Meme, and the wedding
Jan. 20th, 2008 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ellyssian, when I was tagged *ages* ago.
A. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
B. Tag seven people to do the same.
C. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it".
1. Dessert is not dessert unless it's accompanied by a cup of strong coffee. Never underestimate a good cup of coffee with a small drop of cream, especially if it chases bites of rich chocolate cake.
2. I find an instant dislike for people who label themselves "brutally honest", or variations thereof. More often than not, it's hip code for "I'm an unapologetic dick". It is possible to be honest without being an ass, trust me.
3. I have a habit of signing up for things with the intention of bettering myself - gym, newspapers, magazine, groups, organizations - without following through. Me and everyone else, I know, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. I still hope to take in an arts event at least once a week this year, but everything else is up in the air.
4. My facial default seems to be "dour". This is in no way indicative of my current state of mind; I just don't smile when I'm not thinking of anything in particular. However, this does not mean that I tolerate strangers telling me to smile.
5. I like pleasant surprises. A lot. Really, it's scary how much an unexpected good event can brighten my day. I'm quite easy in that regard. I'm the type of person who would swear up and down she doesn't want a party, but would love you forever if you snuck one up on me. Then again, my party specifications would make me fairly high maintenance.
6. Watching bad things is physically painful for me. I'd like to go all MST3k on things, but the cringe factor is entirely too much for me to make it through most times. This explains why I'm pretty sure I'll never revisit QAF US ever ever ever again.
7. Green is my favorite color. I think I decided upon it when I consciously decided against anything too overtly "girly" back in elementary. I wouldn't don pink if my life depended on it.
I tag:pr_spin_girl, modpixie, darker_one, atraxia, devoosha, wolfsavard, doc_drew.
No obligations, of course. ::readies the ninja lemurs::
**
Since bro and I were supposed to be picked up by the bride's father at 6AM ("in the morning?!?", my brother asked me, with the most hilarious expression on his face), I'd set my alarm for 4:30. Hey, I had a hair and makeup regiment to go through. I was still pretty ambivalent about the new dress - it fit better than the last one (on it's way through the post to Ann Taylor Online as I type this) - but I couldn't find a bra that didn't show in the back. My puppies need major support, in case that wasn't clear. I'd ended up buying a bra as close in color to the dress as possible and figured I'd hope for the best. Or throw on a translucent cream-colored shawl and pray it didn't look too bad.
The way things worked out, I shouldn't have worried. We got over to the bride's house around 7:00AM (her father was late in picking us up, and my brother was even later in getting his ass out to the car), where we were met by the bride's mother's parents. My brother later commented that it was the warmest greeting he'd ever gotten from complete strangers, and I completely concurred. Her grandmother ran up to me with open arms, squealed "Daniella!", kissed me on both cheeks, and then babbled on in Romanian and broken English for a good minute. It was *awesome*. She then went over to greet my brother in the same manner (sans the "Daniella!", of course), when I was enveloped by the grandfather. It was a great way to begin the day. After I introduced both of them to my brother (his name being difficult for them to pronounce, they jokingly began to refer to him as "Daniel"), the grandmother brough out the shawl she'd made (!) for me and the other bridesmaids. It was made of chocolate brown iridescent cloth embroidered with vines and flowers, lined with a lighter brown satin fabric. The shawl was beautiful, and I told her so in pidgin Spanish and Italian, because she and her husband spoke a bit of the former language, and because I tend to be a blithering idiot when I'm wake and starving at 7:15 in the morning.
It took all of us another 15 minutes or so to pile into the waiting stretch Hummer, and we left to go pick up the parents of the groom and one of his brother, a groomsman (? is that the correct term?) and the fellow who'd accompany me. Let's call him...Patrick. I'd met Patrick at Thursdays rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. He struck me as nice enough, but a bit weird on the socialization scale. I don't know how to describe it. You know how people seem to be "funny", and not ha-ha. This was Patrick. Again, he was nice, but weird.
After picked up the groom's family we went straight to the Cathedral, where the all of us were dropped off as the Hummer and the bride's dad went to pick up the rest of the bridal party at the hotel at which they they were staying. Bro got an impromptu tour of the Cathedral from a disarmingly eager father, while I went to the restroom in a hurried attempt to do something with my face and hair (again, I know). Afterwards I socialized a bit while dying of hunger, then sent my brother out to hunt down some coffee. Before sending him out I discovered that, in my rush to leave the house, I'd left my wallet at home. This meant we'd have to make do with the $20 my brother miraculously managed to bring with him (the boy is usually broke as a joke). Joy. If I hadn't sealed the envelope with the bride's and groom's gift in it I would have been more sorely tempted to take out a twenty.
