We had photo shoots with the display cameras, impromptu sing-alongs to The Little Mermaid (with little regard to who else could hear), and once spent a good forty five minutes trying to locate the exact moment that you could see the priest's boner, also in The Little Mermaid (that movie kept us pretty busy for a few months). We don't see nearly enough of each other, so I was thrilled when I was asked to be the plus one for another one of our friends.
Because I'm me, I of course began stressing about what I was going to wear weeks ahead of time. I was less than thrilled with my collection of dress clothes, so I planned on buying something new for the occasion. Also, because I'm me, I couldn't actually afford to buy anything until the day of the wedding. So I drug my ass out of bed on Saturday morning and began the chore of putting together an outfit with no plan as to what I was looking for.
All I knew was that I wanted to rock a bowtie. I was pretty impressed with how stunning I looked just in my imagination, so I couldn't really see anyway it could go wrong...until I talked to my mother about it.
I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. My mother, after 27 years, still has not figured out how to handle her anxiety ridden, super sensitive, gay son. She has yet to learn that what I need is not honest advice when I'm asking opinions on clothes, or hair, or the size of my pores. I need blind agreement with no hesitation about whatever opinion I am expressing, because if I'm at the point where I'm ready to let others in my plans, I've already hemmed and hawed over it for a week and I'm just looking for a little validation.
What I don't need to hear is, "...really? ...a bowtie?"
I suppose the argument could also be made that I've had 27 years to realize that my mother isn't going to mince her words because I'm an overly sensitive basket case.
My first stop was at TJ Maxx, because I'm obsessed with that place. I've been finding the most fantastic clothes for super cheap there. I also, somehow, end up buying clearance glassware every time I'm there. I found a super cute black shirt, a green and gray bowtie that was beyond adorable, and also a really pale blue backup tie (because Mom's voice was still in my head).
I decided on light gray pants, but quickly realized that finding them would be a problem. I searched TJ Maxx, Old Navy, Target, Sears, JC Penny, and briefly even considered whether or not I am quirky enough to pull of vintage pants I noticed in the window at Ragstock (I'm not).
I found nothing until I stopped at Herbergers, and I spotted exactly what I was looking for. After an hour of searching, finally things were looking up. Just as I was bending down to grab them, I heard the unmistakable ripping sound (and sudden breeziness) of the entire crotch of my jeans blowing wide open.
I was, of course, mortified. Then I was pissed. I briefly considered just never leaving the corner behind the Calvin Klein slacks. I figured people would notice me living in The Herbergers though, so I thanked whatever deity exists that I put on adorable underwear that day and soldiered on.
Oh yeah, and they definitely didn't have my size, so I was leaving the store with less pants than I entered with.
I ended up finding what I need at Kohl's (why didn't anyone tell me how awesome that place is?!). I skipped the ties all together, because turns out I totally can't pull off a bowtie (Mom- 1, Chris- 0), but I was happy with the look.
The ceremony was beautiful, and the bride was f#%!ing gorgeous. But the main event for me, of course, was the reception. The first thing I do upon entering any room is figure out what kind of vodka is available (and I'm disappointed every day when I walk into work), so I immediately found the bar. That's when I met the new love of my life, the hot bartender (I don't remember his name because I'm pretty sure I never thought to ask him).
I was pretty convinced he was flirting with me, but I'm pretty convinced that most people in the service industry are flirting with me. I ended up making way more trips to the bar looking for clues than I should have and quickly realized this was going to be an expensive investigation if I didn't switch from Ketel One to the much freer beer. And I mean, the rule is, "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear," right? What could go wrong?
They went down real easy (seeings as they were the first beers I'd ever drank in their entirety that weren't some sort of lemony orangey shandy)...a little too easy. So easy in fact that I had enough for me to stumble into some pretty dangerous thought territories, "I wonder if I could pull off a shaved head...It probably wouldn't be super hard to find my ex's phone number...I should give that bowtie another try...breakdancing can't be that hard," and of course the most dangerous of them all...
"You know what's delicious? Long island iced teas."
The rest of the night is a bit blurry, but I remember pizza, more dancing, going home with an entire tray of cupcakes, and having a helluva good time. I'm so grateful that I got to witness the bride and grooms special day, and I'm also glad I got a warm up for Amanda and Kloos's wedding in a few weeks (citizens of New Ulm, prepare yourselves). Maybe I can get this partying out of the way before weddings that I have actual responsibilities at.
