Fun Wedding
30/06/08 01:50
Okay, I have to vent for a minute.
I know that my posts are usually happy and fun, but today you are going to have to bear with me. At this particular moment I am not very happy with my sister. I mean, I can think of many times in my life that I wish that my mother had only given birth to boys, but this one has to top the list with a bright flashing neon sign.
I’m getting ahead of myself. If you’re going to understand my pain, then I’m just going to have to start at the beginning.
A few months ago I got a call from my middle sister, the one that is closest to me in age. She was squealing and making all sorts of girly noises into the phone, but through it all I got the gist that she was getting married. Turns out that the big D had finally popped the big question. Towards the end of the squealing I was informed that I would be in the wedding party and that my presence was required at several events not to mention the big day.
So far so good, right? Yeah, I was okay with everything up to this point.
Because even though I like to wander, I also love going home. I get along great with my family, and I always like to spend some quality time with them. This is why I came home earlier than required. I wanted to get there before everything got crazy and really get to visit with my family.
Yeah, I’m so new.
It turns out that women go crazy as soon as the word wedding is mentioned. My mother was a drill sergeant the likes of which I have never seen before. (And honestly hope that I never see again. In fact, I am still having nightmares about it.) Who knew that any one person could possibly care about the exact color of a napkin quite that much.
So instead of spending two weeks hanging out and drinking beers with the Pops, I spent two weeks running errands like a gopher. Not what I had in mind, but still something that I could easily deal with.
And then “it” happened.
See, the whole time that I was home I kept hearing how the groomsmen’s outfits were being designed by some big name guy. It was a big deal, especially to anyone in D’s family. Whenever any of them said his name, they would kind of whisper it in awe. Something like, “Oh, you heard that D decided to use “Scott Mason” didn’t you?” or even, “Did you that “Scott Mason” agreed to dress the wedding party?”
I mean we are talking that this was a huge deal to these people. So, I have to admit that I was getting excited. I pictured this slick suit that was designed to fit me like a glove. I could definitely work my walk in something like that!
The big day finally came. All the boys gathered up at D’s so that we could ride together. Evidently the shop was opening just for us. D has this big suburban, so we all piled in and started joking around about how the ladies would be falling at our feet when we pimped it out in our sweet suits.
My first inclination that something was about to go terribly wrong was the look on D’s brother’s face. See, he was riding up front (being the best man, we all though he deserved it) and when he heard the rest of us joking around he got kind of pale. Then he looked over to his brother and said (very quietly I might add) “You didn’t tell them?”
Tell us what? Now, I’m starting to get nervous.
But of all the horrible things that flashed through my head (polyester, theme outfits, team colors) none of them could have prepared me for the truth.
We pulled up in front of Designs by Scott Mason and the car went silent. It was as if a vacuum had pulled all sound out of a world and you could have heard a pin drop in that car. And then from the seat behind me I heard.
And I quote.
“Dude, There is no way in hell.”
It turns out that Designs by Scott Mason specialized in traditional Scottish garments. Yes, we were wearing kilts. KILTS as in SKIRTS! Yeah, what I didn’t know was that “D” is short for Duncan and that his family is very proud of their Scottish roots. So much so that they have their own family plaid that was to be used in our kilts.
I found this out as some guy that was at least 150 fitted me for my very own skirt. (The first and hopefully last that I will ever wear in my life.) Right after they told me that we were suppose to go “al natural” under these little beauties. Um, the wedding is on a pier, I think not.
But it gets better. See, you would think that when this bomb dropped that it would be D that I was unhappy with seeing as how it was his family tradition that dropped me right into the middle of this mess. And you would be wrong. (Don’t worry, I was.) As it turns out, this whole skirt bit was my sister’s brainchild. She wanted to make a good impression on her new in-laws so she decided to include their heritage in the wedding. D wasn’t any happier about the whole bit than the rest of us were.
In the end though I was able to get my revenge in a small way. I already told you that we were suppose to go free style under the kilts, and I already told you that wasn’t going to happen. Turns out that was a good plan on my part.
As the night wore on and the alcohol ran free the bridesmaids got braver. They decided that it would be good plan to run up behind a bunch of us and flip up the kilts in front of the entire wedding reception. (Which included my grandmother I might add.) The idea was to get a great picture of our shocked faces and our white rear ends.
Well instead they were the ones shocked as I had supplied all the groomsmen with a nice set of whitey tighties, complete with a bright yellow smiley face right on the butt.
My brand new brother-in-law was so proud.
My sister is still not speaking to me…..which I’m fine with. I think now I am in the mood for some great street music!
Your Friend,
Choozie