Back and to the left. Back and to the left.

As I've said, we've only just begun to disect my spectacular bouquet catch. One of these days we might actually get a photo with the flowers in them. This photo was taken by the Groom's cousin and it makes my triumph seem a little less hollow. Here, while the flowers are still quite high in the air, you can see that several other women have their hands raised, as if they too would like to catch the bouquet. However only one crazy maiden is in the "ready position" with her knees bent, butt up in the air and ready to charge forward to get under that pop fly, I mean, beautiful bouquet. Also, if you know Smarty, you know there was a good chance she was going to throw short. The rest is history.

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.

Champagne Dreams and Moonstruck Wishes

Photo by Spencer for Hire

Well, this is my last post before I head to Boston tomorrow to put on my Ultimate Maid of Honor helmet to make sure this wedding goes off with out a hitch, except for, you know, the big hitch, which is the whole point of this thing. Let's Recap:

SmartyPants asks me to be her Maid of Honor (back when I was in love with big font)

We pick out a dress and meet some Fairy Princesses

I correct people who call me a bridesmaid

I try to help the Bride and Groom pick out a song for their first dance (and I do!)

The winner is "When the Stars Go Blue" which was on my list

What Not to Include in the Toast

I begin to feel guilty Smarty is making this so damn easy

I buy the first pair of shoes I see to get the hell out of Macy's

Okay, everyone all caught up?

Here is my number one goal for the wedding: I get to slap someone across the face and yell, "Snap out of it!" I feel like there are very few times you can bitch slap someone with total impunity and being the Maid of Honor may be it. I don't care if it is the bride, the groom, the mother-in-law, the clergy, the drunk uncle, the ex-boyfriend; friends, that is my one wish.

Number one fear: trip and fall. Long aisle, new heels, floor length hemline. No other bridesmaids or floor girl to distract the attention from me. And you know, if I'm going down, I'm going down hard and I'm going to laugh loud and long. That's just who I am. Runner up fear: double chin in wedding photos.

Advice to other guests. Single ladies, if for some deluded reason you have designs on catching the bridal bouquet during the the toss, think again. Think again. Think. Again.

Gentlemen, if you catch the garter and I catch the bouquet, be forewarned. My father lives in Rhode Island. It is not a very long drive from the reception site. If I call him on my cell phone and tell him that I was dishonored during the garter ceremony, he can be there before the Bride and Groom change into their traveling outfits. And then he will kill you. And then I will have to slap him across the face and yell, "Snap out of it!" And then I will cry and say, "I love you, Pop." And then I will have turned the world's whitest wedding into My Big Fat Guido Fest, and that will really be a feather in the cap of this Maid of Honor.

Also, my Yo La Tengo silk handkerchief did not arrive in time, so it looks like I will not be the coolest Maid of Honor ever. Although since I am contemplating wearing my week-old New Balance Nerd Sneakers down the aisle, I guess there was no chance of that happening.

Okay, everyone, let's get nuptialized!

Bridle Party

Another reason why my Maid of Honor experience has been a cakewalk so far is because SmartyPants is totally undemanding as far as what I have to wear and how I need to serve her. Whenever I ask her if she has any strong feelings about how I wear my hair, or what color shoes I wear, she always says, "Whatever you feel comfortable with, whatever looks good." Basically, if this wedding were the Vietnam War, I would be George Bush in the National Guard. "What about jewelry?" I asked.

"Well, I'm going to wear pearls," said the bride. "But you can wear whatever you like. Whatever looks good."

"Okay, so I was thinking some big hoochie mama hoop earrings."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd go for some hot pink feathers." She shouldn't joke; I live in Brooklyn. I can think of about three places to purchase hot pink feather earrings just off the top of my head and I wouldn't even need to take a subway.

The problem is, SmartyPants just is not cut out to be a bridezilla. Both she and the groom are very laid back about the wedding, not in the sense that they want to walk barefoot on the beach and exchange Ring Pops as wedding bands, they're not hippies for God's sake, but they not-so secretly confessed to me that the thing they are most looking forward to about their Big Day is when the whole damn thing is over and they can drive home together and stop for Boston Market on the Mass Pike. These are the kind of people we're dealing with here. The thing is, when you sign on to be a Maid of Honor, you're expecting a bit of masochism coming your way. In my case, it's like being dragged to a fetish club; perhaps you weren't looking forward to the spanking, but you can't help but feel a bit disappointed when your dominatrix has her iPod on and keeps checking her watch.

