Saturday - The wedding

Saturday:

Woke up, still wearing shoes, still wearing make-up. The only thing that had really changed was that instead of being insanely drunk I was now insanely hung-over. I stumbled down the stairs of my loft style cabin to find god mum face down on her bed and grandmother, sitting up in bed reading. I head for the bathroom and the shower. As I exit the shower I hear her knocking on the door. I knew it would happen like this, it always does. My sister. Up, dressed, happy, ready for her special day. Me. In a towel, hung-over, wanting to kill myself. I run up the stairs, dress and return for the ‘walkabout’ (east coast word for ‘take sister to be attacked by more bugs’). We head up to get mum. As we walk up to their cabin I have a brief feeling of returning to the scene of the crime but luckily remind myself that I did nothing wrong and happily enter. Mom will get me through this. Mom is in her pajama’s. Mom was too drunk to remember us having made plans to meet at this ungodly hour. I love her.
Skip the walk about, let’s get a greasy breakfast. And we do.

After breakfast, I head to the spa. I’m in desperate need of a pedicure and if I don’t get one soon I’m not going to have time to charge it to my parents room.

After the pedicure I’m attacked by every women in the family ‘you should be getting ready, with your sister, right now’. Right now? The wedding is in 3 hours. I like to get ready early. But come on? But dealing with my sister alone is better than dealing with the lot of them so I get my dress and head to the honeymoon suite.

I arrive and her hair is done, makeup is on. Sadly, she looks a bit like a trailer trash bride. She did her makeup herself and the colours are off and she did her hair herself and it doesn’t suit her. But being the nice sister I am I tell her she looks beautiful and head to the bathroom to get started on myself. An hour later and I look effing fab. The gay photographer shows up and I’m immediately in a better mood. The gays are my fan base and we hit it off instantly. We secretly had a discussion in the bathroom about photoshopping some volume into my sister hair and adjusting the makeup colours. Loved him.

Before long, the photo’s were over and the golf cart came to pick us up. We stood huddled in an empty room peaking out of blinds at the family who were all seated patiently. My sister was nervous. I have to say, that for such a mess of a wedding. It turned out gorgeous. Right on the water, very intimate, a harp player that wasn’t even cheesy). It was nice. And believe me, it takes a lot for me to say that.

So I walked out first, smiling as I thought about what The grooms sister had told me earlier about his having a testicle infection that wouldn’t allow him to have sex for 3 weeks. I made it to the front, smile on, near laughter. Next came my sister and dad. It was all very cute.

I missed most of the ceremony as I was focused completely on the bee that was attacking my bouquet (white roses). But when it was over, waitresses appeared as if from nowhere with champagne for all. Mmmm champagne. Next was pictures. Boring. But I must remind you, I looked hot.

Next came the reception…. Speeches, drinks, dinner, drinks, music, lots o drinks. And nothing makes you get drunker then when your only dance partners are related to you. Sigh. A fun group, but I never want to see my mom ‘shake her groove thing’ again. Or line dance… but that’s an entirely different story.

So one drink to many and my father was offering to walk me back to my cabin. I accepted and vaguely remember getting home….

I wish I had stayed home.

But Apparently I didn’t.

Apparently I heard a party at a bomb fire, on the beach, from my room and went to investigate. I don’t remember much but I do remember running into the Atlantic wearing some boys t-shirt. I do remember making out heavily in the water. And I do remember heading abck to his room for a hot shower.

It’s moment’s like these that make me proud to be JASG…