Brides and Beefsticks

*Note* The many times aforementioned Dress will not be found in this post. All photographic evidence of The Dress that was that was under my control has been destroyed. As soon as the ceremony was over, The Dress was ditched into a dark corner and jeans donned.*


I cruised down to my buddy Devin's wedding a couple of weeks ago to be a bridesmaid. She was my very first, and only, college roommate. Turns out that people aren't so into living with someone whose idea of cleaning involves a garbage bag, a wet sock and some air freshener. I totally don't get why she moved out.

I was in charge of something blue. So I did what any responsible parent would do. I took my baby to the porn store then nursed her in the parking lot because I refuse to let my friends get married without an aqua French Tickler. Oui oui.




My awesome friend, and one of the fabulous Godmama's to my kiddos, Mindy came along as my chaperon. So I strapped her into the Moby Wrap to make sure Ruby didn't get out of line. She was also there to make sure that I didn't ruin the weekend by snarfing too much champagne and trying to drive with my head out the window back to the hotel because FOR CHRIST SAKE ACE VENTURA DID IT IN 1995 AND THAT WAS THE YEAR I WAS COOL .

So I did what any youngish girl would do who was unfettered by responsibility for a whole night with all her friends. I did the Chicken Dance. *

Congratulations Dev. I swear if you keep inviting me to awesome parties like this I totally won't tell the whole Internet about the year you survived on Mickey's Malt Brew with instant apple cider mix thrown in instead of eating food or the time you stole a beef stick at Plaid Pantry by shoving it down your ass crack and then ate it in the street at 2 a.m. because, you know, I totally forgot about that.
I love you girl.

*I also aim to look 9 months pregnant in photos whenever possible so as to keep the inevitable swarm of Hot Guys away. Back off, I'm a married lady now, yo!