I met my friend Andie at my first job out of college. The job sucked. Our three-martini-lunches-on-Fridays did not.
We both left the Job Of Suck within two weeks of each other, and have been best friends ever since. Actually more like sisters. Sisters who are alcoholics and can rationalize ANY clothing purchase for the other in minutes.
Andie: Well, I like this skirt, but I just bought that other skirt, plus the shoes, so I probably shouldn't buy this one too.
Amy: But that skirt GOES with the new shoes. That skirt will go with EVERYTHING.
Andie: Really? Even though it's a shade of red I've never actually seen before?
Amy: Yes, and also I'm buying this Hello Kitty underwear and you need to wait in line with me. Then we shall go drink some more.
Andie: Okay then, I'll get the skirt. And maybe that belt too.
This is Andie.
(I am so sorry, baby, but you know I had to post this picture. I mean, COME ON.)
(Andie has a special ringtone on my cellphone. It's "Get Ur Freak On" because we always sing "Get Ur Drink On" on our way to happy hour. Yep. We do.)
Andie got married this weekend. Jim makes her very happy, which makes me very happy.
I was the maid of honor. (Andie said matron of honor, because there was another girl who was technically the unmarried maid of honor, but I said fuck that, we're both maids because I am not ancient.)
I got my dress for $50 on eBay. I know! I suck.
(Christ. Narcissistic much? You will notice there are zero pictures of Jason. Zero. He was there, I swear.)
It was a gorgeous wedding and gorgeous weather and Andie looked gorgeous in the dress I was with her when she bought that made me cry when she tried it on. It was the one time she didn't need my help in rationalizing the purchase.
Okay, so this one time Andie and I went to the wedding of a mutual friend from the Job Of Suck together. We drank just a wee bit too much. And by "wee bit" I mean we were completely trashed before the salads were brought out.
Anyway, the waiters stole our cake when we put them down to go pee. We wanted cake. We also wanted to get the attention of this one groomsman who Andie went on a date with and then didn't call her. Or maybe she didn't call him. Either way, it seemed monumentally important at the time. And getting his attention by pretending to be lesbians also seemed like a good idea at the time. We smushed together in this big armchair and proceeded to feed each other bites of cake that we cut from a hunk of cake that was sitting on a table next to us.
We got the groomsman's attention. He came right over to inform us that we were eating the top layer of the wedding cake. The top layer that the bride and groom wanted to save for their one-year anniversary.
So what's worse than eating the top layer of the wedding cake? Well, not much, but eating the bride's cake right off her plate while she's mingling comes in pretty damn close I would say.
(I knew she wouldn't care, but LORD, you should have SEEN the looks I got from nearby tables.)
Doesn't my hair look pretty? We all went to a salon that morning to get our hair done, but it was kind of scary. It was in TinyPodunkville, Pennsylvania and the salon's actual location had been flooded. So we were in a makeshift salon in some house. There was a bathroom, but no sink, so you had to wash your hands in the one shampoo tub.
They also had no hot rollers. NO. HOT. ROLLERS. So you know how they curled my hair? They sprayed it with hairspray and then curled it with a curling iron and then sprayed it again.
THEY SPRAYED IT WITH HAIRSPRAY. AND THEN WRAPPED IT AROUND A HOT CURLING IRON.
People, do you KNOW how bad that is for your hair? Your hair SMOKES when you do that. Please, for the love of God, don't ever do that to your poor hair.
Luckily, there was no teasing of my hair, because I proclaimed that there would be no teasing. Amy's hair + teasing = rat's nest + scissors - Amy's hair = Amy crying.
But it was all worth it, I think, because my hair was curly and lovely and did. Not. Move. All. Day.
It even stayed put during the White Girl Dancing.
It even looks pretty good in this picture, which I only have a vague memory of taking. (Although I definitely remember the Burger King. Oh my God, that was so good.)
Anyway. Congratulations to Andie and Jim. Love you both. Here's to years and years of happiness and lots of dinner parties disintegrating into drunken chaos.