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When Worlds Collide: Part II

Permalink 12/13/08 at 08:09:18 am, by Ed, 422 words   English (US)
Categories: General, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I'm not sure if this should go on the Wedding blog or my blog. So I put it on both.

The short version: Bridget and I were dress shopping for the wedding. Wedding ensues.

The long version: I was playing Metroid Corruption 3 last night, and the area outside the dress shop looks an awful lot like the Space Pirate Mining Facility. Michelle Obama was outside the store to greet us and bring us in. We stood in line, several girls in front of us. They all seemed to be part of the same group, as they all left at once. We got to the desk and discussed some options for dresses. None of them were white, and absolutely none of them covered more than half the body.

After the lady at the desk came back with the first dress for Bridget to try on, she put it on (with some difficulty) and liked it so much, we decided to get it. So Barack Obama (the owner) came out and we went over the paperwork. Turns out you need a president(-elect)ial pardon to get married now.

Then we got to the wedding. It was in a gigantic empty barn. I'm not sure who, or what, the minister was. We were never actually at the altar (there being no altar). And there were certainly no pews. It was more like... Woodstock, or something. Not the performing, but the audience, just laying out on the grass, not necessarily paying attention to what's going on.

Bridget had a large, maroon air mattress out on her side of the aisle and was laying on it with her mom and some friends. I convinced them to drag it to the center, near the aisle, so that I could at least be near my side of the aisle if I was going to lay on the air mattress with her and her friends. I wanted to feel accepted as in her group of friends, after all.

I don't think there was actually any ceremony. Just a bunch of our family and friends laying in a large field under a barn roof, talking.

You know how strange other customs are... You do some ritual they're really giddy about, like place a kumquat on the grave of some old guy's favorite cousin, and suddenly you've got seven wives. Well, by our customs, the meeting of two families wherein nobody gets killed is close enough to a wedding that we could now claim tax-exempt status. Barack Obama told me so.

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