Well, it finally happened. I'm married. It's now officially okay for me and my wife to have all the freaky sex we want and nobody can say anything about it, because we're married. Of course, as every married couple knows, it also means the end of sex as you know it. But at least I got past the big day. Finally. Overall, it went pretty smoothly. Only a few minor snafus along the way. Such as...
My tuxedo jacket was too small. The shirt was too small. The vest was too small. The shoes were too small. The pants were too big. Apparently, I'm so morbidly obese that they don't make tuxedos in my size and they decided the best day to tell me this was the day before my wedding. They were able to get me a decent fit in a shirt and shoes, but the jacket and vest did not come in a bigger size and the pants are apparently too big on purpose so they can fit all fat guys into one size. Of course they didn't feel a refund was in order because their contention was that the groom's tux comes free with the rental of the wedding party's tuxes. My contention is that they received $800 dollars from my wedding party, the least they could do was get me a tux that actually fit me. Apparently, that was too much to ask.
My brother's shoes were too small. His shirt was too small. We actually had to go to Meijer the night before the wedding and buy a white button-down shirt for my brother. Of course, the tux place doesn't feel they have to pay me back the money I had to spend on his shirt because the shirts come free with the tux rental. The way they see it, it was free so they don't have to supply it. The way I see it, we gave them a hundred dollars, they didn't give us everything they were supposed to, and because of their negligence I had to go out and buy a shirt. They also ordered the wrong color tie, argued with us that it was only the wrong color because we were holding it the wrong way. Then she bitched at how much it was going to cost her to overnight us a new one.
One of my groomsmen got a jacket so big we had to safety pin it around him.
Three of us didn't get cufflinks.
On the way out she "complimented" my wife on her "efficiency." I.E. called her a bitchy nag.
We had hired a photographer and given her a deposit, but then someone else hired her for more money so she decided to take their job instead. She also decided not to tell us about this and just stop returning phone calls and emails, so we had to hire a new photographer two weeks before the wedding.
Speaking of people we hired that canceled on us, we had two different ministers agree to do our ceremony, then disappear off the face of the earth. The third minister we got couldn't have been a bigger hillbilly. He started his introduction to me by telling the story of how he and his wife had to go to Kentucky to get married because she was too young to get married in Ohio.
Since we hadn't had an opportunity to meet with the minister beforehand (since he was our third pick on VERY short notice) we had to discuss at the rehearsal the order we wanted everything to go in. On the first run, before we'd told him how we wanted everything done, he had my wife's father walking her to the front, then he had us saying the "I Dos", then he read the whole fucking book of Genesis, then he told us all what the apostle Paul had to say about marriage, then he told me to take her hand, then he told her dad to sit down, then he pronounced us man and wife. So we had to essentially re-write the entire ceremony for him on the spot.
Oh yeah, and he couldn't decide how high he wanted his mic, because he kept raising and lowering it.
And he was mumbling most of everything he said.
Which was just as well, because he obviously hadn't done much preparation since he was reading everything straight out of a book, as if for the first time. He was staring directly at the book the entire time, stumbling over words, and losing his place continually.
Speaking of people who acted for all the world like they'd never done their part before in their lives, we had the shittiest organist in the history of the organ. She kept fucking up during the playing of "Canon in D" which was the music the minister, myself, and my groomsmen came out to.
Speaking of us coming out, the photographer, who kind of took charge when she saw that nobody else we'd paid knew what the fuck they were doing, wanted me and my guys to stand for the entire ceremony with our hands clasped behind our backs. Which was fine except that I literally couldn't get my hands behind my back, and I could barely get them together in the front. It was like Chris Farley's "fat guy in a little coat."
So then the big day came and I decided that with all the shit going on, the best way for me to not stress out would be to get a little drunk before I had a chance to worry about everything.
Didn't work. I drank from 11 AM to 10 PM and I couldn't keep a buzz to save my life. I managed to get a little drunk on three separate occasions, but it never lasted more than about half an hour, no matter how much I drank. I was pissing like a racehorse, but I couldn't stay drunk.
The first time I came un-drunk was after the first three hours of picture-taking when the photographer's stupid assistant kept bitching at me to smile every ten fucking seconds and then always laughed about it as though it were funny that she's an annoying bitch.
So after the boys got done with our pictures, my new brothers went out and got a 12-pack of beer for us to get drunk again. So we were drinking in church and having a good old time, when my mother-in-law came in and said we couldn't find the marriage license.
Then Reverend Hillbilly showed up, found out we had somehow lost the marriage license, and said he wasn't going to do the ceremony without it, because he assumed we just hadn't gotten it and were going to ruin his credibility as a good, upstanding minister who can barely read and mumbles unintelligibly into the mic. So ten minutes before the ceremony we were worried it wasn't going to happen, until my large, intimidating father-in-law persuaded Reverend Hillbilly to do it and that we'd get him the license on Monday.
Finally, it was show time. The organist started playing our song to walk out to. And kept hitting wrong notes and sounding horrible. At one point she made such a horrendously off note that it sounded like the organ was farting.
