Who was lately married. (And “late” is meant in all possible ways. I arrived two hours after the chupa was scheduled and the bride and groom didn’t mosey in for another half hour at least.)
Anyway, I did check my placecard, but it wasn’t necessary. I knew exactly which table I belonged at. She might as well have dropped the “##” and just written “Bloggers” on it. It would have been simpler, and it would also have saved us the trouble of explaining our presence to mutual acquaintances who knew her from more legitimate venues.
You would have expected people to be sitting there with their Blackberries and iPhones liveblogging the thing, but I kid you not – not a single one of the bunch of so-called writers had so much as a pen, except SD, and that was purely by accident. (She doesn’t use pens.) I don’t know what Erachet‘s excuse was, but at least she got a meal into her that should last until she sells a piece. (Living from wedding to wedding is a classic “professional” writer means of getting sustenance. James Thurber did it for almost a year. And he’d bring leftovers home with him for breakfast, too.)
I gotta say, it’s a good thing the bride was wearing a big puffy veil because otherwise it would have been hard to spot her. Whatever happened to cupcake gowns so big the bride needs three feet of clearance? Don’t get me wrong, I think they’re unwieldy, but if you don’t take up much space on your own, how else are people supposed to find you?
Freeda gets BadforShidduchim club points for marching about the room in street clothes, and even accosting the bride in so mundane a habit. We shall have to discuss a meet so she can spend her points. Two Sundays from now, anyone?
NEF#14 injured me with her diamond ring. I just had to point that out. Those things are dangerous. They hurt. (No, not emotionally. Sheesh. If you can’t handle a ring on someone else’s finger you need to grow a skin.) They should be outlawed. Wait, noooo. Post on that coming up one day, actually. When I get around to writing it. The gemstone ring must stay. But can they do something to make them less hard and sharp?
THE MUSIC WAS TOO LOUD!!! And if you can hear me, you obviously weren’t at the wedding. Unless you are Bas~Melech, who came armed with earplugs and preserved her auditory senses. I know it’s usually a given that the music is too loud, and I don’t complain. But this was beyond. This was like a secret military weapon kind of loud. If this were a war, I’d run up the white flag and surrender to the band, no matter who the singer was.
Why is it that everyone is perfectly capable of recognizing a circle of camp friends or a circle of school friends and leaving them to dance alone with the bride, but you get a circle of bloggers in there and everyone thinks we’re just a random assortment of people and try to break in? Didn’t we exude a sinister internet miasma? Wasn’t it obvious that our fingertips meld naturally with a keyboard? Did we not look uniformly random? Do we really need URL necklaces to prove our illegitimacy?
As weddings go, it wasn’t the most funereal. There was a smattering of color around the room. Of course, record for most funereal goes to MF#9 (Shidduchville Correspondent) whose Monsey nuptials had a grand total of four non-black outfits at it.
Overall it was lovely. I still haven’t seen the groom. (I am willing to place a bet that he’s below 5’9″.) I wish the young couple all the best and may they live happily ever after, Amen.
PS: It’s now 1:16 in the am, and everyone who was formerly seated at the blogger table is now showing up in my chat pane. People, we need to get a life.