crappy home life into dancing?  No idea.  But there I was.

We were being judged by various things on our ability to rock out – one of them being “air guitar”.  And, let’s be honest, most women suck at air guitar.  That asinine move does not come naturally to us.

No woman wants to ever look like this.

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And when it became clear we were faltering in this area, Shalisha looked at me and said, “Give me your leg.  I am going to play guitar on your thigh.”

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Aw.  Crap.

Even as I hoisted my leg up from under yards of chiffon, I knew this was going to end badly.  I.  Knew.  It.

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So, Shalisha played my guitar thigh for roughly 10 seconds before I started to lose my balance.

And then I started to go down.

Only when I started, I quickly finished – BECAUSE I DROPPED LIKE A FUCKING ROCK.

And in an effort to stay upright, I latched my nails onto Shalisha’s arm – so when I dropped like a fucking rock, I also had Shalisha’s skin under my fingernails.

And I tumbled onto the floor – a mess of dress, and bosom, and hair, and… I swear to you right now… the only thing that went through my mind was,  “Thank God I am wearing underwear tonight.”

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Later on, when Shalisha said her arm hurt where the flesh used to be, I said, “You may have lost some skin, but I lost my dignity.  Which is worse?

I'm fine. Just step over me.

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And then I realized why I was so aware of what I was doing…

At one point, Freiss said to me (over the dance floor and music), “WE ARE TOTALLY WINNING.”

My reply:  “What are you winning at now?”

Freiss:  “We are out drinking you!”

Me:  “You know what.  You totally are.  You’re totally winning right now.”

Freiss:  “You guys have been great sports putting up with our crap all weekend.”  *shakes my hand*

Me:  “Hey, no problem.  It’s the least we could do FOR A BUNCH OF LADIES.”

*BURN!*

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The reason why I told Freiss they were winning is because I WAS NOT DRINKING AT ALL.  So, let’s review for a minute…

I danced like a crazy superfreak fucktard, jumped up and down in a big dress, and let someone play air guitar so that I could land quite heavily on my ass – AND I DID ALL OF THIS STONE COLD SOBER.

And IT IS ALL ON VIDEO.  (Dammit, dammit, dammit.)

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I think I have proved that one does not need to be drunk to act like an idiot.  You’re welcome.

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And then we said goodnight…

Anyway, most of us made it to the late night after hours snackfest.  We had more food from 12-2am – talk about feast or famine.  I could not eat a whole lot at this point, but the food was great.  (Hello?  Tiny burgers, mac & cheese, pretzels?  Is there anything better to eat at 12am?  I think not.)

All in all, it was a successful event.  Wardrobe malfunctions and all.

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2 Comments

  1. Becky Bowen

     /  November 7, 2011

    OMG! Tonight I am gasping for air as I roar laughter in my bedroom reading this on my laptop! My chlidren are checking all the wine bottles as we speak to see which one I’ve emptied! They are quite sure their mother would never be so out of control hysterical unless she’d been into ‘the sause’. Heather, not one day has gone by when I have not missed you on facebook. Thank God for your blog. It’s so refreshing to know that I’m not the only one who has had some less than stellar days in my life and found humor in almost all of them.
    Becky Bowen

    Reply
    • LOL. I am glad you found it amusing to the point of freaking out your children. That makes me happy. 🙂
      Thanks for reading my insanity!

      Reply

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