Feeling...unknown

On Thursday, MMMonoca called me. I approximate the conversation:

Aussie: Hi!
MMMonoca: Hi-ii!!!! What are you doing Saturday. I presume you are busy, but if not, would you like to be my date for a wedding? They have an open bar!!!11
Aussie: I think I can swing that...what time?
MMMonoca: Yay!!!1 I'll drive. Pick you up at 2pm.
Aussie: anything to help a friend!
MMMonoca: Also, Free Booze.
Aussie: Win!

****

Saturday. 8:30am.
MMMonoca, via text: How long does it take to get to Fennville from your house?!?!?!

I didn't realize the wedding was in Fennville..All good!
Aussie: 50-60 minutes.
MMMonoca: also, I'll call you when I'm, near your house. Despite the fact that I have been there MULTIPLE TIMES, I have no idea where it is.
Aussie: Okay!

***

After picking out my jewelry and embarking on our journey on Saturday:
Aussie: Look! Are you there Vodka, It's Me Chelsea ! I love this book! I'll read it to you on the drive!
MMMonoca: First, {locks doors; begins speeding down the highway} you should read the binder on the floor...somewhere. That's what we have to do to set-up the wedding. P.S. We are getting there 3 hours early to set-up the wedding.
Aussie: ...
MMMonoca: Yeah. I told her two weeks ago to let me know if she needs anything, Then we met-up and she gave me this binder with pages of instructions on table-top directions, and .
Aussie: Oh. Dear God.
MMMonic: I know.
Aussie: ...

The bride, who I met on her wedding day, helped for about an hour, until the groom appeared. Then she fled to get ready. I was **shocked**, as an aside, at how long it took her to get ready. We visited to ask a few questions multiple times and she was **still** applying make-up. Friends, I have never applied make-up in my life. I am deathly allergic to it. Deathly. I cannot imagine that it takes an **HOUR**. Jesus. Crisis averted by Aussie.

As we gave-up on finishing touches based-on time constraints and the presence on guests, I wandered to the toilets.

**WARNING. GRAPHIC CONTENT ALERT IN FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH**

I wandered to the toilets to change my tampon. Prior to squatting, I ascertained that the facilities were outhouses in disguise. Horrible rouse, friends. Horrible. It is a testament to love of MMMonoca, I not only urinated, but also changed my tampon in the outhouse. All that was provided for sanitation and hygiene was some half-ply toilet paper and a vat of Meijer-brand Hand Sanitizer.

Gross.

The wedding was lovely. They are an adorable couple. they even physically fit together. Repulsively adorable.

Then, the reception. I was finally allowed to get a drink! Yay! Many minor shenanigans ensued, including, but not limited to: the bride getting muddy, us laying-down a mini golf tarp thing to cover the mud at the bridal seat, distributing paper lanterns, ordering around the caterers, and taking Polaroids of the guests for the guest book.

When the music started, we knew it was getting to be about time to leave...so MMMonoca told the bride that we would be heading out. I would like to at this juncture point out that we were not the first to leave. The bride responded to MMMonoca's perfectly civil "I love you, but we have to get going" with a terse "Whatever."

And then--and I'm not sure how this happened because I was **incredibly** drunk at the time--I was designated the keeper of the top layer of cake. You know, the one that the bride and groom keep for a year in their freezer and then they cut into all cute again on their first anniversary. When we pulled into my driveway, I saw from the light of the door ajar that the cake was, in fact, ruined. The icing design was stuck to the side of the box. Dammit. Bridezilla is going to flip. I'll see if I can fix it, for MMMonoca's sake. Currently, I have a lovely top-tier cake in my freezer. I texted the girl who is supposed to come and get it. No dice. So, if anyone wants stale cake in a year, let me know!

Through all of the drama, at least we agreed on one thing: neither of us will be this high-maintenance at *our* weddings.