On Saturday afternoon, Smarty and I sat down at the Haymarket in Northampton, one of our old college hangouts, that everyone we know used to cleverly call the "Gaymarket."

"So, do you want to have a bachelorette party after the rehearsal dinner?" I asked my friend.

"Um, actually, I think I'd prefer to go home and go to bed."

"Okay, no problem," I said. "That saves me from having to bake a cake in the shape of a penis.
Well, what about a shower? I still want to do something for you." We had talked about doing something non-traditional with just a few of Smarty's girlfriends like a day at the beach or a tea party or a Broadway show or, um, another trip to the circus.

"I think I'd like to do something after the wedding. You know, to remind myself I still have a life and to have an excuse to get together after the wedding."

"Okay, well that's a good idea. And it certainly takes the time pressure off." Hmm, that about wraps up my wedding contributions. What do you say we go home, split a Valium and watch Mary Poppins?

I'm kidding. I know that I am very fortunate and I couldn't be happier but still I'm slightly concerned of the precedent we're setting here. I asked Smarty if she was going to carry a purse. "For what?" she asked.

"You know, stuff!" I said. I can't go anywhere without stuff.

"Well, I don't think so. I haven't really thought about it."

"I'll probably carry a small clutch," I said. "If you want, you can give me your stuff and I'll carry it around."

"I don't know," said Smarty. "That sounds kind of ... demeaning."

There was a pause as we looked at each other until I exploded, "That's the point! You are supposed to demean me! It is your day!" Because really, what does it mean to ask someone to be your Maid of Honor? You are saying, "You are a dear friend and I love you and I want you to share in this very special milestone with me but also na-na-boo-boo-in-your-face! because I have found the love of my life and you are still trolling for dudes on Friendster, even though you won't admit it. And also, this is for every time you ever upstaged me, every time the guy hit on you and not me, every award you won, joke you told at my expense, I was happy for you in those moments, but also, it hurt a little bit. So as your punishment you must stand next to me on my very special day with a smile plastered across your face. You must fluff my train and bustle me (whatever that means) and dance with my uncle and toast my eternal happiness and if you even think of getting plastered you will go down in history as the person who. ruined. my. wedding. and you will totally screw up your chances for making Godmother of my first born." Unfortunately, Smarty stopped buying those bridal magazines a long time ago and never got this memo.

Smartypants has spoiled me. No doubt the next wedding I'm in I will find myself squeezed into a strapless chartreuse number with contrast sash and matching three inch heels and the bride will have assigned me the very special task of babysitting her 103-year old great-grandmother. "Now we want Gee-Gaw to enjoy the chicken picata just like everyone else, but that will mean she'll probably need an enema around the time of the cake cutting ceremony. You don't mind, do you?" At which point my only option will be to choke down the words, "When Smarty got married..." and go to my happy place. But maybe this is all a big insurance policy on the part of Smartypants. Afterall, if I ever get married and ask Smarty to be my Maid of Honor it will make it very difficult to impose my reign of terror on her. "Would you mind bending over on all fours? We need to fit you for a saddle. We decided that in order to save money on a town car, you could give me a horsey ride to the church. What's that? Can we talk about this later? You need to open wide now for the bridle."

Let's Raise a Glass

Last weekend, I went to Northampton to visit my friends SmartyPants and FribsInCharge, who are soon to be married. This wedding will be notable for many things, chief among these is my involvement in the nuptials as the Maid of Honor. Of course it is always nice to see my dear friends and I enjoyed a weekend out of the city, but also it is about time for me to pay the balance due on my bridesmaid gown and so I also wanted to sit down with Smarty face to face and make sure that everything was still 'full steam ahead' as it were before I pulled out the plastic and booked my airfare etc... Smarty gave the go ahead sign, so it's onward and upward for Team Fribble.