He and I drank our overpriced hot chocolate and coffee (respectively) while we waited for everyone to show up. The ceremony got underway around 10:30. The bride was, of course, beautiful (do they look any other way on their big day?), and the groom looked nervous as fuck (same commentary as for the bride). As a bridesmaid in an Orthodox wedding, I was obligated to walk in with my accompanying groomsman, holding my decorative bouquet (a lovely collection of white roses surrounded by a number of real-looking mini green apples), then stand on one side of the rug in front the sanctified Holy Bible for the entirety of the ceremony. Ohe hour of standing while wearing very cute but very uncomfortable low-heeled shows. I would have felt worse if the bridal party, the groom's men, and the couple themselves were the only people standing, but in Orthodox ceremonies everyone either stands or kneels for the services. There were chairs set up in the Cathedral, but those were simply a formality. The ceremony was nice, but I think my overall feelings about things were tempered by the absolutely agony my legs and feet were going through. Orthodoxy simply isn't made for people with gimpy legs. I didn't start with the waterworks, but the bride and her sister (the maid of honor) did enough sniffling for everyone in the room.
Things wrapped up with a greeting of the bride and groom and their parties, photo ops in the church, and then we loaded into the Hummer and headed over to Grand Central for some more pictures, while the rest of the guests headed to the reception (held in a Greek restaurant). While we were setting up for the various pictures in Grand Central random folks snapped pictures of us (why? I got the feeling married couples stepping in for photo ops was a fairly common occurrence). Then we went on the grub ourselves, proceeding in to much fanfare for the bride and groom, and all that cute stuff. The food itself was good, if sparse, but the wine kept coming (you'd turn around with a half-empty glass, glance back, and all of a sudden your glass was full), so we were generally buzzed enough to ignore the occasion growl of our stomachs. There were toasts and speeches by the best man and maid of honor (seriously, I'd like a little more than "I remember when" anecdotes from people in my wedding), then began the dancing. Before we headed to the reception my brother and I bet on music that we were sure we'd never hear being spun by the DJ. He had money on anything by Little Jon, I had money on "The Electric Slide". I won. We both ran from the dancefloor once the Electric Slide music began, but then I felt bad because *none* of the people there knew how to do it. How do you *not* know how to Electric Slide? I think I've been spoiled by all the black parties I've been to.
That's another thing - this being an Orthodox/Jewish/Lutheran union, there were...well, let's just say my brother and I more or less represented the black people at this shindig. I feel like the DJ pulled out a couple hip-hop songs just for us, but then he'd go right back to the rock music or Romanian music. My brother and I could sort of do something with the Venezuelan music, seeing as the beat was very similar to Trinidadian parang (Spanish-influenced calypso music), but asking us to dance to the Beatle's "Love Me Do" was a bit too much. I love to dance, but I'm not keen on "droppin[g] it like it's hot" or "getting low", or all the myriad of gravity-defying things young people inevitably end up doing at parties in my circle. And I know that not all white people are unable to dance (some of them were kickin' it to the Romanian music). But, JESUS, I felt like fuckin' Debbie Allen at this thing. How can people mess up the two-step?? IT'S THE TWO STEP. I was dancing with absolutely no shame, because even at my worse I was blowing these people out of the water. God GAWD, it was embarrassingly hilarious, some of the things I saw perpetrated on the dance floor. Mind, not everyone was hideously bad, but it made for some great comedy.
Then Patrick decided to dance with me for a bit. The boy had, like, two leaden left feet. It would have been more hilarious if it wasn't cute. And sad. Cutely sad. On the last song I ended up grabbing his hips and physically directing him where I wanted him to go. Sort of provocative, but it was either that or limp off the dance floor because he'd crushed my feet to pulp. When I told him I was going to go he (*groan*) kissed my hand. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do more: die of laughter, die of shame, or take him home and teach him how to interact with women. He was so awkward he made ME look socially ept. Poor thing. I can't help but think about him and shake my head.
Bro and I ended up leaving via subway. It was fun riding the trains in our formal wear, my long dress inevitably dragging behind me and threatening to trip me at every turn (and I mean that sincerely). I was a bit pissed that I left my bridemaid bouquet in the reception hall by mistake, and that I dropped my mini-celebratory bottle of Sparkling Cider on the steps up to the uptown F train at 14th street, but other than that I had a surprisingly good time. Who knew?
Now I get ready to watch the Giants dominate Green Bay (*snort* I can dream, can't I?) with beer and pizza by my side. Let's go, Big Blue!
P.S. Hey, Torchwood actually *isn't* that bad. Ha.
ellyssian, when I was tagged *ages* ago. A. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
B. Tag seven people to do the same.
C. Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it".
1. Dessert is not dessert unless it's accompanied by a cup of strong coffee. Never underestimate a good cup of coffee with a small drop of cream, especially if it chases bites of rich chocolate cake.
