I have returned from the southland, following the very excellent nuptials of Nick and Shelley, as mentioned last week. It was the most wonderful wedding I've been to all year (which is saying something, as this was my fifth in seven months), and it was also an occasion during which I exhibited a higher concentration of slobbiness than I have since I was five. It was at once hilarious and tragic.
So, you see, I have this dress. I fell in love with it two summers ago, bought it on the spot, and never wore it. On several occasions, I've literally had the dress on and then changed right before I ran out the door. It was too dressy for some events and not fancy enough for others. But for this wedding, it was juuust riiight. So I wore it, and, despite being January 5, it wasn't freezing outside, and all was going smashingly. Until dinner.
The sad part was that we didn't make it through even part of the meal unscathed. No. See, we sat down and Ross (my totally fun date. Hi, Ross!) immediately splattered honey dijon onto his tie. First bite of salad. Really smooth. I laughed...kind of a lot. Which, it turns out, was unwise. Three minutes later, when I launched into my main course, I IMMEDIATELY flung gravy ALL OVER my dress. Bodice, waist, multiple spots. Perfect. I cursed loudly, and then laughed and accepted the karmic payback of it all and proceeded with my food. Until a renegade piece of chicken flew off my plate, bounced off my chest, and ROLLED down the rest of the dress and onto the floor, where Ross helpfully kicked it under the table. I'm not sure why the universe thought that projectile chicken was necessary after the gravy bit. I looked like a damn Klee painting for the entire evening. (Though, on the upside, it thoroughly entertained everyone else at my table. I aim to please.)
Alas. So the dress is now at the dry cleaners, getting the buffet removed from the front of it.
That wasn't the funniest part of the evening, however. That would be when two (quite drunk) gentlemen approached an unsuspecting guy at my table, and one said, "[Tom!] Hey, man! You don't remember me, but I pulled you out of a lake once when you were a kid." And he sloshed a full glass of red wine all over the floor (and, nearly, [Tom]'s wife) at the same time. Greatest introduction of self that I have ever witnessed.
So anyway, there it is. Good times, good food, balance restored to the universe.