5 posts tagged “marriage”

In honor of breaking news. California has overturned its ban on gay marriage. Damn it, kind makes me wish I was going to ticketing software summit in Long Beach and making it a trip for two. Then again maybe not. Especially since this was my last impression of marriage before reading the news.*  Happy thoughts . . .

Woke up this morning with a clear albeit aching head. That's what I for messing around with rail rum. I think the hint of a hangover is what prompted me to remember there are consequences to fooling with Caribbean men. Apparently they make lose your mind-- or a least your better judgment.*  Two examples for you:

Lauryn Hill

She got herself tangled up with Bob Marley's son Rohan. Definitely understandable, but unfortunate all the same.

Lauryn Hill-- Before Rohan

Lauryn Hill After Rohan

Terry McMillan may have gotten her groove back, but she definitely lost her ping. Because the gaydar should have been pinging away when she met Jonathan Plummer over in Jamaica. But no.

So the happy couple :

Terry and Jonathan

Became embittered and aired their dirty laundry on Oprah (and Good Morning America and Tavis Smiley):

Terry and Jonathan on Oprah

And unfortunately in print as well:

Balancing Act

Jonathan Plummer

]
Damn if the Caribbean Islands blessed us with the likes of  Edwidge Danticat,  Jamaica Kinkaid and Junot Diaz, I guess we can tolerate one stinker from their end of the earth. But dammit! Did it have to be an opportunistic and over polished gay hack?
And Terry? Judging from the smirk, she's had the gaydar tuned up. Not saying that Terrence Howard is family but he is a bit extra. Ladies, he's all yours-- just remember to pack your baby wipes.

Terrence Howard from Pride

Appealing, but unfortunately I saw him (all of him) in Get Rich or Die Tryin'.  So yay! My marriage is safe from the likes of Island men and Terrence Howard.


* I know men in  general-- regardless of the their  geographic origins--  have  the power to put you outside of yourself. Especially If don't already know yourself. Just let me hold on to the illusion that Caribbean men are a particularly potent scourge-- for the sake of my marriage.

M and I went to party hosted by one of his co-workers this evening. His best friend and a cousin tagged along as well. The party was pretty much populated by a bunch of guys from the Caribbean. They were a charming bunch and cute to boot. Added to all of that,I'm a sucker for an accent and the patois was flying. So I had to inform M's I might not make it to her mother's wedding in February.

"I don't know if I can handle going to Jamaica," I said.
   
"Why not?" she asked.
 
"If tonight is any indication," I said, "I don't know if I can celebrate a marriage, when I'm on the verge of breaking mines up. This right here is too much."

Luckily, the evening ended without incident. M, his best friend and I left around ten or so. M's cousin? She decided to hang back with one of her girlfriend that showed up and enjoy the pickings. I hate single people.

Wedding reception equation

Seems like she just left, but M's mom is back in town this weekend along with Big D, lil m, his brothers and brother's daughters. They all came down for a cousin's wedding tomorrow down on the Eastern Shore. While the rest of the family is a pretty "worldly" bunch, the cousin that is getting married is a church girl. Not as religious as her mother who felt compelled to exhaust part of her last dying breath to tell M he needed to "Get right with God," but religious enough to have her wedding reception in the church fellowship hall. Of course  when the rest of the family found out that the reception was being held at the church, they turned to me to find out what to expect besides no dancing and no drinks. But I couldn't recall ever attending a church wedding reception. Then today, I remembered that oldest brother made it down the aisle after he was "saved." So his wedding reception was held in the church basement. That just goes to show you that wedding reception with the wine flowing are the most memorable one-- or the ones that make me to hide in a hole for a few days.

At my oldest uncle's fourth (fifth?) wedding reception, there was a  Soul Train line (which are a requisite a black family gatherings usually followed by the Electric Slide and/or The Cha Cha slide) and video camera. My trip down the line made the wedding reception highlight reel. That's because the spirits and the cowboy hat I was wearing that day inspired a Urban Cowboy routine, which included me riding an invisible bronc (*sigh* where's Drew Lachey when you need him?) and apparently my thighs rubbing together caused a fire in my pants. Why in the hell else would I take to fanning my crotch with my hat there at the end?

