When Chris started working at the Law Firm in 2013, we became pretty fast friends. And after I met her girlfriend Monica, they both became two of my favorite people of all time, and I just can’t speak highly enough of them. Chris proposed to Monica later that year and I was so excited for them, like genuinely excited!
(Being proposed to. I WONDER WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE.)
I even had the honor of taking their engagement pictures on what felt like the coldest day of the winter. But it was totally worth it!
Chris ended up abandoning me last fall when she left the Law Firm, and we did the whole “Keep in touch” song and dance, and you know how that goes. I don’t ever see anyone I used to work with at other jobs, which is really depressing, but I guess that’s life.
(You can only invite old co-workers to so many game nights and pie parties before you have to accept the fact that their unwillingness to RSVP might actually supposed to be sending a message.)
But in Chris’s case, we actually have kept in touch and I am so thankful for that because she and Monica have become very great friends to not just me, but Henry and Chooch, too. We still have ice cream dates and Monica still ruthlessly trolls Chooch, and I even got to help paint some pumpkins for their wedding. Which, you know, was really just manual labor masked as a casual hang-out sesh, but still — I’ll take it.
(I was a Girl Scout, OK? Making friends is important to me!)
Anyway, all of this is a long-winded, cavity-inducing preface to say that on Saturday, we attended the wedding of Chris and Monica, which they perfectly dubbed early on as Chronica2015. It was a beautiful evening at the George Washington Hotel in Washington, PA and now I’m going to bombard this space with a ton of pictures because I was giddy, punch drunk, and in a frenzy to capture as much as I could.
I was very intent on having the three of us subtly match. I bought my dress first, a Modcloth masterpiece* of flowers, foxes, and squirrels. I wore maroon tights with it, so I bought Chooch a pair of maroon slacks (lol, slacks) and a gray shirt, and then Henry bought a maroon dress shirt with a gray tie to match Chooch’s shirt.
“I just want us to look like a cohesive unit!” I cried, and they were just like STFU, woman.
Everything was looking pretty good until Chooch jacked up the whole palette with his idiotic bow tie from Spirit Halloween. Oh well – you win some, you lose some.
*(LOL, no. Modcloth is so misleading. The dress fit me so awkwardly in the arms and on the way to the wedding, I was tugging at it and squirming around in the passenger seat, crying about how I was never going to make it through the evening, but then I got drunk pretty quickly and was fine. Modcloth (n): clothing that fits fine once you’re too drunk to notice that one arm is longer than the other.)
I was mildly concerned that Chooch was going to be That Kid who disrupted the ceremony with his unstoppable motor mouth or ill-timed vomiting (you never know what Henry feeds us!), but he sat quietly and was genuinely interested in what was going on, and also checking my face constantly for tears gave him purpose because he’s a jerk.
(I did cry. Kind of a lot. It was just so wonderful and the readings were perfect! One was from the Princess Bride, I think!)
A few days before the wedding, I asked Chooch if he was cry. I assumed that he was going to snap, “No!” right away, but instead, he considered this for a few seconds before answering, “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t decided.” And then, “Are there going to be snacks?” Like he was already planning on stuffing my meat cleaver purse with snack-packs of Goldfish and Go-gurt.
Both brides were absolute beauties.But in all honesty, they could have just walked down the aisle in clothes dirty and tattered from an afternoon of being chased through a muddy forest in Texas by Leatherface and still looked amazing because, and here’s the part where you’ll want to hold on to your gag reflex, they had that TRULUV thing going on. I kept looking over at Henry and thinking, “should we do this or nah.”
But then my Magic 8 ball cracked and that blue ink shit got in my mouth and I died.
The ceremony was fast-paced and succinct without feeling rushed. All of the weddings I’ve attended as an adult have been pretty snappy, but I definitely have terrible childhood memories of sweating for an hour on an uncomfortable church pew during family weddings. Catholics, man.
Then it was time for cocktail hour! Or, as Chooch referred to it: Snack Time.
PRESENT. Henry wrapped it.
Cocktail hour was held upstairs in the space outside of the ballroom. I ran straight to the bar and grabbed the signature cocktail: apple cider margarita, yes. I sucked it back real quick and Henry gave me the “Watch it!” face that fathers are born with.
I switched to wine after this because the apple cider margaritas refused to be sipped slowly.
I helped paint some of those pumpkins! Chris gave me cake to take home in return, so it was pretty fair.
Chooch chose the very spot to sign, because why wouldn’t he. Henry reluctantly signed it much later in the evening because he hates doing things at the same time as us. God forbid anyone thinks we’re a COHESIVE UNIT.
Chooch stuck a pineapple slice from the “snack table” onto the rim of his pineapple juice and said, “Nailed it.” Then he proceeded to call it his cup of urine for the rest of the night.
Far in the distance, you might spot one Maestro Chooch sitting at the piano while Lauren and Tony helplessly look on. I eventually went over to fetch him and luckily, the din was just loud enough that probably no one heard him actually tickling (or tackling, in his case) the ivory.
Henri the Manservant fetching us more drinks.
His book kept him busy.
LOL, just kidding. There were way too many adults around for him to pester.
Ladies room selfie from the haunted basement! My all-time favorite thing to do at places like this is EXPLORE. Thank god Chooch was there because Henry was like, “No, we were assigned to Table 15, and that is where I’m staying.”
I’m glad that Monica let Chooch be invited, because he and I had a ridiculous amount of fun.
The infamous Table 15. Dun dun dunnn.
So autumnal and cozy! I loved our Table 15. It was The Law Firm table, rounded out by Nate and April, and Lauren and Tony. I was happy to not have to struggle with awkward small talk! However, if you ask Henry, I was hammered before we even sat down, so I probably would have done a fine job carrying on a slurred convo about various skeletons in my closet and the time Henry viciously chucked a muffin at my head, because that’s what I do when I’m drunk: make people feel uncomfortable from my real talk.
Lots more photos to post! Check back soon! Unless you hate weddings!