Monday, October 09, 2006

We did what we came here to do.

Well, the wedding is over and I'm back in Brooklyn with the post-wedding blues or Stockholm Syndrome or something. Call me Patty Hearst, but I still feel like spending time with people who were at the wedding, and unfortunately no on in Brooklyn in qualifies. I swear that if I had the Mother of the Groom's phone number I would have called her up hours ago just to chat. Let's look at my beautiful friends: (I've had to strictly cut off all booze for the rest of the weekend. If you want to cry at the wedding, that's fine; if you want to cry alone in your apartment on Columbus Day, that's pathetic.)

So, as Maid of Honor, I wasn't able to take many photos, but I'm hoping people will send me some and of course, I'm eager to see what the photographer captured. But in the meantime, I'm sure you're curious to see how my dress turned out. Here's a few that the wife of the Best Man took with my camera. (Thanks Angela!)

I'm sure I'll be posting about this wedding for weeks as more photos trickle in, but let's take a down and dirty look at some wedding statistics:

The prize for the most crying on the Altar goes to: the Maid of Honor

Things that made the Maid of Honor cry:
  1. The Priest's homily
  2. The exchange of vows
  3. The Bride and Groom's first dance
  4. Dancing with Garrett, my best friend whom I don't see often
Things that made the Maid of Honor get choked up:

  1. Groom dances with his mother, bride dances with her new Father-in-law
  2. My toast
  3. The exchange of vows at the Rehearsal
  4. The father of the bride sees the bride in her gown (fortunately I was still upstairs applying make-up at the time)
Don't you want me in your wedding?

Number of times I tripped on my dress: 3+
Number of times I tripped on my dress when it counted: 0

Number of slaps I administered: 0
Number of close calls: 2 (that's all I'm going to say about that)

I believe threatening the entire rehearsal dinner with the "slap heard 'round Cohasset" went a long way as a deterrent.

Unfortunate things I said in the car on the way to the church: "Oh crap, I probably should have practiced my toast once."
What I said to the bride before I walked down the aisle: "I love you."
What the bride said to me: "Go down there and kick some Maid of Honor Ass."

What I feared I would be walking down the aisle to after everyone was vague on this point during the rehearsal: "Let Me Take You to Funky Town"
What the Bride Guessed: "Springtime for Hitler"

Number of people that repeatedly stressed how important it was for me to constantly "fluff" "joosh" and generally mind the bride's veil and train: 3
  1. The Priest
  2. The Best Man's Wife
  3. The Florist

Number of people who begged me to please "be good" and "behave" at the wedding on Friday: 2

Theme of my toast: cake (duh)

Age of the bride's dress: 100 years+
Age of the sword used to cut the cake: 200 years+
Age of the bride: 25 years
Age of the groom: 26 years
Years I've known the bride: 9 years

Did the bride tell the head table that I snore: yes
Did we learn what a tussie mussie is: yes

Number of people I promoted to "honorary bridesmaids" so I could have someone to boss around: 2

Surprising things said to me at the reception:
  1. "Good job, Laura."
  2. "So, you're in health care?"
  3. "Why are you crying?"
  4. "I like you. You're fun."
  5. "The father of the Groom told me you have a blog called Don't Mess with Cupcake. I think that's very cute.

So, who caught the bouquet: As if you even need to ask.

Let's review this action photo taken on my camera by a nice guy from White Plains. I've tried to highlight some key elements for you using Microsoft Paint. Click on the photo for a larger image.

The bride's body is blocking the actual bouquet, it is represented by the pink burst. So we have all the young, unmarried women lined up on the dance floor. I swear all I said to them was, "Remember, there is one Maid of Honor." The rest of the message, which was implied, being, "Remember, there is one Maid of Honor and one bouquet. You do the math."

First we see the bride, who threw the bouquet quite short, has turned around to see, 'who will catch my flowers? Oh. Right...' In the green box you see me running forward to catch the flowers. People later said to me, "I really thought you were going to dive for it," but there was no need. Note the other women just ... standing there. They didn't even try for it, which I must say makes the victory somewhat hollow.

In the red circle you will note some flowers flying off the bouquet from the force of which I was swatting/squeezing it. In the blue rectangle you will note the visiting guests from England conferring with each other, 'Crazy American bitches.' Please also take the time to note to looks on all the other faces which range from horror to amusement.

What can I say, ladies? God helps those who help themselves. Even though I can pretty much 100% guarantee I will not be the next person to get married. At least I didn't have to throw any elbows.


acaligurl said...

how fun. you look great. oh ya.. the bride too ;)
come on cupcake... i wanna hear who almost got slapped!!!!

Paula said...

You looked amazing! It looked like a glorious day. I am so glad that everything went well!

Dawn Z(ed) said...

That's a fantastic dress!

Irina said...

I'm totally feeling you on the stockholm syndrome. Although there wasn't a bridal party, the wedding I went to in India a couple of summers ago had the same effect: a week with all our closest friends and suddenly it's back to real life. I too had the urge to contact the groom's family oddly enough. It will take a while, but life will normalize a little and then you'll spend two years dreaming of that one special wedding...that isn't helpful, is it?

Your dress is super cute and, incase I hadn't already said it, I really sympathize with the dress-finding complications inherent to Park Slope and it's fancy boutiques.

Joe said...

You know, there are no words.


I live in Montana. I am a dude. I do Montana dude stuff, like snowboard, dodge grizzy bears, fly fish, climb mountains, and kayak.


I read this blog every day. I love it, in all its Cupcake-bridesmaid-Brooklyn-Deutschland Uber Alles-Covered in Frosting Glory.

This, in defiance of all laws of logic and Manlaw.


You rule, Cupcake. You rule, with an iron fist. Except the iron fist is in a velvet glove, and somehow, frosting and sprinkles are involved.


The Bouquet Situation?

If those bitches were in Thunderdome, they wouldn't stand a chance.

Post-post script:

Cup to the cizzake, once again, you rule.

Post-post-post script:

Why do I feel like I have to focus just a little too hard to pass the Word Verification Test?

I swear I just broke a sweat.

And I swear that there is a Word Verification Gnome, who loves to fuck with me.