I must say that my burden in this whole wedding sheebang has been a light load to bear. Perhaps not least of all because the few times I could have been of use, I was asleep at the wheel. The chores I offered to help with were largely taken up by the 63-year old mother of the Bride. The coordination is a bit difficult with the major players spread out in three citys. And while I'm sure the MOTB is happy stuff envelopes and Smarty insists it "keeps her off the streets", I can't help but worry that if the woman wasn't pre-arthritic before, she will be by the time the bouquet sails through the air. I missed the bridal shower thrown by the future mother-in-law because I was cavorting around Germany with strange men. Smarty assured me it was no big deal, but when I walked into their condo last weekend and beheld that most puzzling of shower gifts, the "wedding cake" made of hand towels in the corner, well I knew I should have been there to document the look on the bride's face as she contemplated that one. And I should have been the one assembling the ribbons for her rehearsal boquet; I could have tipped her off that every ribbon she ripped opening gifts would mean a baby later on down the line... I know how the couple feels about small families... And where was I? Probably eating an Eisbecher and mumbling my way through subordinate clauses. Ultimate Maid of Honor or ultimate Chump of Dishonor? You decide.

Unlike my other duties which will pretty much all go down on the day of the rehearsal and the wedding, there is one task I have agreed to undertake that I can get to work on now. I am speaking of course about the toast I will make to the bride and groom at the reception. Seeing as how I am a writer (hypothetical mostly) and proprietress of this here D-List weblog, I fear that expectations will be running high as guests lean slightly forward in their chairs to catch my bons mots. This makes me nervous. Those who know me will know that I used to do a lot of public speaking, but they'll also know that these days I struggle with staying on the right side of the line between 'appropriate' and 'inappropriate'. And you don't have to know me well at all to see that I'm a lazy cupcake and will most likely be composing my speech as I walk down the aisle (chill out, word on the street is that it's a long aisle).

So while I haven't actually started writing the toast yet, I have gone over some incidents and lessons from my past and have started UNwriting this toast several times over. So I now present:

"Things you Will Not Hear in My Maid of Honor Toast, List Possibly to be Continued"

1. Although it can be a cute way to show familiarity, I will not be using my nickname for the bride, "Killer", nor my pet name for her beloved, "Pain in the Ass."

2. A good way to break the ice can be to tell the audience something personal about yourself, however the joyous occasion of a wedding is not the time for me to publicly confess my fear that I will die alone, the fact that I am the favorite "Auntie" to all the children in the neighborhood bringing me cold comfort as my faithful Bichon Frise, Harry Lime, gnaws on the eyeball of my undiscovered corpse.

3. I think we all agree that an Interfaith wedding can be a beautiful thing, however this will not be the propper moment for me to do my take on Catholocism versus Unitarianism. "He believes Jesus Christ died to redeem us for our sins. She believes that a Dixie Cup full of grape juice and a lesbian reading a Shel Silverstein poem fulfills your Sunday obligation. Can these two crazy kids make a go of it?"

4. If I get the sense that things are going badly, I will not take a page out of my dating handbook, get all defensive and imply that my audience is gay.

5. While it might be nice to compare the different life paths of two friends, this should not necessarily include an analysis of why I believe all of the relationships I was in failed during the time that Smarty's and Fribs' was flourishing (see point #4).

6. Just because someone has handed me a microphone does not mean that I need to sing Soul Assylum's #1 hit song "Runaway Train".

7. While people frequently use weddings as places to network for job and relationship hook-ups, overt allusions to such goals are best kept out of the celebratory toast (but if I want to keep a few business cards in my bra, I think that's my business).

8. Popular culture cliches, whether or not they have 'inside joke' significance, have no place in something that you hope will be timeless, classic. Therefore I think we can ax "All your matrimonial bliss are belong to us," "what happens in Cohasset stays in Cohasset," "I wish I knew how to quit you." Even if a plane full of snakes crashes into the reception hall while I am giving a toast, I do not want to hear the words "snakes on a plane" uttered. Got it?

9. And really, since the only thing I'm good at talking about is myself, should I have a weak moment, it is absolutely necessary that someone be standing by and be ready to pull a fuse in the circuit breaker and cut power to the entire building if they hear be say the phrase, "But enough about Smarty and Fribs, let's talk about me."