A Tale of Two Weddings....
The weekend before last will go down in infamy. On the way to our Saturday wedding, the external thermometer read 112 degrees at The Bucket in Carmel Valley Village. Normally, temperatures at The Store in Cachagua are a full 10-15 degrees hotter.
How hot was it? During the reception, the sun's rays hit the wineglasses laid out on the bar and were focussed by the glass, like a future serial killer frying ants with a magnifying glass. In this day and age of 60/40 Visa tablecloths, the stuff just melted.......real linen would have probably caught fire and really heated things up.
Anyway, the reception went fine, and all was well. Well, almost everything went fine. The house up on top of Tierra Grande was a loaner from Doris Day's son's ex-wife to the mother of the bride. Got that? Doris is a famous animal lover (her hotel in Carmel has a weekly Doggie Tea party) and the son was a famous character in the sixties: a sometime Beach Boy and even a target for Charles Manson of all people. A nice guy, now passed on to the next world. The wife is a super-paranoid fruitcake who, despite being a recluse, rents out her house for parties. Go figure.
The ex-wife is also embroiled in litigation with the estate and all the other ex-wives and is short of cash to the point that the house is unfurnished and has no working oven. Plus, the house came with biting dogs that even Doris would have put to sleep. At the second chomp, Brendan picked up one of the little assholes, bit it back and tossed it down the cliff.
Post reception, the bride's dad was walking the family dog at their nearby house when a rental car roared into his driveway, almost flattening him. The dad is a real ex-CIA guy, not your pretend Porter Goss type guy. The driver of the car was full of attitude and demanded to know where he was: "Is this 22875 Tierra Grande, or not?" Pops ejected the guy just before the family dog did some munching of his own.
The frantic, pissed off driver then roared up the hill to the wedding reception house, where he encountered our Alex (a winery worker at Heller and brother of the bride), the groom (a winery worker at Quady Vineyards) and the groom's brother, all deep in the Quady Orange Muscat. Freako Woman was still roaming around somewhere with the biting dogs, so the boys immediately went over to the rental car to get rid of the intruder.
The guy was still full of attitude about being lost: "Is this the fucking Bachelorette Party or not?" "Dude, you gotta get out of here....this was a wedding, not a Bachelorette Party." "No.....It is the Bachelorette Party and you guys are fucking with me. I am the stripper and I am late!" Turns out the guy was imported from West Hollywood for wherever the event was supposed to be....
At this point the groom reached in the rental car, removed the keys, and invited the stripper to step out. The stripper charged the groom, who threw the keys down the cliff, tossed the stripper after them and jumped off as well. Brendan's biting dog was probably still down there, as there was a huge commotion in the brush.
Long story short: the battle of groom vs. stripper went on for a while, with several iterations around the rental car. The stripper finally left: battered, bloodied, fancy Hollywood tear-away clothes all wrecked and torn.
I don't know what to say about the prospects for THAT marriage: groom battles lost stripper on wedding night.....
Anyhow.....fast forward one week to the next wedding. These were a crew of professional party girls. No....not hookers: waitresses, bartenders, caterers, etc. Even the girls that were now accupuncturists and such had worked for me in high school. Safe to say, no bottle of champagne was safe for more than a minute......plus the grapefruit mojitos, and the tequila soaked strawberries, etc.
Around about midnight there was a fight: the brother of a bridesmaid got into it with the ex-boyfriend because..........who knows. Probably champagne and mojito related. The two got all tore up.
Alex the bartender (brother of the bride from the previous week) was chatting with one of the bridesmaids. "What is it with these boys fighting at weddings? Gosh, just last week we tried to have a bachelorette party, and this really expensive stripper we hired in Hollywood arrived two hours late, all scratched and bruised and fucked up. He didn't want to strip.....he just wanted to use the phone to call the sheriff......so we threw him out and watched pay-per-view."
Postscript: The stripper is suing Doris Day's son's ex-wife for getting tossed down the cliff at the party house.
Really.
How hot was it? During the reception, the sun's rays hit the wineglasses laid out on the bar and were focussed by the glass, like a future serial killer frying ants with a magnifying glass. In this day and age of 60/40 Visa tablecloths, the stuff just melted.......real linen would have probably caught fire and really heated things up.
Anyway, the reception went fine, and all was well. Well, almost everything went fine. The house up on top of Tierra Grande was a loaner from Doris Day's son's ex-wife to the mother of the bride. Got that? Doris is a famous animal lover (her hotel in Carmel has a weekly Doggie Tea party) and the son was a famous character in the sixties: a sometime Beach Boy and even a target for Charles Manson of all people. A nice guy, now passed on to the next world. The wife is a super-paranoid fruitcake who, despite being a recluse, rents out her house for parties. Go figure.
The ex-wife is also embroiled in litigation with the estate and all the other ex-wives and is short of cash to the point that the house is unfurnished and has no working oven. Plus, the house came with biting dogs that even Doris would have put to sleep. At the second chomp, Brendan picked up one of the little assholes, bit it back and tossed it down the cliff.
Post reception, the bride's dad was walking the family dog at their nearby house when a rental car roared into his driveway, almost flattening him. The dad is a real ex-CIA guy, not your pretend Porter Goss type guy. The driver of the car was full of attitude and demanded to know where he was: "Is this 22875 Tierra Grande, or not?" Pops ejected the guy just before the family dog did some munching of his own.
The frantic, pissed off driver then roared up the hill to the wedding reception house, where he encountered our Alex (a winery worker at Heller and brother of the bride), the groom (a winery worker at Quady Vineyards) and the groom's brother, all deep in the Quady Orange Muscat. Freako Woman was still roaming around somewhere with the biting dogs, so the boys immediately went over to the rental car to get rid of the intruder.
The guy was still full of attitude about being lost: "Is this the fucking Bachelorette Party or not?" "Dude, you gotta get out of here....this was a wedding, not a Bachelorette Party." "No.....It is the Bachelorette Party and you guys are fucking with me. I am the stripper and I am late!" Turns out the guy was imported from West Hollywood for wherever the event was supposed to be....
At this point the groom reached in the rental car, removed the keys, and invited the stripper to step out. The stripper charged the groom, who threw the keys down the cliff, tossed the stripper after them and jumped off as well. Brendan's biting dog was probably still down there, as there was a huge commotion in the brush.
Long story short: the battle of groom vs. stripper went on for a while, with several iterations around the rental car. The stripper finally left: battered, bloodied, fancy Hollywood tear-away clothes all wrecked and torn.
I don't know what to say about the prospects for THAT marriage: groom battles lost stripper on wedding night.....
Anyhow.....fast forward one week to the next wedding. These were a crew of professional party girls. No....not hookers: waitresses, bartenders, caterers, etc. Even the girls that were now accupuncturists and such had worked for me in high school. Safe to say, no bottle of champagne was safe for more than a minute......plus the grapefruit mojitos, and the tequila soaked strawberries, etc.
Around about midnight there was a fight: the brother of a bridesmaid got into it with the ex-boyfriend because..........who knows. Probably champagne and mojito related. The two got all tore up.
Alex the bartender (brother of the bride from the previous week) was chatting with one of the bridesmaids. "What is it with these boys fighting at weddings? Gosh, just last week we tried to have a bachelorette party, and this really expensive stripper we hired in Hollywood arrived two hours late, all scratched and bruised and fucked up. He didn't want to strip.....he just wanted to use the phone to call the sheriff......so we threw him out and watched pay-per-view."
Postscript: The stripper is suing Doris Day's son's ex-wife for getting tossed down the cliff at the party house.
Really.
posted by Txacoli at 11:37 AM
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