First of all congratulations to Michelle. She was such a beautiful bride and it was such a beautiful ceremony.
I’d like say thank you to Michelle. Michelle, thank you for breaking my month long streak of sobriety. Not sure what put me in such a funk, but celebrating your nuptial bliss with some of my most favorite people seemed to pull me right out of the darkness.
The wedding was in Carmel, one of my most favorite weekend getaways. I was staying in an adorable little hotel with Lauren, Kasey, Crispin and Forrest. (Yes, there were five of us in one room, but it had three beds.) Lauren had apparently just googled the hotel closest to the reception at the best price. I’m, however, still convinced she strategically planned it to be next to the only bar in Carmel open until 2am: Brophys. Nice work Lo.
As soon as we got into town Kasey, Lauren and I headed over to Brophy’s for a drink. I was hoping to start slow, but Lauren ordered me a Long Island. Damn her.
After several cocktails the wedding party showed up post rehearsal dinner.
As you can see, Lauren, Kasey and I had enjoyed one too many Long Islands and I was heading towards a very bad decision.
I failed to mention that Brophy’s is most definitely a male dominated bar. In fact, besides the two cougars in cheetah print, we were the only females there. Upon walking into the bar, there was one group of men in particular, a golf weekend getaway for them, who looked to be a good time. “Ricky Jones” as I will call him, had instantly caught my attention…mmm…chocolate.
We talked for quite some time…He was some sort of youth officer…I don’t recall much more than liars dice and shots. But by the end of the night I had collected more than just a couple of free cocktails. I had in my possession one very important piece of collateral: his hotel room key. (Notice how “sotally tober” I look in this photo.)
Despite my girlfriends being in the mostest drunken stupor, their reaction went something like this…
Now stop judging me…I wasn’t actually going to do it. It’s the thrill of the chase, not the actual conquest. Give me a break…I do have some class. (Some being the operative word.) I gave him back the key and the girls and I went back to our own hotel room. There I enjoyed some delicious cupcakes…chocolate cupcakes that is…teeheehee…
Coincidentally the next night we ran into the same group of guys and it turns out “Ricky Jones” was married. What a sleaze! He wasn’t even wearing a wedding ring! Some guys are so ridiculously gross.
……
The rest of the weekend was fantastic. Saturday and Sunday brunching. An amazing afternoon wedding on the beach. And most importantly, good times with great friends…
Quotes of the Weekend:
- Kasey: “What does Walmart smell like?” Crispin: “Kmart.” Kasey: “What does Kmart smell like?” Crispin: “Poverty.”
- Kasey: “The back piercing (which she sports). It brings in the men. I just can’t guarantee the caliber of those men.”
- Anonymous: “The last guy I dated…I finally convinced to let me stick my finder in his ass.” Me: “Congratulations. I see you’re still really classy.”
- Me: “And his name was Ricky Jones. Seriously.”
- Me: “Why do you drive such a big truck?” Courtney: “Cause if you’re gonna be a bear, might as well be a grizzly.”
- Anonymous: “His hands are as big as Colorado. He’s one tall glass of water.”