Drink Rum

Our table at the reception was at the very rear of the dining area, as far away from center as possible. With the only exceptions being the wedding of my sister and my own wedding, I'm always seated at the table farthest from everyone. It's the loud and likely to do something embarassing table. At my friend's wedding in Chicago a couple of years ago, we were Table 11. We were the annoying friends who are always fun at parties, but who you never want your grandmother to see. We took pride in our status and even had group photos taken with our "Table 11" sign/placard. We found out later that our "table photos" (from disposible cameras) were the most entertaining shots of the evening.

So we're in the back. I don't mind so much except that I've got a bum leg. The table were too close together, so navigation was difficult. I took to just wandering outside of the tented area and going through the hedges to get to the bar/dining area. It wasn't bad, but the wear and tear did add up and we ended up having to bail on the after-reception bar party. I was really looking forward to that. The bride and groom looked great, and their wedding was a hit. I'm very, very happy for them.

Probably the highlight of the day was Mark. The guy pal of one of my wife's friends. He's a rather clever fellow and gets mean/funny when he's drunk. I like mean/funny.

There were several children in various stages of development and regression at the party. At one point, one was under our table and he crawled out from beneath Mark's chair. Mark looked down at the kid and then up at my wife and said, "Hey look! I pooped a kid!"

My response back was, "What the hell did you eat?"

Then there was the obligatory poop-kid diatribe that lasted a good 30 minutes.

Also... future tip for people... make sure if someone volunteers to be your designated driver... that they understand that means they can't get drunk. I thought that was a given, but apparently not.

I need to find out what kind of stout beer that was that I had. It was a local brew and I had three tasty pints of it before dinner.

I would have had more but... well... designated driver got bombed.

By the end of the reception my leg called it quits and the rest of me followed suit.

I got home, took some magic vicodin and watched tv for a few hours.

Speaking of vicodin. Dr. House from the show bearing his name is my new hero. My mother told me to watch the show because the main character reminder her of me. She'd said the same thing about me and Michael J Fox in Spin City too, but I was skeptical. She was right this time. A dude with a bad leg, a preference for pain pills, a caustic sense of humor and the need to always be right... that's me. If he was an internet guy instead of a doctor, I'd sue Fox.

So yeah... House is cool. I need to get some more Netflix... and some more Vicodin.