The last wedding I went to was for my current boss's daughter. This was my first year on the job. So you'd think I may have wanted to play it cool, but drinks were flowing before the wedding. Even during the wedding. There were rounding us up for the start of the ceremony. I stayed back to down my Bombay and OJ, but one of the other guest told me, "Oh, honey, bring it with you. These aren't those type of folks. The groom's Irish."

I hit it off with his brothers and his father who had flown in from Ireland. The craic was popping (thanks Dora, for letting me know that this lunancy has a name)! His father and I traded shots of Killbeggan. That name alone should have told me not to fool with it, but no. So the rest of the night played out elliptically and folks filled in the blanks for me later. The last thing two things I remember where the bride tossed her bouquet and it ended up on top of the tent. So I managed to get it down, contemplated keeping it, but gave it to the maid of honor at the bride's suggestion. Then I remember I beat my ride down to her car and needed to sit my ass down. So I ended up in the back of the family bus. It took a minute for my driver's husband to find me and coax me off. Although I kept my head out the window just in case, I made it home without any incident. Luckily, I had enough energy in reserve to make it up to my apartment on my own and soon after I was out like a light. When I came to the morning after, I was kind of concerned about whether I had a job to go back to on Monday. I did. I found out from the bride a bit later that my only odd bit of  behavior was pinching abandoned party favors and stuffing them into my gift bag.

With all that in mind, maybe a dry wedding reception isn't such a bad thing. But now that I think about it, my oldest brother's reception didn't go by without an incident from me. My oldest brother was tossing his bride's garter and he was aiming for my other brother, who was getting married a little later in the year. He was off target. The garter ending flying towards another friend and me. Not that I wanted it, but I wanted to keep it in the family. So I wound up tackling the other guy to get it. And my brother nearly had a fit, because I was in a rented tux. Damn, maybe I should just stay away from wedding receptions period.

M and Felipe + Lady V

1 comment

We managed to have a good weekend together in spite of the oversight on my part. It started out with a shopping trip Target to take advantage of the newly increased credit limit and get few things for the house. It was a bit frustrating at first because we two different shopping styles. M goes in with a clear list as to what it is that we need. And once he gets those things, he's done. Me? I like to meander and sniff out the sales and bargains.  Lucky for him, he relented to my shopping style and we happened upon a crock pot. He's been wanting one since his cousin reclaimed the one she left over at our place, after our last party.

Saturday evening we went to the Nationals' baseball game. The day had been a scorcher (99 degrees) and M was little reluctant about letting me go alone-- or going period. But heatstroke be damned, I was getting overtime for the adventure.  So, he decided to head down with me and sweat it out. It was only after we had hopped on to the metro that I realized I'd left the camera in the car. So unfortunately we have no pictures of the fun. By the time we got there (late! So I missed out on grabbing a Thomas Jefferson bobble head.), the weather had cooled quite a bit. We had good seats as well, the second section behind home plate. The only issue was that I was on the aisle and that meant I had to get up for everybody that wanted to go grab a beer. An observant stadium staffer decided we may be better off in a section were they brought in cushioned fold up chairs and moved us there. God bless, him. You know, baseball actually a bit more fun when you're watching it in person as opposed to seeing it on television. Plus, if you get a bit bored, you can always ogle at the beer sellers with the well developed arms.

Yesterday, our actual anniversary date, was kind of quiet. I went to grocery store and went thirty dollars over fifty dollar limit I'd set myself.  I guess there is something to be said about going with a clear list and getting the hell out. But I had to splurge on a roast for the new crock pot. So I'll have that waiting for me, when I get home this evening, along with my big shrinking hunk of man waiting for me.

*You know, save for the fact we can't legally marry in Maryland. You'd think that a state with Mary in the name would have little more love for the gays, but I guess they've seen the list too.  And oh yeah, there's that issue of me still be married to my green card bride. Oh dear.