Anyway you look at it I’m going to be hungover tomorrow.

So on tonight the DH and I, his sister and the outlaws will be at a wedding.  It’s the first one this year for us.  As you can guess, it’s DH’s “family”.  The bride is some sort of quasi relation and while I’m sure she’s a lovely person, I really don’t care to dig much deeper.  I met her for a grand total of 8 minutes at my bridal shower and wedding and expect to spend about the same amount of time conversing with her at hers.  No offense but that’s how these things go.  Brides are busy and weddings aren’t really the time or the place to have deep and meaningful conversations.  Not if you’re the bride that is.

And this is how the fun begins.  We are all going in one car.  Yes five adults in one small Japanese car.  As the wife of the driver (aka DH) I get to sit in the front.  Which is a small mercy as his parents have yet to hear about this newfangled thing called dry cleaning.  It can get a little ripe in the backseat.  Anyway I digress.

The wedding is at some golf course and I’m sure it will be lovely and tasteful and elegant.  I was speaking to the SIL tonight and it’s going to be small (for a Greek wedding…only 150 or so people…my shower was bigger than that no word of a lie) and not at all traditional.  I am hoping they elect to go with a DJ or a tasteful trio or ensemble as those weirdo Greek bands creep me out.  And if I never do another circle dance I can easily die a happy woman.

If we get to sit with the “young people” which may or may not include the SIL it’s all good and tomorrow’s hangover will be minimal.  If we get stuck with the outlaws….Oh sweet Mother of Jesus there will not be enough wine in the joint to make it a pleasant evening.  

Case in point, the MIL firmly believes that weddings only occur so that the couple can have babies (ummmm babies come to people who aren’t married and there are lots of married couples who elect not to or cannot have babies) so I’m sure I’ll be bombarded the WHOLE FREAKING EVENING with baby-related digs and comments.  After all, it’s coming up on three years….where are the babies?????  MIL knows where the babies are…or rather why the babies aren’t but that’s something she’ll conveniently forget tomorrow night.  And why the babies aren’t, is a post for another time.

And if it isn’t MIL making baby comments it will be any number of other irritating Greek women who I have met for approximately 18 seconds at my wedding who now feel that a) they know me intimately b) feel they can ask/tell me any manner of inappropriate things and c) think I am entitled to their thoughts and opinions especially concerning babies.  They’d be wrong on all three counts.

So yeah, long drive, outlaws, inappropriate comments and questions….all while dolled up in a dress, ridiculous party hair and fancy high heels.  Not to mention that I’m PMSy, my face has broken out 17 ways to Sunday and I just want to curl up in bed with the cat, a trashy book and a giant bowl of popcorn instead of going to a virtual stranger’s wedding.  

I can tell you’re just aching to swap places with me.  I can feel it.

Oh but wait, it gets better.  It’s no secret that the FIL likes his wine…and vodka and beer and pretty much anything else with alcohol in it.  He also has major health problems.  Major MAJOR ones that mean if he wants to live he can’t drink.  FIL either thinks he’s invincible or he wants to die given that he still partakes of the grape.  

So FIL earlier this week had a little too much to drink.  He and MIL got into it at dinner (we were there) and, well, it was awkward.  A bit funny but mostly awkward.  There was yelling, name calling and then pouting by both parties.  Closely followed by mumbling in Greek about how the other person was an idiot and the mumbler was a martyr.  At least I’m pretty sure based on facial expressions and tone that that’s what was being said.  

I wanted to disappear under the table, downstairs, out the door…anywhere to be honest but that wasn’t an option.  DH sat there and ignored it all but I was mortified.  In my world, you have your fights in private.  Of course airing dirty mildly-disguised family laundry on the internets is ok though ha ha.

Even though this is going to be a very non-traditional Greek wedding there will still be an open bar.  Of course.  Personally I can’t make it through these events without it and thank God for those fine bartenders who pour me doubles without being asked (to be fair my family’s events often require open bars too).  I drink to shut out the yapping and to take the edge off.  Sometimes that’s one ceasar and sometimes it’s several.  Never can tell until I get there.

So, open bar, MIL otherwise occupied with a) berrating SIL for not being married-honestly-what-is-she-waiting-for-she’s-not-getting-younger and b) berrating me for not being pregnant-honestly-what-am-I-waiting-for-I’m-not-getting-younger FIL will make a break for it and have several beverages while the coast is clear.  He will also have wine with dinner and a cocktail or two afterwards.  At some point MIL will notice and possibly the fight will begin anew.  They won’t yell in the reception hall, although snipes will be made at each other and their children (for some strange reason I am off limits – a fact I am very thankful for) but you can bet the house on it the yelling will start in the car.  Great….long drive back, sore feet (and possibly swollen ankles if it’s hot and there’s a lot of salt in the food), an uncomfortable dress (at that point), super tired, still PMSy, cranky from deflecting inappropriate comments/questions/opinions and now stuck with feuding outlaws.

Sweet Jesus thank you for letting there be a fibre festival and all-you-can-eat sushi in my immediate future.  That and the open bar are the only things that will keep me from stabbing the lot of them with my dessert fork.

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