May 29, 2005

Wedding Crashers

Wedding Crashers

Okay not really, Tony and I were invited. Well, we were invited because the groom found out that his caterer was one of my favorite Indian restaurants. The food whore is good at not-so-subtly soliciting invitations to places where there will be good food.

Anyway, I picked the title of this post because T and I were talking on the way to the wedding and we think we'd make good wedding crashers. We have no shame, have good conversation skills, can lie at the drop of a hat and worship places where they have free food and liquor. We can cha-cha, do the chicken dance, the electric slide AND don't mind being the first ones out onto the dance floor. We'd crash like it was nobody's business.

So we got to the wedding and literally within 5 minutes I had a plate in hand and was standing in line at the buffet. We thought it was supremely funny that the only person we knew was the groom, so we could totally have been at the wrong wedding and not known it.

Me: Those fricken eggroll things are good as hell.
Tony: What's in them?
Me: I don't know but it's good as hell. Where's that waiter with the tray..
Tony: You already had a whole bunch of them and plus a whole plate of food.
Me: And? There's the waiter. He needs to come over here.
Tony: Use The Force.
Me: I'm trying. Crap, this big lady's in my way. The Force won't go around her.
Tony: I'm going to use The Force to get him to go the other way. HA!
Me: You're an ass. Hold on I'm concentrating. Yes, here he comes. Score.

Prior to dinner they had a whole bunch of Indian dance performances, by the bride and groom's family and friends. It was pretty awesome. I want my friends to do that when Geo and I have our renewal of vows wedding in 2008. Hear that guys? You people are dancing.

Tony: Woman, pour me some soda.
Me: Okay.
Tony: Hey that's not my cup!
Me: It's your cup NOW, bitch.

Tony and I were the only people at the wedding who weren't Indian, except one white guy who was married to an Indian woman. Now I know how Mike J feels when he hangs out with all us Filipinos. Everyone at our table was a lot older than us and pretty much silent. I don't think they said a word to us the entire night. We didn't even see them leave.

Tony: Did you see that?
Me: No, what?
Tony: That woman took our centerpiece.
Me: What woman, was she sitting at our table?
Tony: No, she was from another table. She came over and got it and I thought they were just clearing out all the centerpieces. But it was just ours. We got jacked.
Me: Seriously.
Tony: That was some major jackage.
Me: I can't believe we got centerpiece-jacked. She was stealthy as hell. We're the only ones at this table and I didn't see her at all.
Tony: I know.
Me: Like I didn't want it or anything, but she could have asked.
Tony: She just straight up took it.
Me: Bitch. Should I jack another table for theirs?
Tony: No, we're the only ones here who aren't Indian. We stick out too much.

We were a bit apprehensive about approaching the dance floor because we didn't understand the music, but after awhile they started playing some hip-hop/dance and we made it out there. We were just getting down to that Spanish "Gasolina" song (that Tony enlightened me is about a chick who likes sperm) when the DJ blew a fuse. So the dance floor cleared after that and never quite recovered. I of course, found the dessert table with a quickness when the lights came on.

Tony: What is that?
Me: Gulab Jamun.
Tony: Huh?
Me: It's like these little sweet balls made of bread that's been sweetened and then soaked in... warm sweetness. Fuck. That doesn't even make any sense.
Tony: Um okay, no sticky sweet balls for me.
Me: Here just try it.
Tony: Hey, you dropped some juice from your sticky ball on my jacket.
Me: Sorry, my balls are so sloppy.

Tony and I are 12-year-olds so of course we snickered throughout this entire conversation.

Everyone at the wedding kept looking at us like we were total wedding crashers, until we took a picture with the bride and groom. Then everyone was like "Ohhhh okay, they DO know them." Plus we chit-chatted and schmoozed and looked like great friends so people stopped giving us suspicious looks.

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I was the only woman in the entire place who wasn't
wearing a sari.
I want a sari! I like this one.

All in all, a good time, despite the fact that there was no bar. What? Yeah you heard me, NO BAR. There was however, a Friday's in the same parking lot as the hotel. We stared at it for a solid three minutes before deciding to stick around. I consider it a moral victory that we didn't give in to the temptation. Jesus had his desert and we had the parking lot of the Ramada in East Brunswick.

Tony: It feels very weird to be going home from a wedding sober.
Me: Yeah. I don't think I've ever done it before. Ever.
Tony: Yeah me neither.
Me: It's unsettling.
Tony: Yes it is.
Me: Everyone knows the best way to celebrate a couple's love is by getting trashed.
Tony: I might have to come into your house and do a shot or something.
Me: I've got 7 and tequila.

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