May 17, 2006
bridesmaidmania 3: revenge of the silk

Quote of the day, from a student in the same class as yesterday:

"When I was little, I used to think that NeoNazis were Nazis that glowed in the dark."

ed note: the wonderful photos of Brian Tao are linked but not shown. As copyright remains his, I thought it would be appropriate to leave the photos on his site. You can get to the main gallery here for five hundred fotos of fun!)

So. Bridesmaidmania 3: Revenge of the Silk.

Two years ago, Scott told me about this party. Saddled as I was with wee Blake, I didn't feel right drinking & partying. So I helped him find a dress at the big ol' Goodwill (by following two men looking for dresses; how smart am I?) and sent him on his way. I was a little jealous, but in those days I was jealous of anyone with clothing that a) fit and b) wasn't covered in drool. Frills were a bonus.

I don't know when I decided that this was my year. Like all of my best decisions, it seems to have crept up on me. Frankly, I wonder why I missed last year, as the event combines so many of my favourite things: dressing up in fancy clothes; hanging out with cool, arty people; handing out sweets and treats to strangers; making a public spectacle of myself; hanging around in bars; dressing up one of my favourite boys like a doll; and wearing a tiara (my favourite accessory).

Getting there was a bit of a logistical nightmare, as everything is when you live an hour away from the main event and won't be able to drive yourself back. The Boy dropped me off at Dirk's house, took a quick look for tiny cutie Poison Ivy (who was at brunch with her parents), talked some Battlestar Galaga with Dirk, and took off for home. The next hour was a whirl of primping: Dirk & I got dressed, Dirk got painted by his downstairs neighbour, and the two of us took a cab to my hair appointment. (And how fabulous did he look? SO FABULOUS!) By the time we'd reached the restaurant, I had already been enjoying myself for hours, and it was all thanks to Dirk. This weekend has been all about Dirk, and I’d almost forgotten how much I could enjoy a weekend with him in it.

At dinner we sat across from Cyn, the Maid of Honour, thus inserting us into the reporter's conversation and allowing me to offer my services for any and all crazy schemes the MoH was cooking. (I am pleased, as the Kinderparty will allow me to use my teaching powers for good instead of evil.) I was honestly surprised that the MoH was so friendly; I think I was expecting a stuck up art chick, but I failed to take into account the fantastic loyalty she inspires. (You don’t get to be this loved by being a bitch.) Soon we were embroiled in Blue Brothers trivia and eating our Mexican food as fast as possible. (Considering how slowly I eat, this ultimately meant that I ate as fast as a normal person.)

We made a spectacle of ourselves on the subway.

I started handing out cards and lollypops to strangers who made eye contact. Not to brag, but I have that teacher-fu thing whereas if I look someone in the eye and smile sincerely, they will take whatever I am trying to give. I kept running out of supplies. Next year I need to bring more candy.

My tiara started to dig into my scalp (as it is wont to do), and I started getting a stealth headache: you know, the kind of headache that slowly sucks up the fun, until you’re miserable and you have no idea why? That kind of stealth headache. (Is this why I looked like such a bitch in the photos? Perhaps.) Although I enjoyed myself in The Stag Shop (see the National Post, re: flogging a restrained bridesmaid), I didn’t truly recover until I took off my tiara at the Bishop and Belcher. I also took off my shoes, showing the MoH some love as her shoes hurt (mine didn’t, but bridesmaids stick together). For some reason, being shoeless kicked up my mood (well, that and the limbo contest). Rob showed up to giggle at our foolishness, the Boy showed up to take me home, and I didn’t stop smiling until I was dragged away.

She ain’t heavy; she’s a bridesmaid.”

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 5/17/2006 07:49:00 p.m.

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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*