Wednesday, January 18, 2006

I would do anything for love (but I won't do that)

I’ve mentioned that my family is hilarious in all its dysfunction. Here is a shining example.

When I was 12, my mom re-married. She’d been divorced since I was 3, dating the man I shall call CoorsLight since I was 4, and he had been successfully living with us, terrorizing my sister and I, and mooching off my grandparents money since. Not that CoorsLight was necessarily a bad man – he just drank too much, yelled at my mother, yelled at us and called us ‘children’, which I loathed, and had red hair. I don’t know, I just don’t trust red-headed men (sorry). Anyway, 8 years of that later, he finally agreed to make an honest woman out of my mom. The wedding that would follow would go down in history as the most fore-shadowed case of wedded disaster known to this day.

It all started to go down-hill when my mom and soon to be step-grandma started fighting over whether my mom was really allowed to wear white at her 2nd wedding. Except, in this case, my mom didn’t want to wear white and poor disillusioned CoorsLight-grandma wanted her to – to make it feel like a ‘real wedding’. Sign #1 that this marriage is a poor idea: Bride don’t wanna wear white.

We all should have known that this wasn’t meant to be when they picked their wedding song. And by ‘wedding song’, I mean the song my mom walked down the aisle to. They picked the always sentimental “I would do Anything for Love (But I won’t do that)” – by Meatloaf. Here are some of the lyrics:

Meatloaf: And some days I pray for Silence,And some days I pray for Soul, Some days I just pray to the God of Sex and Drums and Rock 'N' Roll.

Girl : Will you cater to every fantasy I've got?Will ya hose me down with holy water - if I get too hot? Will you take me to places that I've never known?

Meatloaf: I can do that. OH I can do that.

Ah yes, there were tears in the eyes of all who attended that day. Sign #2 that marriage is a poor idea: Incorporating Meatloaf in any way to your wedding day.

But let me back-track. I may have been slightly opposed to the marriage, but CoorsLight had been, if nothing else, a constant in my life for the past 8 years and I was willing to accept the blessed union. My sister, TigerCat, however, was ready to fight her little 9 year-old devil-fingers to the bone to prevent it from happening. Looking back, we should have listened to her bratty whine-hole. But then this story wouldn’t be nearly as funny.

Sign #3 that marriage is a bad idea: kid willing to do anything possible to ruin the day.

She had been protesting for about a year, but on the day of the wedding she kicked it up a few (hundred) notches. It started at the brunch my mom had that morning for the wedding party. It was very elegant, in a fancy hotel in a resort town in the states, with croissants and sparkling OJ and the likes. Oh, and my sister throwing a hissy fit that would put Lindsay Lohan to shame. We’re talking cutlery flying, screaming, tears, and the kind of curse-words that you just don’t expect to hear flying out of the mouth of a 9 year old. Maybe now you’re beginning to understand why I’ve named her TigerCat.

She was eventually sent to her hotel room to ‘cool down’. When I joined her later, it looked like Hurricane Katrina had made a 10-year premature stop in there. Lamps on the floor, sheets thrown everywhere. That girl had angst. But by then it was time to put on our hideous bridesmaid dresses.

Oh, the dresses. Obviously we matched, because my mom is cruel. White sundresses with blue ribbon topped with white sunhats adorned with, shocker, blue ribbon. Let me repeat that I was 12 – almost 13 – and I looked like something Anne of Green Gables might have thrown up. If I ever find pictures that my mom hasn’t burned, I’ll post them.

While my mom was getting ready, TigerCat and I were left to our own devices. A poor choice. We entertained ourselves by spitting off the balcony, and soon discovered that if we synchronized our spitaching (pronounced spit-AWCH-ing – fake Italian slang courtesy of my father), we could join each of our spits into one massive glob of disgusting child saliva. At the exact moment we perfected this, some rich old lady stepped out from under the awning on the ground floor. Oh, the timing was beautiful. We got her right in the fucking face. A huge mass of child-spit from 12 stories above. She threw a shit-storm, started screaming about ‘goddamn seagulls!’, and TigerCat and I cowered in our room, crying. We weren’t really bad at heart.

Sign #4 marriage is a bad idea: maid of honour and flower girl think they’re going to be arrested and look over their shoulders the entire ceremony.

And now, the wedding itself! I think this might be funnier if I skip the explanations and let you picture it for yourself:

Sign #5: In boat ride to island where ceremony takes place, several guests become sea-sick.
Sign #6: Ring-bearer shits his pants halfway down the aisle (I am 100% serious); cries rest of ceremony.
Sign #7: TigerCat refuses to sprinkle flowers, out of spite.
Sign #8: TigerCat walks too fast and leaves poor, young, shit-assed ring-bearer to wander the aisle on his own.
Sign #9: Piano player loses music and “I would do Anything for Love” sounds like fists being smashed on keyboard – sentimentality is all but lost.
Sign #10: TigerCat spends rest of ceremony picking ‘bugs’ out of Bride’s dress; has to be swatted away by aunt numerous times.
Sign #11: Out of defiance, TigerCat refuses to wear shoes.
Sign #12: In all wedding pictures, TigerCat has secretly stepped out of shoes and makes faces.
Sign #13: ThePeach uses disposable wedding cameras to take pictures exclusively of babies present at the ceremony. As a result, there are no candid reception photos (except of babies).


They divorced 4 years later.

The Peach.

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