Then we were all out in front and my wife came to the front of the aisle with her father. Everyone turned to look at them and waited for the organist to start playing "Here Comes the Bride." And waited. And waited. And waited. And the hostess flipped the organist's cue light like crazy. And we waited some more. It was a solid three minutes between the time my wife came to the front of the aisle with her father and the time the organist finally started playing "Here Comes the Bride." There were a couple times where we thought she was finishing "Canon" because she'd get to the end of a verse and then pause, but then she'd start in with a new verse. Then she finally saw my wife ready for her big entrance so she finished a verse of "Canon," the organ farted once more, and she started playing "Here Comes the Bride."
Finally, the talking part of the proceedings started, and nobody could hear Reverend Hillbilly.
Which is just as well because he hadn't practiced any more, so once again he was reading everything straight from the book, stumbling over words, and losing his place.
Then the organist started playing something right in the middle of him talking because she had the order fucked up.
Then she did it again two minutes later.
Then she missed her cue when we went up to light the Unity Candle and didn't start playing until we were done.
Then my wife and I realized we hadn't practiced the kiss, so she pulled back before I did.
Then one of her bridesmaids tripped over the runner on the way out of the sanctuary.
Then one of our guests tripped over the runner on the way out of the sanctuary.
Then people couldn't figure out which door to go out.
Then our limo driver, for some unknown reason, had parked our limo literally right outside the church so there was no room for people to see and blow bubbles at us as we walked out of the church together.
So we agreed we would walk around the limo and get in on the opposite side. And then as we were walking around the car to go in the opposite side as we agreed, he stopped us and told us to get in the door right outside the church that we had already walked past. So we looked like stupid assholes in front of everyone.
The limo driver who, by the way, hadn't shaved for the occasion.
And who pulled out of the parking lot right in front of a car, causing the car to slam on their brakes to avoid hitting us.
Then the bitch from the church found the rest of our beer in the refrigerator and jumped all over my father-in-law about it. The same bitch who decided to tell us that day that she was charging us an extra $30 an hour for each hour the church was opened for us before the ceremony. Apparently, she expected us to dress and take pictures in the parking lot.
Oh yeah, this bitch was the same woman who couldn't even play the organ right.
And her husband looked like a fucking creepy pervert.
And I'm pretty sure he molests children.
Then when we were on the last round of pictures, someone made a comment to me about how they were sure I was done with pictures and I said "yeah, pretty much." I hadn't meant it to sound bitchy, but I was so pissed off about all this other shit going on that I sounded bitchy, so the photographer apologized fifteen times for each picture she took the rest of the time.
Then the limo driver left the divider open on the way to the church so we couldn't really talk or mess around freely.
Finally, we got to the reception hall, and were hoping it would at least go more smoothly than the ceremony had.
The wedding party lined up for our big entrance. My wife and I were formally introduced. We walked over to our table while our song played. And my wife knocked over a flower display with her dress on the way.
And the "Reserved for Immediate Family" signs hadn't been put out on the tables closest to the head table, and people who had no business taking those tables did. So incidentally my mom had to sit four tables back and couldn't even see the head table.
But at least she didn't have to sit under the corner that had mold hanging down from it that we didn't see until the day before the wedding.
And then the DJ decided to play very little of the music we agreed upon at our meeting. The reason he gave was that whenever he played our music, everyone left the dance floor so he had to play his music instead of ours to save the reception because if he played ours, everyone would go home. Except for one tiny little thing. The few songs he decided to play were the most obscure songs on our list that people were the least familiar with, and thus, the least likely to dance to. He didn't play the stuff on our list that most people at the reception would be familiar with. For example, he played "Ninja Rap" by Vanilla Ice. I put that in as a joke for a few laughs. It took people a couple minutes just to figure out what the hell it was so they weren't dancing to it. So since people didn't dance to a joke song that's 20 years old, that meant that our music was crap and he couldn't play it. Of course they didn't dance to all his songs either, but I'm not the DJ so what do I know.
Oh, and every time he played one of our songs he made a big deal out of how it was a song we had picked and he hadn't. That way when he played the obscure shit he knew most people wouldn't know everybody knew I was the one with the shitty taste in music, not him.
The best was when he stopped an Aerosmith song I'd supplied right in the middle of the fucking song and played that fucking Soulja Boy song I can't stand. I was so pissed off I had to walk out of the room.
Plus the DJ just sucked anyway. The whole point of a DJ is to have the music flow and not sound like it's just someone randomly playing songs one after another. There was no flow or transition when he switched from different kinds of music. Like when he went from playing 6 shitty rap songs in a row and then threw in a country slow dance with no warning. Or when Aerosmith got cut off right in the middle of the song.
Or when he randomly chose to play like four Dave Matthews Band songs in a row. That people weren't dancing to.
Or when everyone was drunk and rowdy late at night, so he decided to play like four slow songs right in a row. You know, despite the fact that everyone left the dance floor when he did that.
But finally, the train wreck was over, and it was time to go to the hotel. Except that we'd neglected to arrange for transportation to the hotel so me and my wife and my big ass and her big dress had to fit into the back seat of my brother's tiny car.
And then we checked in to our hotel and just as we started "getting funky" a train went by right outside our hotel window.
But at least the honeymoon was good.
Except for the grand total of five hours in delays for our flights.
Oh and the last two days of our honeymoon recording the two lowest temperatures Florida has had in the last five years.
Oh, and the airline losing our luggage.