2. I find an instant dislike for people who label themselves "brutally honest", or variations thereof. More often than not, it's hip code for "I'm an unapologetic dick". It is possible to be honest without being an ass, trust me.
3. I have a habit of signing up for things with the intention of bettering myself - gym, newspapers, magazine, groups, organizations - without following through. Me and everyone else, I know, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. I still hope to take in an arts event at least once a week this year, but everything else is up in the air.
4. My facial default seems to be "dour". This is in no way indicative of my current state of mind; I just don't smile when I'm not thinking of anything in particular. However, this does not mean that I tolerate strangers telling me to smile.
5. I like pleasant surprises. A lot. Really, it's scary how much an unexpected good event can brighten my day. I'm quite easy in that regard. I'm the type of person who would swear up and down she doesn't want a party, but would love you forever if you snuck one up on me. Then again, my party specifications would make me fairly high maintenance.
6. Watching bad things is physically painful for me. I'd like to go all MST3k on things, but the cringe factor is entirely too much for me to make it through most times. This explains why I'm pretty sure I'll never revisit QAF US ever ever ever again.
7. Green is my favorite color. I think I decided upon it when I consciously decided against anything too overtly "girly" back in elementary. I wouldn't don pink if my life depended on it.
I tag:
pr_spin_girl, modpixie, darker_one, atraxia, devoosha, wolfsavard, doc_drew. No obligations, of course. ::readies the ninja lemurs::
**
Since bro and I were supposed to be picked up by the bride's father at 6AM ("in the morning?!?", my brother asked me, with the most hilarious expression on his face), I'd set my alarm for 4:30. Hey, I had a hair and makeup regiment to go through. I was still pretty ambivalent about the new dress - it fit better than the last one (on it's way through the post to Ann Taylor Online as I type this) - but I couldn't find a bra that didn't show in the back. My puppies need major support, in case that wasn't clear. I'd ended up buying a bra as close in color to the dress as possible and figured I'd hope for the best. Or throw on a translucent cream-colored shawl and pray it didn't look too bad.
The way things worked out, I shouldn't have worried. We got over to the bride's house around 7:00AM (her father was late in picking us up, and my brother was even later in getting his ass out to the car), where we were met by the bride's mother's parents. My brother later commented that it was the warmest greeting he'd ever gotten from complete strangers, and I completely concurred. Her grandmother ran up to me with open arms, squealed "Daniella!", kissed me on both cheeks, and then babbled on in Romanian and broken English for a good minute. It was *awesome*. She then went over to greet my brother in the same manner (sans the "Daniella!", of course), when I was enveloped by the grandfather. It was a great way to begin the day. After I introduced both of them to my brother (his name being difficult for them to pronounce, they jokingly began to refer to him as "Daniel"), the grandmother brough out the shawl she'd made (!) for me and the other bridesmaids. It was made of chocolate brown iridescent cloth embroidered with vines and flowers, lined with a lighter brown satin fabric. The shawl was beautiful, and I told her so in pidgin Spanish and Italian, because she and her husband spoke a bit of the former language, and because I tend to be a blithering idiot when I'm wake and starving at 7:15 in the morning.
It took all of us another 15 minutes or so to pile into the waiting stretch Hummer, and we left to go pick up the parents of the groom and one of his brother, a groomsman (? is that the correct term?) and the fellow who'd accompany me. Let's call him...Patrick. I'd met Patrick at Thursdays rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. He struck me as nice enough, but a bit weird on the socialization scale. I don't know how to describe it. You know how people seem to be "funny", and not ha-ha. This was Patrick. Again, he was nice, but weird.
After picked up the groom's family we went straight to the Cathedral, where the all of us were dropped off as the Hummer and the bride's dad went to pick up the rest of the bridal party at the hotel at which they they were staying. Bro got an impromptu tour of the Cathedral from a disarmingly eager father, while I went to the restroom in a hurried attempt to do something with my face and hair (again, I know). Afterwards I socialized a bit while dying of hunger, then sent my brother out to hunt down some coffee. Before sending him out I discovered that, in my rush to leave the house, I'd left my wallet at home. This meant we'd have to make do with the $20 my brother miraculously managed to bring with him (the boy is usually broke as a joke). Joy. If I hadn't sealed the envelope with the bride's and groom's gift in it I would have been more sorely tempted to take out a twenty.
