you shook me all night long

As might be expected at the end of a wedding in which the bride and groom were Irish Catholic and Italian Catholic respectively, I'm quite drunk. Not to the point that I'm in danger of getting impregnated or anything else, but still - I am perhaps not the best rolemodel for this nation's youth at this point in my life. I started off at 4pm with a gin and tonic (ill-advised), then had innumerable champagne cocktails (the signature drink at the wedding was something called Coming Up Roses - a mix of Bacardi Raspberry, lime juice, champagne, and an organic rose petal with a wedge of lime). But clearly everyone else's judgment reached a nadir as well; when I tripped on my own flipflops and wiped out on the steps leading to the dance floor, a nice man in plaid pants decided that the answer to my clumsiness was to get me another cocktail. Clever!

sssssanyway, I had a totally fabulous time at this wedding, even if Catholic weddings last longer than some Protestant marriage/divorce combos. The wedding was in the basilica at the Mission San Juan Capistrano -- I didn't know that cathedrals in North America were covered in so much gold, but the setting was incredible. The reception was in an equally-incredible venue -- a very old mission-style house that has been renovated lovingly, and that I ached to live in someday. It was all perfect, and Pete and Bridget are an amazing and beautiful couple, so it was all v. fitting.

The night ended v. surreally; of course, any reception that starts at 4:30 and has an open bar and no real dinner (passed hors d'oevres, which were incredible - quail egg, lambchops, truffle/fava bean crostini, meatballs, prosciutto-wrapped dates, etc.) is bound to be a disaster, particularly if the open bar lasts until eleven. Our shuttle actually stopped at Del Taco, where it apparently broke down, and so we walked three blocks down the highway back to the hotel, where Heather and I ate our burritos and decided to go to bed.

Allow me to say two tings (not that you have a choice): 1) if you are somewhat random peripheral guests, there is no greater pleasure than recognizing and hanging out with another peripheral guest. Raj, who works on the same floor as me, showed up at the wedding, and while I barely know him, I have never been happier to see him in my entire life. 2) the dude in the plaid pants, who got me a cocktail after I fell on the cobblestones, is apparently a high-enough exec at A&E -- and he spent an inordinate amount of time grilling me about my love life, and expressing shock and appallment at the fact that I'm not getting laid every weekend. Apologies if that fact shocks you, dear reader -- it shocked me too, but I of course appreciate the implied praise beneath the awkward sentiment.

Now, though, it's time for bed -- apparently I wasn't drunk enough to deliver the typo-laden stream-of-consciousness blog that you all love, but my head will hopefully thank me for it tomorrow. Goodnight!