A wedding and a blizzard

Had a pretty baller wedding to go to last night. It was my best friend from college J'Mann's little brother Mike's wedding. When Mike was a freshman, we used to buy him and his friends beer, leave it in our room, and then go out to do whatever it was that we had going on. We would typically come home to find a slew of freshmen playing beirut and having a pretty solid time. I always wished that I had someone do that for me when I was a freshman. Anyway, we got tight with the little guys and now they are all growed up and getting married and whatnot...so I was happy to get to go.

Food was tight, the band was absolutely kickawesome. They played a bunch of awesome stuff...some Killers, The Cure, The Clash, the Boss, Dylan, etc...definitely not your average wedding band and it was a pretty solid time. As you may or may not now...the big guy decided to cover up most of the east coast with snow and shit this weekend. So all that started while we were weddinging. It is impossible to get a cab in downtown Boston on a good night, let alone in the middle of a blizzard. Add to that, the fact that Angie was in wedding attire and had no leg coverings, so she refused to even be outside. So I walked around Boston like a douche trying to hail cabs for an hour before we resigned ourselves to having to crash on a cot in J'Mann's room at the hotel. Woke up this morning and by some miracle a cab pulls up right behind us as we are walking...so that made life a little better.

I just want to leave you with an image of exactly what the wedding was like. This is the father of the groom, and my own personal hero: William Cyril Cagney Esq. I might be making this my facebook pic for a while:

That all I got for now, I think. Looks like the snow should be finishing up soon. So begins the time-honored process of shoveling out my car and marking my spot.

&Ry

And where the hell have I been?

Answer: Driving around in the back of a tiny Volkswagon with a ferocious hangover, towards the ends of buying bacon and witnessing an old friend's wedding.

That's pretty much it.

I don't know why, but I chose to start off my long holiday weekend by staying up until 5am drinking with the Greeks on friday night....er, Saturday morning, rather. So after being woken up subliminally by angry messages from the 'Bones, which I sensed were festering on my voice mail, I had approximately 75 seconds to dress myself & make coffee, and then drive nearly 5 hours to this place, home of the best bacon I've ever had the pleasure to shove into my craw. Seriously, it was torturous, but so worth it. Even though we basically drove all the way to my Dad's house in Saratoga, with my piss being timed and held perfectly at the ready, the 'Bones then surprises me by CONTINUING TO DRIVE an additional hour to get our pork on. Damn.

After finally arriving at the home of our Patriarch, my family immediately opens up beers; I choke down the bile which had crept into my throat, and excuse myself for more torture: a 2 mile run. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. But things just went downhill from there. It was a blur for the next 48 hours; there was drinking, there was youtube (my father's favorite new toy), there was lots of food, there were friends around that I hadn't seen in 4 or 5 years, there were people whose names I forgot, drinks I spilled on people/various pieces of furniture, and still a few more people whom I didn't even get a chance to see, and a severely painful mountain biking experience.

All in all, the wedding was dope, as far as weddings go. I am ALWAYS apprehensive going to a wedding, I know not why; but I always end up having shitloads of good times at them. This was certainly no exception. Timmy's rendition of "Easy Like Sunday Morning" during the reception was hands-down his best performance to date. I only pray that his tender vocal chords stay in condition for the next 60 years, in the unlikely event that I someday go through with such a ceremony myself. Extraordinarily unlikely.

I leave you with an appropriately blurry and red-faced photo of 'Wrence and the 'Bones, which pretty much says it all.



On to next weekend, where the talk around town (at least around the general 6-inch area surrounding me) is of home made sausages on the grille


And Russo, if you're reading this: Mother Fuckin Cheers Bro

'Wrence