He and I drank our overpriced hot chocolate and coffee (respectively) while we waited for everyone to show up. The ceremony got underway around 10:30. The bride was, of course, beautiful (do they look any other way on their big day?), and the groom looked nervous as fuck (same commentary as for the bride). As a bridesmaid in an Orthodox wedding, I was obligated to walk in with my accompanying groomsman, holding my decorative bouquet (a lovely collection of white roses surrounded by a number of real-looking mini green apples), then stand on one side of the rug in front the sanctified Holy Bible for the entirety of the ceremony. Ohe hour of standing while wearing very cute but very uncomfortable low-heeled shows. I would have felt worse if the bridal party, the groom's men, and the couple themselves were the only people standing, but in Orthodox ceremonies everyone either stands or kneels for the services. There were chairs set up in the Cathedral, but those were simply a formality. The ceremony was nice, but I think my overall feelings about things were tempered by the absolutely agony my legs and feet were going through. Orthodoxy simply isn't made for people with gimpy legs. I didn't start with the waterworks, but the bride and her sister (the maid of honor) did enough sniffling for everyone in the room.
Things wrapped up with a greeting of the bride and groom and their parties, photo ops in the church, and then we loaded into the Hummer and headed over to Grand Central for some more pictures, while the rest of the guests headed to the reception (held in a Greek restaurant). While we were setting up for the various pictures in Grand Central random folks snapped pictures of us (why? I got the feeling married couples stepping in for photo ops was a fairly common occurrence). Then we went on the grub ourselves, proceeding in to much fanfare for the bride and groom, and all that cute stuff. The food itself was good, if sparse, but the wine kept coming (you'd turn around with a half-empty glass, glance back, and all of a sudden your glass was full), so we were generally buzzed enough to ignore the occasion growl of our stomachs. There were toasts and speeches by the best man and maid of honor (seriously, I'd like a little more than "I remember when" anecdotes from people in my wedding), then began the dancing. Before we headed to the reception my brother and I bet on music that we were sure we'd never hear being spun by the DJ. He had money on anything by Little Jon, I had money on "The Electric Slide". I won. We both ran from the dancefloor once the Electric Slide music began, but then I felt bad because *none* of the people there knew how to do it. How do you *not* know how to Electric Slide? I think I've been spoiled by all the black parties I've been to.
That's another thing - this being an Orthodox/Jewish/Lutheran union, there were...well, let's just say my brother and I more or less represented the black people at this shindig. I feel like the DJ pulled out a couple hip-hop songs just for us, but then he'd go right back to the rock music or Romanian music. My brother and I could sort of do something with the Venezuelan music, seeing as the beat was very similar to Trinidadian parang (Spanish-influenced calypso music), but asking us to dance to the Beatle's "Love Me Do" was a bit too much. I love to dance, but I'm not keen on "droppin[g] it like it's hot" or "getting low", or all the myriad of gravity-defying things young people inevitably end up doing at parties in my circle. And I know that not all white people are unable to dance (some of them were kickin' it to the Romanian music). But, JESUS, I felt like fuckin' Debbie Allen at this thing. How can people mess up the two-step?? IT'S THE TWO STEP. I was dancing with absolutely no shame, because even at my worse I was blowing these people out of the water. God GAWD, it was embarrassingly hilarious, some of the things I saw perpetrated on the dance floor. Mind, not everyone was hideously bad, but it made for some great comedy.
Then Patrick decided to dance with me for a bit. The boy had, like, two leaden left feet. It would have been more hilarious if it wasn't cute. And sad. Cutely sad. On the last song I ended up grabbing his hips and physically directing him where I wanted him to go. Sort of provocative, but it was either that or limp off the dance floor because he'd crushed my feet to pulp. When I told him I was going to go he (*groan*) kissed my hand. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do more: die of laughter, die of shame, or take him home and teach him how to interact with women. He was so awkward he made ME look socially ept. Poor thing. I can't help but think about him and shake my head.
Bro and I ended up leaving via subway. It was fun riding the trains in our formal wear, my long dress inevitably dragging behind me and threatening to trip me at every turn (and I mean that sincerely). I was a bit pissed that I left my bridemaid bouquet in the reception hall by mistake, and that I dropped my mini-celebratory bottle of Sparkling Cider on the steps up to the uptown F train at 14th street, but other than that I had a surprisingly good time. Who knew?
Now I get ready to watch the Giants dominate Green Bay (*snort* I can dream, can't I?) with beer and pizza by my side. Let's go, Big Blue!
P.S. Hey, Torchwood actually *isn't* that bad. Ha.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-01-20 08:50 pm (UTC)...I love you. COME to Butthead. :P
no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 05:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-20 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 05:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-20 11:38 pm (UTC)You don't like QAF? :(
I finally completed the series just recently; I cried at the end. (Yes, I'm a total pussy, I make no hesitation in admitting it.)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 05:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-21 06:28 pm (UTC)I bet their uniforms were fabulous. (IOW, cute typo. :p )
no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 11:21 pm (UTC)Tells you where my head is at: first thing I thought is "that's dirty". Yeah, okay. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-22 11:26 pm (UTC)Yeah, leave it. I love typos that do fun things to my imagination. Half the time, I'm tempted to not correct myself.
But I'm too nit-picky about it. :(