The Royal Wedding

I was talking to my friend Petey the other day about his upcoming nuptials. The marriage part, no fear; the part where everyone is staring at you during the service, ugh. Agreed.

Imagine being Kate & Will. Yikes!

Yet, she handled it with poise, sophistication, grace, aplomb, and so on. They both seemed to be cracking up, at times. I even think there was a slight air of "Take this biyotches!" Check. And Mate.

Watching the royal wedding from my couch this morning was fun while the hubby read the tweets from the live bloggers on dlisted. (Did they have to stop to get Camilla an apple or carrot? Touching.)

Vastly different experience than when I was living in Jersey UK in 1986 and Fergie married Prince Andrew. I was working in my girlfriend's health food shop and we, along with all of the shopkeepers in Quennevais Parade, were drinking champagne, waving flags and celebrating. Sure, we were miles away from the event, across the Channel (well, almost), but yet on English soil -- quite the festivity.

I want to agree with John Oliver's coverage on the Daily Show that 80% of Brits don't care about the royal wedding; however, there's something about it that's undeniably cool. Maybe it's the 1936 diamond tiara borrowed from the Queen, the reverential curtsy, the horse drawn carriages (that are downright pretentious for others but seriously awesome if you're royalty), the Union Jack flags lining the streets or, more comprehensively, the fairytale-like nature of the entire event.

Swoon. 

As the cover Newsweek proclaimed a few weeks ago, and a recent sermon in church touched upon, "In a world gone to hell, thank God, a wedding." So true.

Time to put on my white gloves, one finger at a time, and pour myself some Pink Champale.

God Save the Queen

A friend of the hubby posted on his Facebook page last night a listing of many of the bands he loved in the 80s including the B52s, Pretenders, Ramones, and so on. The funny thing: He included Dokken. Dokken, you ask? (Well, I ask. Maybe you ask?)

My mom and I had the pleasure of seeing Dokken one night many moons ago. We had driven to Pittsburgh for the wedding of my mom's best friend's son. The reception took place on a chartered dinner cruise up the famed three rivers (i.e., the Allegheny, Monongahela and Ohio -- thank you Google). The pier was chock full of bizarre-looking people that could have been your stereotypical Aunt Mildred. My mom would pose me next to women who were wearing powder blue lamé dresses, matching eye shadow and stiff, bouffant hairdos just so she could take their pictures without looking too obvious. These women were clearly destined for another boat so timing was of the essence.

After a very nice dinner, the reception kicked into full gear with a DJ flown in from Akron (i.e., a friend of the groom's family). Dancing mayhem ensued including a crowd pleasing slam dance to Ian Hunter's Cleveland Rocks, of course. The whole night felt somewhat like the scene in Sid & Nancy when the Sex Pistols were cruising down the Thames on a river boat playing God Save the Queen and the British police stormed the boat and arrested them. For me, it was the perfect reception. My mom, on the other hand, was immensely grateful when the boat docked.

Little did we know that a surprise was waiting for us. Dokken was playing a free concert in the adjoining festival tent that night so we stopped by. Yeah, me and my mom in our wedding garb amidst a gazillion bikers donning leather vests. Who looks more bizarre now? We only stayed for a few minutes because the music was intolerable and even I had had enough. Apparently, we weren't alone.

The review in the Pittsburgh paper the next day that went something like this, "If you like monosyllabic grunts, then this was the show for you." Well stated!

I'd much rather have seen this show:

Paper Flowers

A friend just sent me a link to a beautiful wedding-related blog called kiss the groom which posted these sweet pictures of paper flowers from the Martha Stewart collection at Michaels.



As we all know, I'm no Martha Stewart; however, I was thrilled to think that the little girls across the street allowed me to semi-channel her for my girlfriend's baby shower in D.C. last month. They armed me with 50 giant, handmade flowers with which to decorate the house.

Why looky here: multicolored, paper flowers hanging from the candelabra, dangling from the ceiling and pinned to everyone's dresses. Not quite as elegant as kiss the groom but, dare I say, equally as festive.



In an semi-related topic, check out the bright pink Dior shoes on this bride from that same blog. These fall into the "Damn, I wish I had thought of that" category. Next time . . . (when we renew our loving vows, of course).

It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

Just to prove there's a market for anything personalized and novel: MatriMonyMony wedding choreographers.



As the text on their homepage states, "We won't wear you out with months of dance lessons. We'll teach you one amazing dance based on your personal style."

How fun would that be? It opens up so many choices beyond the Louis Armstrong and Nat King Cole classics!

But what to choose?
Something soulful yet offbeat like the Velvet Underground's "I'll Be Your Mirror"?
Funny and irreverent such as Social Distortion's "Ball and Chain"?
The swooning, heart pounding, wall of sound with The Ronette's "Be My Baby"?
Or the elegant, simplicity of Dave Edmund's rendition of "Baby I Love You"?

No matter what, I learned one thing at our wedding years ago. If you ask the band not to play "The Chicken Dance," they still will. It's a party favorite and, to its credit, at least it's not as degrading to the bride as the wedding standby, "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." I think that number only works well when your bridesmaids are wearing open back, plus size, cocktail dresses that prominently display their full-back tattoos.

I might just pick the following . . .