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I fell off the blog wagon just a slight bit, but I was hard at work with the editing of my very first novel, you know “Year of the Chick“.
Now’s the perfect time to take a break, and it’s not like I’m finished describing my sister’s Indian wedding.
Where did I leave off?
Oh yeah, whorish children with manicures. That was two nights before the big day, which leads me to the last day before…
..Earlier I’d mentioned that fitting in a sari for the wedding was a tough one. It would basically have to mean eating healthy for the seven days prior. But of course there was a catered dinner for almost every last one of those seven days. And of course I can’t resist a thing that’s fried or drizzled in curry, so what to do?
The appropriate response was surely a flushing of the colon, or a slicing of my thighs and subsequent stitching, but I was saved by something so much better:
My sister embraced the full potential of bridezilla, and totally wore me out!
That doesn’t sound very fun, and she’d already subjected me to decorating slavery, but in her last day’s insanity before the big event, she had me running all around to do her bidding. And I mean RUNNING. Things like, racing back to the craft store for even MORE pots of fake-ass flowers, last-minute groceries, decorating the temple in under thirty minutes, it was my own mini-marathon! I was perfectly happy to sweat out the samosas in this way, except my efforts at the temple were thwarted on the day of the ceremony. It’s just that, when you try SO hard to make the white fabric hang off the pillars JUST so, only for some children to run right through it, knock over the pillars, and break a flower pot?
Well at least it wasn’t MY wedding. And also, isn’t this an added reason to put little kids on retractable leashes? I mean I know there’s a negative association with children on leashes and…dogs, but we also feed our kids, we also clean their poop until a certain age, so aren’t they a bit like dogs after all? When I have children, I’ll solve the dilemma by keeping my rug rats locked up tight in those pet carrier things. Like imagine how much faster parents would finish their shopping, if the grubby rug-rat hands were trapped behind a carrier wall.
Well it seems like I’ve fallen off the track, but the point of course is that I ran around completing the last minute tasks, and my body seemed to keep its (average) figure. Yay!
Before I could put on the wedding attire, one more catered dinner awaited. This time it was the choora ceremony, where my mother’s older brother would adorn my sister with the fabulous bangles shown here (those are the actual ones).
The food was great and so was the weather, leaving many of the guests to revel in the party tent outside. But just beyond the outer edge of that tent…was trouble. It came in the form of too many Indian men, and too many bottles of Crown Royal whisky. Most of the men were able to know when to quit (since their wives simply glared them into sobriety), but as in most Indian parties, there is always that ONE guest. In our little world, that guest came in the form of the one random male who was invited by a foggy obligation.
He came to the party wearing a velour track suit, so you knew it was trouble off the bat. And when he started accosting the Portuguese server we hired (is that illegal? Well she was getting more than minimum wage), we knew it was time for him to go.
As my dad stripped away the bottle of Crown Royal, track-suit man grimaced and groaned. Then he stumbled up the steps into the kitchen, and proceeded to harass my grandmother who was busy making tea. That’s right, a fifty-year-old drunkard chasing an eighty-year-old granny around the kitchen; did I mention that the wedding hadn’t even started?
Eventually the energizer bunny fueled by whisky lost his thunder, and he soon passed out in a lawn chair outside. My dad was perfectly happy to leave him here, but eventually one of his “people” came by to pick him up. I stared at his driver quizzically. Who are these people anyway? Do we call these people our friends? Maybe Indian weddings need to be a little bit smaller, you know to filter out the riff-raff.
But whiskey riff-raff returned the following night, dressed to the nines for the reception. Correction, he was dressed in beige-coloured Indian style pajamas.
But let me stop myself there, since the wedding itself deserves its very own post or two…
Velour track suit, classy choice indeed. Sounds like someone is jealous he was hitting on your grandma and not you. 😉 Also, LMAO at your solution to kidpets. You should be president…of Canada(here too!!)
Waiting for the wedding post!!! C’mon, get with it! 😛
If a child had knocked over my white fabric drapped pillars you bet your sweet ass I would have used that white fabric to tie him up like a mummy and leave him in the pew….a small price to pay for insolence (j/k)! As for the marathone of wedding preparations…just you wait I’m hiring you! Finally, let us discuss velor jumpsuits….I despise them…it’s a gay rule….no velor jumpsuits they are ugly and flamable! 😉 I’m super excited for the wedding posts!!!!!
I CANNOT wait to hear about the wedding. There better be pictures GALORE lady. GALORE.
Should have had a bouncer or two, kick his ass to the curb.
