About Last Night

Ok, so you aren't going to believe me when I tell you how chaotic my day was, I will just tell it to you like it was without embellishing on anything.

It was J and my anniversary, and we somehow (I'm not going to place blame on here) got double-booked for a wedding and Suzanne Westenhoefer. First of all, I HATE weddings. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE weddings. Reason: Until I am legally allowed to have my own wedding, I shouldn't have to sit through your shit whilst having my nose rubbed in it. Capice? Ok, good.

Well, we got to this wedding, and it was my first at a Catholic Church (read: Cult). WTF is that shit? There's chanting, handshaking, stand up, sit down, kneel, bow, :screeching record: (for those of you who know what those are). In the words of Shirley Q. Liquor, "This ain't church, this is Jazzercise!." The priest apparently had some sort of attention deficit disorder -- the man couldn't stand in once place and talk for any amount of time. He worked the room from the left-side microphone, walked to the back and sat in a chair with his head down like he was napping, then walked to the front-center microphone, then back to stage left, then drank some wine, put his left foot in, put his left foot out...oh you know the rest. Needless to say, I was traumatized. And they think Scientologists are weird? You know what they say about people in glass houses...

So we left the church and headed to the reception, which was held at Le Mont, one of Pittsburgh's most expensive and exclusive restaurants. The view was spectacular, but I know little about the food. You see, the reception started at 5, so I thought I would have plenty of time to eat before running down the mountain. Wrong! The bride and groom didn't arrive at the festivities until 6:30 leaving me time to consume three drinks, hors d'oeuvres, and a salad (I Wanted my Filet Mignon, Dammit!).

Then, like a scene from a bad Disney flick, I had to run, get my car from the valet, and race down Mount Washington to the South Side to meet up w/ Miss Manda for some good ol' lesbian comedic fun. What made this so comical was the fact that while driving down McArdle Roadway, which is Pittsburgh's equivalent of Lombard street (with less curves), I was stripping out of my suit and changing into jeans and a sweater. The only things that I didn't have to change were my underwear and my shoes. Let me tell you, I still managed to look fierce and not at all disheveled!

I got down to the South Side in time to sell off J's ticket to some nice lezzie and then waited for Manda, who I feared had been kidnapped or molested by some wanna-be goth or punk kids (you'd have to know the South side to know how justified that fear is). Manda showed up, winded, from her own adventures in hiking (be on the lookout for that story on her blog...I can't wait!) and we bolted into the theater, and up to the balcony, only missing the first 2 minutes of Suzanne.

The show was awesome, as usual, save for the hard-of-hearing man 10-feet away that had to shout everything to his friends right next to him disturbing our show (Thanks a lot asshole!). I laughed so hard at Suzanne's new material that I almost cried. She seems to have gone back to her older ways of dirty humor, which I LOVED (You go girl!).

By the time the show was over, I had to pee so bad I could taste it, so I ran to the restroom and almost right into some Avril Lavigne-wanna be dykelette standing there saying "you're going to have to wait, we've taken over." I looked at her, looked at the open urinals and said "don't worry honey, I don't have anything you want to see anyway," and made my way to the urinals to pee. The dyke in the stall yells out "hey, I wish I could do that." I then responded with, "You can buy something for that, look into it." Then some other dyke makes her way into the men's loo as I'm zipping up and says "damn, the stalls are filled in here too." I pointed to the now-vacant urinals and said "back your ass up to one of those, no one will care." This got a hearty laugh from the dykes in the stalls.

Post-restroom fiasco, I ran out to meet back up w/ Manda where we decide we need a coffee. Typical Manda (is there such a thing ;-) ) we were passing a chalk board outside of a cafe when she stops, growls, leans over, and then wipes out a totally inappropriate apostrophe. Only you, Manda, only you! We had a good chuckle over that one (and people call me a grammar queen).

After coffee, I called J to see if he is done with the wedding, to which he drunkenly tells me that there are more people there that want to meet me and asked if I could come back. So, there I was, driving down East Carson Street, the groin of Pittsburgh's nightlife, in my Sonata throwing off the sweater and jeans and changing back into a suit while making my way back to the restaurant. People on the street stared, shocked, probably not because I was changing, but because I managed to keep pace with some heavy traffic while doing so.

I seriously don't know how I made it back up to the wedding in 10 minutes and still looked completely kempt. I walked in, feeling like James Bond, and was suddenly swept up into a conga line before taking my place back at my table for cake and much-needed libations.

Labels: observations

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