the instructions given were to:
~ celebrate my nearest and dearest by never leaving their side.
~ sleep in my parents' bed.
~ accompany my dear auntie to the lavatory (dunny probly would have been okay too, methinks).
~ hold my older brother's hand on his date.
AND, if they protest out of sheer raw emotion,
~ hug them tight until they give in to my love.
unfortunately (or...?), i missed the opportunity as i didn't get the all important instructions til sunday eve and by that stage there was gor-mei beer at black cat and nachos pizza
(yup, the 3rd in five days) to be had. even more unfortunately, i missed last wednesday's "apply to an orgy" day. ah well, can't be helped, i s'pose.
lucky for me, in terms of meeting my diaretic (?!) obligations [what i'm trying to say here is my obligations to complete the life changing tasks set out by the diary, NOT my obligations to wee!!], i DID have a family weekend, complete with the wedding of my cousin soph to her nice traditional italian boy, frankie, teacher at the parish primary school and all-round mr nice guy.
as most of my family will now be aware, if they weren't already, i am somewhat lacking in the department of affinity-with-weddings genes. i feel kinda the same way about them as i feel about telstra. and that's saying something.
it's not that i don't respect those who choose to make it their way. but there's just something altogether outdated about weddings for my liking ~ it's a tradition that some people seem to follow simply because it IS a tradition, rather than for any personal significance.
i don't think that all weddings are infinitely meaningless, i just think that the flippant way that many undertake such a committment somehow reduces the meaning of the cermony overall. just an opinion, y'know.
an opinion which inevitably results in an earnest (or was that suicidal?) attempt at the world record for revoltingness induced by excessive champagne consumption entirely* against my will. it's almost like i'm consumed by the soul of a formula one grand prix winner and i just have to share the love.
to be honest, it was probably the red wine at the end of the night, followed by jugs at the exford (whose website does not belie their ultimate seediness) that did it.
they try and deny it: jo, nic, sqodge AND my old man. even blair just laughed and told me to shut up. so perhaps my claims to revoltingness supreme are, after all, sadly invalid and the soul of the aforementioned racing champion resides elsewhere.
*if by entirely, you mean entirely the opposite!
No comments:
Post a Comment