I’m really curious what an Indian wedding is like! All these entries about preparation and endless errands needing to be done have actually made me a bit nervous for the wedding…I’m nervous, but still want more! 😀
I’m absolutely attached to your blog!!! LOL I love the way you describe everything!!! I enjoyed it! And as you describe it.. I just could picture everything in my mind. Bcoz, after photographing +18 cultural weddings (specially Indians) you get so familiar with all the adventures, challenge and laborious work that it means!
thanks Romi 😉
Like the way you got off track with that image of the kiddies in the pet carrier. Really all you need is about 10 feet of rope to tie them in to the bottom of the shopping cart … but I digress.
Nice job building the suspense for the wedding and with “foggy obligation” man. Hilarious!
Apparently I wasn’t the only one whose brain snagged on “velour tracksuit”. I’m trying to think of a setting where such attire would be appropriate, outside of the Playboy Mansion West.
I used to bartend at fancy catered events, and yes I know exactly what you mean. There is always that ONE. Totally inappropriate, totally drunk, and totally cut off by me. Then he goes from thinking we’re BFF to sullenly glaring at me from across the room because I’ve cut off his happy juice.
Can’t wait to hear about the wedding!
The riff-raff: it should deserve a post of its own! Oh, wait a minute, was this it? 😉 Now I know what to expect at my wedding (we’ll be serving tiny amounts of booze, “to filter out the riff-raff”).
I absolutely love this build up. I can only wonder what happened at the wedding. Haha. I can picture his awful outfits too. We are all waiting for the next entry. =)
That’s hilarious! I’ve done some outrageous things on alcohol before (mainly in my twenties), but never at a wedding! At least that guy was a happy drunk, like me–a lover, not a fighter. Some people get angry when drunk, and they want to fight someone–anyone. I’ve never understood that. Last week, I was drunk at a redneck bar. I approached a table where good-looking women always sit, for some reason. Sure enough, there were two lovely ladies sitting there. One of them was conversing with a young man standing there. I walked up, and said, “This table is cursed, or should I say blessed–only beautiful women sit here!” The kid said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about–get the hell out of here!” I asked why, and he said the woman was his wife. I knew damned well she wasn’t his wife, and I asked to see a ring. Of course she had none. The kid was fuming, while I was laughing the whole time–I even reached out to shake his hand, and make a friend out of a potential enemy! He threatened to hit me, and I very calmly said, “You could, but then you’d go to jail–and that wouldn’t be pleasant.” He raised his fist, but his friend held him back. Then it occurred to me–it was the woman’s decision to make! So I gently asked her, “Would you prefer to talk with him, or with me?” She said she had three children by him. I knew this was nonsense, but it was clear what she preferred. I said, “Oh, good gracious!” I looked at the young man, and said, “Well, you definitely win!,” and walked away. But this seemed to anger him even more–I think he was disappointed that he had no cause to fight me! Like, I said–I just don’t understand why some people want to fight, when drunk.
Shweta: so what if I like guys in velour tracksuits? Are you judging me!?!?!? 😉
Otto Mann: I know, do you think the world will end in 2012 and I won’t have even written the wedding post!?!? Just so busy dude…my eyeballs are constantly strained by the full time job/novel edit/query lifestyle…GAH!!!
sammy25: why are you joking? Kids should ALWAYS be punished for insolence! lol 😀
geminigirl: dude, maybe I will email you the FB picture link so you can see them…won’t be posting a lot since my sis would kill me…lol 😉
kerplar: we should have TOTALLY hired bouncers in the form of cheap labour/aka Indian immigrants..dammit! Will remember for next time 😉
omegaradium: well I’m glad you still want more and I hope I don’t disappoint…Indian weddings are a trip!! 🙂
Jenily: thank you, and thanks for visiting my blog, good luck with all the Indian weddings! 😉
David: Hi blog-dad…glad you liked the off-tangent once, I think I feel most comfortable writing-wise when I get off tangent…I think my 2010 blog will go back to those roots, just need to finish off with my cultural saturation kick (YES, there will be a 2010 blog! 🙂 )
William: Hi, thanks for visiting my blog! Velour tracksuits are horrible…I’ve seen ones that are burgundy, for some reason I feel those are the worst…lol
Jen512: wow, so you have a lot of experience with those types! Indeed, cutting off their happy juice is never well-received 😉
duffboy: there is a direct positive relationship between booze and riff-raff, so that’s a good choice 😉
Justin: I know, I am being a real snail-face with the entry production lately…but novel is “life’s work”, must come first 😉
PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Yes I know!!! 😀
Scott: hahaha…nice story, the blessed table…lol…it is ALWAYS better to be a happy drunk! 🙂