a nice day for a white black tie wedding
oh man. we went to a black tie wedding last night. sweet mamapants -- mrs nice guy actually made it out of the house, the poor thing, and to boot put on a shmancy skirt and a tight tee and said "my grapefruterus is sticking out." bless.
anyway. this was a momentus occasion: mrs nice guy got to wear a maneater outfit that she has had, and barely worn, for nigh on four years. this being a very explicitly black tie affair, mr nice guy had to RENT A TUX -- that was two sizes too big ("um, i am pretty sure i wear a 42." "no, ju have beeg shoulders. ju vear 44." "fine."). mr nice guy was all emotions at once: he was livid to be paying $140 for a penguin suit ... only to later learn that the GROOM HIMSELF wore no tux; he was all teary-bleary eyed at going to a sweet november wedding; and he was dismayed to think about all the terrible, terrible things that had happened inside his by-the-hour tuxedo on prior occasions. (shudder.) just imagine some slightly-beefier-than-mr-nice-guy teen on his prom night excreting all kinds of horrifying bodily fluids into his rented polyester only to return it on the morrow and have l'il-old-moi wear it next. blueghagh. so, for preemptive good measure, mr nice guy added his own special sauce to the pantmix before he even put the thing on. [i am not entirely sure what that means, but it's funny so i am leaving it there -- ed.].
the ceremony was lovely and i even convinced mrs nice guy to meander onto the dance floor for a ginger spin to the tender strains of the "lido shuffle." actually, my memory is a little hangover-hazy and is not convinced that was the exact song we shimmied to, BUT the wedding singer frontman did have a sweet yamaha keyboard/guitar thing swung over his shoulder and a madonna mic on his ear and he was strolling from table to table serenading everyone with the splashy strains of "give me the night," which was, in a word, AWESOME.
mr nice guy's beady little eyes welled up with pride and love to see his bride so publicly on display -- it was her first time in mixed company since everyone had officially learned of her "condition." and with the softest, sweetest part of his little heart mr nice guy took her home early. in the cab, while his bride took a mid-barf catnap, mr nice guy imagined to himself the bride and groom of this new wedding, huddled together in their newlywed home several months hence -- she still in her wedding gown, he still in his not-tux. she is on the bathroom floor puking the bitterest of her liver-bile. saltless tears dry in her very ducts. the tux-free groom is intermittently holding her hair back and wondering when the next flight to cabo leaves. the new wife pauses and wipes the corner of her mouth. she looks, sweetly, up at her husband and spits through her vomit-stained teeth: YOU DID THIS TO ME WITH YOUR TINY PRICK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!
and it almost makes the rental fee all worthwhile. almost.
anyway. this was a momentus occasion: mrs nice guy got to wear a maneater outfit that she has had, and barely worn, for nigh on four years. this being a very explicitly black tie affair, mr nice guy had to RENT A TUX -- that was two sizes too big ("um, i am pretty sure i wear a 42." "no, ju have beeg shoulders. ju vear 44." "fine."). mr nice guy was all emotions at once: he was livid to be paying $140 for a penguin suit ... only to later learn that the GROOM HIMSELF wore no tux; he was all teary-bleary eyed at going to a sweet november wedding; and he was dismayed to think about all the terrible, terrible things that had happened inside his by-the-hour tuxedo on prior occasions. (shudder.) just imagine some slightly-beefier-than-mr-nice-guy teen on his prom night excreting all kinds of horrifying bodily fluids into his rented polyester only to return it on the morrow and have l'il-old-moi wear it next. blueghagh. so, for preemptive good measure, mr nice guy added his own special sauce to the pantmix before he even put the thing on. [i am not entirely sure what that means, but it's funny so i am leaving it there -- ed.].
the ceremony was lovely and i even convinced mrs nice guy to meander onto the dance floor for a ginger spin to the tender strains of the "lido shuffle." actually, my memory is a little hangover-hazy and is not convinced that was the exact song we shimmied to, BUT the wedding singer frontman did have a sweet yamaha keyboard/guitar thing swung over his shoulder and a madonna mic on his ear and he was strolling from table to table serenading everyone with the splashy strains of "give me the night," which was, in a word, AWESOME.
mr nice guy's beady little eyes welled up with pride and love to see his bride so publicly on display -- it was her first time in mixed company since everyone had officially learned of her "condition." and with the softest, sweetest part of his little heart mr nice guy took her home early. in the cab, while his bride took a mid-barf catnap, mr nice guy imagined to himself the bride and groom of this new wedding, huddled together in their newlywed home several months hence -- she still in her wedding gown, he still in his not-tux. she is on the bathroom floor puking the bitterest of her liver-bile. saltless tears dry in her very ducts. the tux-free groom is intermittently holding her hair back and wondering when the next flight to cabo leaves. the new wife pauses and wipes the corner of her mouth. she looks, sweetly, up at her husband and spits through her vomit-stained teeth: YOU DID THIS TO ME WITH YOUR TINY PRICK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!
and it almost makes the rental fee all worthwhile. almost.
posted by mr. nice guy at 11:04 PM
1 Comments:
HAHAHAHA! Excellent as usual.
So did mrs. nice guy make it all the way through the event without barfing? I sure hope so.
And what kind of nerve? Black tie and the groom doesn't even wear a tux? May his bride get pregnant with twins.
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