The one in which I give Skeelo a run for his money

This weekend was just flat out wonderful.

One reason?
I spent it here:


Another reason?

I spent it with some of the most fantastic people I have ever had the fortune of knowing.

(which one do you think is me?)

And, most importantly, I witnessed an amazing friend make the most beautiful bride, and I saw in her groom's eyes that he recognized it, too.

Lest you think I am just some concentrated form of sap, I am not one of those generic "I-wuv-weddings" type of girl. In fact, after the last wedding we attended, I found myself wondering if I had perhaps became a little jaded, for outside of some more detached appreciations of certain moments, I wasn't having the typical warm and fuzzy emotional pangs. However, even the stoic Duke himself noted that this was a particularly lovely wedding. And he was one of the only dry eyes in the house during the speeches.

Other highlights and lowlights of the weekend?

The weekend kicked off with eight of us poured into one mini-van. While some would have sulked at the prospect of being forced to wait for a ferry in such close quarters, we celebrated by drinking red wine out of to-go coffee cups while in line.

Most of the tiny island was taken over by visitors for the wedding. Not only did we have every hotel room booked, but we also took over the local bar the night before the wedding, where someone plugged in their musical disgrace of an iPod, leaving us to dance the night away to hip-hop AC/DC remixes and Whigfield's Saturday Night. My guy, however, was impressed by my lyrical knowledge of Welcome to the Jungle.

Songs officially banned from my wedding? The Chicken Dance, the Macarena and the Hokey Pokey.

The lyrics to "I Wish I Was a Little Bit Taller" and "Shoop" are pretty much permanently imprinted in my brain. However, even better is the interpretive dances that accompany them when I have drunk multiple glasses of wine.

Sometimes gender contrasts are way too stereotypical. Exemplary of this fact is the 40-something woman who literally dove and collided with other people's ankles to frantically grab the bouquet, while the men had to be herded onto the floor to catch the garter.

Asshat of the wedding award clearly went to the fellow who was actually doing a running commentary of shit-talking during the wedding. Not only did he let out overexasperated sighs during certain portions of the ceremony, when my friend stood up to do a reading, he snarkily whispered "How much do you want to bet it's from Corinthian?" I also learned due to forced eavesdropping that he came down the aisle for his own wedding to "Eye of the Tiger". Seriously.

Warm and fuzzy part of the weekend? When the bride gave me and our close friends special engraved wooden boxes, and told us that they contained the key to a box we would get for our own wedding, which included a special garter that we were all to wear on our special day.

Quote of the weekend? 

The scene: Three of us discussing the incarnations of bacon in different countries.

J: Bacon strips taste different in the US than they do in Canada.

The Duke: That's because bacon from Canada is made from children's dreams.

Me: Mmm, I taste unicorns!

(Psst... ummnowwhat.com. Do it.)