Here Comes Da Bride

Today begins three days of wedding stuff. Rehearsal dinner tonight. Wedding tomorrow. Brunch on Sunday. One of my brothers is being nuptialed. We're typical mild-mannered WASPS. They're second generation German-Americans who like to sing and dance and drink. I smell vomit in the men's room.

There will be a videographer so I expect you'll see me on YOUTUBE soon.

A couple of the nieces will be flower girls. One of theirs. One of ours. I hear my niece, who's three, has been practicing her moves, walking with a basket of flower petals and tossing them left and right until she thinks she's got it right. Both of her parents are attorneys. Is this practicing until it's perfect thing a good sign?

Here's a bad sign. The rehearsal dinner starts at 6:00. The rehearsal starts at 4:00. Two hours to rehearse? Or does this just mean extra time for imbibing? I think it's the latter. I'm so not into alcohol infused conversations.

I'm just hoping for some free food and a chair to sit in. And I hope the bride's father, a recent widower, doesn't get so drunk that I look like date bait. He kissed me on the lips at Christmastime [PTUI] because I gave hiim a bunch of Bears' shit -- a shotglass, one of those magnetic logos for the side of your car and a window flag. He drives a Cadillac, so he decided to put the magnetic thing on his basement bar. Next to the velvet painting of Elvis I bet.  I'm nothing if not the thoughtful giftgiver. And such a respectful sister in law of his daughter.

Wake me when it's over.