My Big Fat Baptist Wedding

I'm going to a Baptist wedding this weekend. In Georgia.

There will be no reception, there will be no dancing, there will be no bar. There will be an "ice cream social." What. The. Fuck.

Now my family likes to have a good time. It's the Bride's who are the Baptists. My family wants part in no such thing. The last time we all got together there was a memorable incident involving a dime bag and a hotel bathroom. I'm giving them an hour, max, of the whole ice cream thing before they head out in search of some liquor.

It's not that we need to drink to be happy (well, most of us), and it's not that we need to drink to get along (although it certainly does help). We just like to drink. A lot. What's a good family gathering without making memories of the time all the kids bonged out the bathroom, or Aunt Kim got so drunk she propositioned the bartender (along with every other man in the room) to sleep with her right in front of her husband. We drink, we smoke, we talk too loud and dance too much. We use the Lord's name in vain and curse like a bunch of sailors. At best, we're Lutheran's. At worst, we're heathens. The Baptists never even saw it coming.

posted by Just Call Me Fabulous @ 10:09 AM