a required taste for the pretentious as all get out





here comes the bridesmaid
November 11, 2003, 8:34 pm

I realize how incredibly girly this makes me, but I've been planning my wedding for YEARS. The idea of what I want and how I want it has evolved (gone are the days that I wanted all the guys to wear grey tuxedos with different color pastel cummerbunds and bow ties to coordinate with the bridesmaids' dresses), but the basic idea has been the same: I want a party that will last at least three days. My parents' wedding reception has lasted in the Maryland Elks Lodge record books for 28 years as the most Scotch-consuming event EVER in the state; something tells me that anything short of Bennifer's wedding will pale in comparison to their shindig.

Aw come on, I want the dress, I want the bridesmaids, and I want all the attention that will surround me for being THE BRIDE. Hell, I might even have to get married three times to enjoy all the attention.

I guess the next best thing to being the bride is to be one of the bridesmaids: you get your picture taken, you get a poofy dress, and you get all the perks of being in the wedding party without the necessity of actually having to get married. Free shots, hair done, and a row of eligible groomsmen and ushers. This sounds more my gig.

Which is why I was delighted to accept my partner-in-crime Amy's invitation to be a bridesmaid in her wedding next September.

So now starts all the bridesmaidy things, like fittings for dresses, attending showers, and trying to talk the bride-elect into not dumping her fiancee on Saturday night when she's drunk and upset over something. (Everything is fine now...A--Amy--just gets maudlin when she's drunk...any wonder why we're friends?) A has laid upon me the greatest responsibility of all the attendants: planning the bachelorette party. I have to plan an activity that isn't too expensive, that everyone can attend, and won't get the bride killed. Only one answer can fit the bill: VEGAS. She's in for a TREAT.

A broke down the rest of the bridesmaid list; her twin, Ann, will of course be the matron of honor, and the others are friends she's had forever. It dawned on me rather quickly that, as always, I will be the only fat-assed brunette in a sea of size four blondes, only this time I'll be wearing a pomegranate dress.

Yeah, I'm going to stick out a bit (no pun intended).

So here it is, the game plan: I will do that thing that I-never-purposefully-write-about-in-my-journal-because-when-I-revisit-it-later-and-find-that-it-still-hasn't-been-done,-I-get-depressed. For real, and you all have to hold me to it. As of right now, it's 8, thank you. No, seriously, kick my ass if you read about me eating a brownie or something.

I can't give up alcohol, though. I have to be better during the week so I can get my drink on without apology.

Because there's nothing hotter than a drunk and easy bridesmaid, and dammit, I want to be HER.

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