Bode and Greg came to my house for 7 p.m., and I drove us to Westwego for Christina's wedding Saturday night. Did I want to drive? No. I wanted to get drunk at the reception. But the burden fell on me.
In the foreign land of the West Bank, I missed the turn on River Road that Betsy had instructed me to take. I drove two miles farther and headed for River Road. Unfortunately, I caught a train. We tried to go around it, but the road ended, causing us to take the scenic route through some neighborhoods.
This was the second time Greg and I have caught a train driving to a friend's wedding. When Greg drove to Kelli's wedding, the same thing happened. Call it our prenuptials tradition.
After five minutes, the train passed, and we still arrived at the wedding in plenty of time. I'm pretty sure, though, that if I had made the first turn to River Road, I would have beaten the train. But then we wouldn't have this tradition.
For the limited time given to plan a wedding ceremony at what was supposed to be just a reception, the wedding went smoothly. The minister thanked us for our prayers. "Eighty percent chance of rain, and look at it." There wasn't a cloud in the sky.
Christina got a little choked up during the vows but was able to hold back the tears. A real heartwarming moment. I also learned that her middle name is Marie. So is Tina's.
Then, we hit the reception, where I immediately loosened my tie. Here are the rest of the highlights from Saturday night:
1) As the photographer snapped shots of the guest book, I hustled the few steps from our table to the stand. Me (charmingly): "Need a hand model?"
Photographer: "Sure!"
And I made the photo album, especially with those sexy action shots where I dot my "i" and cross my "t." I believe I was the best hand model since David Duchovny in Zoolander.
2) Amanda, Jesse and I discussed Lost for an hour. I enjoyed their huddles when they decided whether or not they could say something without giving away Season 4 or 5 secrets.
3) They didn't play "Don't Stop Believin'." Oh, well. Their loss. I was ready, too.
4) Timmy and Kevin kept up with the LSU-Georgia baseball game. Which was fine as long as someone didn't blab the Lakers-Nuggets Game 3 score because I taped the game.
I told Kevin not to tell me if he saw it on his phone, but as we were walking out, he announced that the Lakers won by six. Me: "You son of a bitch."
5) Quote of the night:
Amanda (to Jesse): One more drink and you'll be out there (on the dance floor).
Jesse: One more drink and this next piece of cake, and I'll be in the bathroom.
6) I had five jack and cokes from 8:30 p.m. to 11 p.m, along with some crawfish pasta. Then, I drove home across the Huey P. Don't worry, though. I kind of drove in both lanes. I did not vomit.
THE TINA CURSING CORNER
My mom and I cleaned my back room today. Oh what an adventure we had. It was a six-hour process. Mom was frustrated for a good bit of it. Enjoy.
"Jesus fucking Christ. You got some fucking shit. The crap is fucking everywhere."
"Where's my fucking screw?"
"You done fucked up, Tina."
"I mean it's fucking chewed gum. It's fucking unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable."
Mom almost breaks one of my picture frames, and I say something. "At this point, I don't give a fuck."
"Jesus fucking Christ. How am I going to clean this room. It's like a useless fucking room where you just put everything. Fucking Britney shit."
Three hours in. "I'm already fucking tired."
"Now, the fucking sun decides to come out."
"You have all this bullshit."
I'm dusting off a shelf full of mom's books. "What the fuck am I doing with a tour guide?"
"What the fuck you keeping all this shit for? Don't you throw anything away? Fucking disgraceful." (When it was all said and done, I had four boxes full of stuff to throw away. I also piled up THIRTY T-shirts to give away.)
"My fucking neck hurts."
I put all the hats I actually wear on my hat rack. The rest, which were scattered throughout my two rooms, were put into a box and stored away. "We got to get rid of this fucking table with all these hats on it. It's in the way."
"That's what you do. Pile on top of fucking pile on top of fucking pile until there's 150 piles."
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Later on, mom is watching The Young & the Restless. "What the fuck's going on? I can't figure this one out." Sharon and Jack are arguing. Mom yells at Sharon: "He knows you're fucking him."
Mom switches the channel to do some home shopping. "Look at her. Elizabeth Hassel whatever the fuck her name is. I can't stand her. She's always pregnant. And now she's fucking selling clothes on QVC."
THE DAILY TOP LIST
The top five things yelled out at work one night that caught everyone's attention and since may have become a catchphrase.
5) We rollin' now. D. 2009.
On a busy night about a month ago, D got excited because he had just finished a story and knew he had only one left for the night.
D: Yes, sir. Just got the NBA roundup to go. We rollin' now!
Liam: It's deadline, D.
D: Oh.
4) His name is Joe. Derry. 2008.
During the height of the Joe the Plumber phenomenon, I say that his actually name is Samuel.
Derry: No. His name is Joe.
Me: His middle name is Joseph. His first name is Samuel.
Derry (a little louder): Whatever. His name is Joe.
Me: He might go by Joe, but his given name is Samuel. Joe the Plumber just sounds better.
Derry (screaming): His name is Joe!
3) He fell like a girl. Me. Sept. 19, 2006.
LSU receiver Craig Davis was tackled at the 4-yard line on the final play as LSU lost to Auburn 7-3. I thought the hit was kind of weak, and Davis could have broken it to score the winning touchdown. I yelled: "That was terrible. He fell like a girl."
Nobody agreed, saying the Auburn guy put a solid hit on Davis. So, now when someone is smashed to the turf or to the floor in basketball, a co-worker will say something like, "He fall like a girl, too?"
2) Send it now. Derry. 2005?
JRap is reading a story, and deadline is approaching. Derry asks JRap to send it to him.
JRap: Almost done.
Derry: We got to go.
JRap: One second.
Derry: Send it now!
JRap: OK.
And JRap did. Without a headline.
1) Jesus, Billy. 2002.
I was one of seven or eight people taking prep football calls at the time. We were getting slammed one Friday night, and the lines were all busy. Prep editor Billy asks for whoever is on the phone to switch to their own line to unjam the main lines.
No one adheres to the demand. Billy, a minister, gets enraged and walks over to our area and yells. Tommy, trying to get the boss to easy it up a bit, says: "Jesus, Billy!"
The room went silent. I don't think anyone spoke for the rest of the night. Well, except for the yelling match that ensued between Billy and Tommy. Good times.
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