One Wedding and My Funeral
Before I get to the business of my weekend’s drunken tomfoolery, I must mention NASCAR’s Sunday race in New Hampshire was an outrageous misery for Kyle Busch. If that doesn’t get you in the best mood of your life then I don’t know what will.
After pre-race car weigh-ins, Kyle’s crew forgot to screw in a necessary bolt which rendered his car slower than a garbage truck which means he got lapped hundreds of times growing angrier, more humiliated and finally furious enough to spin out and smash his turtle of a car in a real life demonstration of the phrase “You are screwed.” The poor jackass spent his afternoon zooming around an oval at 45 mph. He even smashed into a highway cone which stuck prominently on his front bumper. That cone was the best looking thing on that car.
Speaking of shocking, on Saturday night I went to the most gorgeous, over-the-top wedding ever to be held in California. It took place in at Fort Mason, which is an old General’s mansion with eye-popping views of the San Francisco Bay. The bride looked like Eva Longoria in an iridescent silk gown; the guests were chic hipsters straight out of The Hills and the finger food looked like edible bling on white triangular plates.
I don’t know how I got invited either.
There was an open bar, and by that I mean, bars that were open every 15 feet with snappy butlers looking to refill champagne at such a frantic pace that I’m sure at Fort Mason’s last event a guest exploded from an empty glass such that the director of wait staff vowed never to let that happen again. I don’t drink very often, but in the interest of merriment, I decided to party like its 1999.
I got into the Grey Goose martinis… up with two olives, transitioned into champagne, Chardonnay, back to martinis. Luckily for me, I ate enough food so I did not go unconsciousness until I got home - when it kicked in nicely.
I woke up at 3:30 am with brain munching headache, a stomach feeling like I swallowed pinking shears and great confidence I’d contracted malaria, E-Bola and Sudden Adult Death Syndrome. I swerved to my bathroom where I pawed around for Advil, found 4, put ‘em in my mouth, and took them via a process called - sucking water out of the faucet like a thirsty moose. I found my bed once more and tipped over into it.
I woke up again at 7 am to find my headache gone but stomach still ablaze. I went hunting for my glasses in my purse and I found a chocolate truffle in there. Apparently, I took some sweets to-go at the dessert table. I quick snapped it shut in case I’ve stolen anything else, like a pepper shaker and some guy’s wallet. I can’t bring myself to look.
Which brings me to warn you all, if you’re going to invite this writer to your wedding - Honey, hide the silverware!
Thank God it’s Monday.