Gallapalooza, part deux

The morning of August 11th (aka D-Day) I went to breakfast with Molly and Brent and Brent's Mom and her boyfriend. We went to Bob Evans. For two reasons really... 1) they serve a mean biscuit and gravy combo which I heart immensely and 2) there's no where else to eat. The breakfast conversation consists of many topics including but not limited to bacon dangles, the pumpkin festival, huge burritos surrounded by chili, and various others. Needless to say, I was the morning entertainment. (I was probably still a little, or a lot, drunk seeing as how I went to bed 4 hours earlier. I use to pull this stunt in my Spanish 465 class on Friday mornings. I was the star student those mornings.)
We came back to the Uptings house and vegged the heck out for a while. Sandy, who was hung-over Harriet, decided to volunteer Molly and I and herself to help decorate the tent at the French Art Colony where the wedding was to take place. Ugh. So the three of us stinky ladies braved the hot heat and hangovers to go and answer the call of duty. It sucked. We had to precisely measure out water to pour into globes on the tables. We peaced out and went back to the house where I ran into the Groom's older brother (Ken) and his wife (Kimber), both whom I adore. Kimber is pregnant with Ken's baby which while it is a great thing, was slightly sad for Molly and I because the three of us love to drink together but you know, gotta respect the kid. Ken told me that he and Gabe went to lunch and Ken expressed his feeling about the wedding. Again. It went something like this, "I'm only gonna say this one more time. I don't think you should marry her. She's not the right girl for you." Gabe "Well, what do you want me to do?! Everybody is already here and everything's already paid for!" That struck me as maybe not quite the response that he should have given... maybe something more along the lines of "I love her, Ken. She makes me want to be a better person. She makes me want to stop searching because I know that I've found the what that I was looking for." (Now, ok, I realize that men only say these things in say, Lifetime movies or hallmark cards. I'm writing this entry and that's what I'd want someone to say about me. Get over it.)
Fast forward to a few hours later. We ride over to the French Art Colony which is the setting for the wedding. It looks lovely. Honestly, it does. And then we turn the corner to where the ceremony is to take place... BAM! Right in the hot August sun, facing the sun I might add, are the chairs that we are to sit in during the vows, etc. Ugh. This does not a happy Moo make. I'm just glad I had on a strapless dress and I felt so bad for the guys in jackets and full blown tuxes. (One advantage of being a female, I suppose.) So, the wedding party comes out and everyone looks so classy and ballerific... esp. Molly, the grooms woman. They say "I do" and everyone is, uh, happy. Or at least everyone decided to forever keep the peace. We all decide that now is the appropriate time to start drinking. Now. Right now and not a moment later. Now, things start to get interesting... I call the wrong Mike on my cell phone. Whoops. My mom and Charlie (that's her call sign... she's a new member of the Upting clan but all the older people in Galapalooza have known each other since God was a boy) start to get tipsy. My father and I are talking to some of his old cronies which is great fun for me because they tell me the stories about my dad that he won't tell me. (Like, for example, how he was in the car with someone going around 2nd ave. when the driver passed out mid-turn because he was so wasted. Classic.)
And then dinner, blah blah blah... some of us are too drunk to eat so we just keep drinking waiting for the cake to be cut. By the time it's time to dance, whoa, we are all pretty tanked but none the less ready to break. it. down. My dad and I hit it and bust a few moves together but I have to keep adjusting the top of my dress and it's really starting to piss me off and worry my dad so he gives me his suit jacket and I put it on backwards, like a straight jacket. How appropriate, I know. Then a GREAT idea hits me like a bolt of lighting... Molly and I should do one of our patented dance routines for our ex-manager, Gabe. We decide the song should definitely be "Electric Youth" and request that the D.J. play it before the night is over. We wait. And eat cake. And make fun of the Abominable Snowwoman. And wait. And wait. All the time still consuming mass quantities of alcohol. Enough to kill a good size herd of cattle or supply a small country with for years. And years. Now, yes, I'm mad. The party is ending, Molly and I are ready and starting to freak out because we think Gabe is going to leave before he can see our performance. The d.j. announces that this is the last song of night and with that said, I march right up to the d.j. "booth" and proceed thank him for playing the one song that I wanted to hear and then, oh, what's that? You didn't play it? Well, I think it is my duty to notify him of the fact that he "fucking sucks." Game over. Moo 20 points, D.J. negative 7.
Everyone starts to leave and Molly and I can't find her boyfriend, or my parents but we do manage to find her parents. Who drove a pick-up. With crap in the back of it. Jackpot. We want to ride, with our beers, in the truck bed. Because it would be totally sweet, duh. Her dad is like, "yeah, ok girls! Climb in!" But Safety Sandy put the kibosh on that idea so the four of us ride back to the thrill upon the hill in the cab of the pick-up. (Coincidentally, this same pick-up I use to drive when I had just gotten my license. Molly and I used it to go rent "Boogie Nights". Another story for another time.) We get to the house and head directly to the pole barn. Didn't collect 200 dollars. We continued to drink (and now smoke sparkling wiggle cigarettes) and random Aunts and Uncles of Molly's start to show up. We all bitch about Gabe marrying the enemy and finally retire around 4 or something.

The End. Happily ever after. Or not. I heart Galapalooza.