As a side note, I do have one pretty clear recollection of the end of the night when we definitely ended up downtown, and I saw the hot bartender standing outside of the bar with his friends. I stood four feet from him, pointing, and yelling at my friends (a block away), "You guys! Hot bartender! GUYS! HOT BARTENDER!"
Klass.
I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. My mother, after 27 years, still has not figured out how to handle her anxiety ridden, super sensitive, gay son. She has yet to learn that what I need is not honest advice when I'm asking opinions on clothes, or hair, or the size of my pores. I need blind agreement with no hesitation about whatever opinion I am expressing, because if I'm at the point where I'm ready to let others in my plans, I've already hemmed and hawed over it for a week and I'm just looking for a little validation.
What I don't need to hear is, "...really? ...a bowtie?"
I suppose the argument could also be made that I've had 27 years to realize that my mother isn't going to mince her words because I'm an overly sensitive basket case.
My first stop was at TJ Maxx, because I'm obsessed with that place. I've been finding the most fantastic clothes for super cheap there. I also, somehow, end up buying clearance glassware every time I'm there. I found a super cute black shirt, a green and gray bowtie that was beyond adorable, and also a really pale blue backup tie (because Mom's voice was still in my head).
I decided on light gray pants, but quickly realized that finding them would be a problem. I searched TJ Maxx, Old Navy, Target, Sears, JC Penny, and briefly even considered whether or not I am quirky enough to pull of vintage pants I noticed in the window at Ragstock (I'm not).
I found nothing until I stopped at Herbergers, and I spotted exactly what I was looking for. After an hour of searching, finally things were looking up. Just as I was bending down to grab them, I heard the unmistakable ripping sound (and sudden breeziness) of the entire crotch of my jeans blowing wide open.
I was, of course, mortified. Then I was pissed. I briefly considered just never leaving the corner behind the Calvin Klein slacks. I figured people would notice me living in The Herbergers though, so I thanked whatever deity exists that I put on adorable underwear that day and soldiered on.
Oh yeah, and they definitely didn't have my size, so I was leaving the store with less pants than I entered with.
I ended up finding what I need at Kohl's (why didn't anyone tell me how awesome that place is?!). I skipped the ties all together, because turns out I totally can't pull off a bowtie (Mom- 1, Chris- 0), but I was happy with the look.
The ceremony was beautiful, and the bride was f#%!ing gorgeous. But the main event for me, of course, was the reception. The first thing I do upon entering any room is figure out what kind of vodka is available (and I'm disappointed every day when I walk into work), so I immediately found the bar. That's when I met the new love of my life, the hot bartender (I don't remember his name because I'm pretty sure I never thought to ask him).
I was pretty convinced he was flirting with me, but I'm pretty convinced that most people in the service industry are flirting with me. I ended up making way more trips to the bar looking for clues than I should have and quickly realized this was going to be an expensive investigation if I didn't switch from Ketel One to the much freer beer. And I mean, the rule is, "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear," right? What could go wrong?
They went down real easy (seeings as they were the first beers I'd ever drank in their entirety that weren't some sort of lemony orangey shandy)...a little too easy. So easy in fact that I had enough for me to stumble into some pretty dangerous thought territories, "I wonder if I could pull off a shaved head...It probably wouldn't be super hard to find my ex's phone number...I should give that bowtie another try...breakdancing can't be that hard," and of course the most dangerous of them all...
"You know what's delicious? Long island iced teas."
The dangerous mix of looking adorable, a hot bartender who was letting me wink sloppily at him without batting an eye, the bride and my's shared love of dancing like nobody's watching, and free booze got me there, and there was no turning back.
There's not a rule about liquor before beer before more liquor before more beer before a Britney Spears medley.
There should be.
The rest of the night is a bit blurry, but I remember pizza, more dancing, going home with an entire tray of cupcakes, and having a helluva good time. I'm so grateful that I got to witness the bride and grooms special day, and I'm also glad I got a warm up for Amanda and Kloos's wedding in a few weeks (citizens of New Ulm, prepare yourselves). Maybe I can get this partying out of the way before weddings that I have actual responsibilities at.
As a side note, I do have one pretty clear recollection of the end of the night when we definitely ended up downtown, and I saw the hot bartender standing outside of the bar with his friends. I stood four feet from him, pointing, and yelling at my friends (a block away), "You guys! Hot bartender! GUYS! HOT BARTENDER!"
Klass.
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