Life's a piece of (wedding) cake

This Spring/Summer 2010 for me hasn't been about what's on the catwalk. It's been about weddings. My social calender this year has been surrounded by the three I've attended, and whilst it's nice to see people in love tie the knot; I say this with disgust and sarcasm as a singleton ,for me it's just a glorified opportunity to people watch and judge them on their hat/heels/unfortunate dress that they have picked out in an attempt to look vaguely attractive. Mind you, the copious amounts of wine never does any harm either.

The third wedding I went to presented me with a divine opportunity, I finally found somebody on my wavelength. Sat on the 'table of youth' which  sounds like the start of a bad joke as it consisted of an actor, three doctors, a policemen ,  a social worker and me; a poor pennliess student. I had found somebody who I could be myself around. Sophie was a doctor of 25, who was not like 'the others' ( neither was her other half) they were the types of medics who wouldn't have been incongrouous in an episode of scrubs.
She looks like Jessica Szohr, is 5'11 , reads heat magazine religiously, knows all the words to Gaga's Telephone and loves to judge people. So after playing minesweeper with the rest of the wine from other tables, ending up with 6 bottles of Rose, we sat down to let the giggles commence.

'Ankle Boots' was a woman who had clearly read fashion magazines, and seen celebrities wearing dresses with shoe-boots. She got it wrong. Very wrong. Her dress was an orange and brown affair which looked like a four year old child had splattered paint on it. As if this wasn't unfortunate enough she then decided to wear boots with it. Not shoe boots, not leather boots, not calf boots....but black square toed, square heeled zip at the side boots. However , the way i have just described them will never do them justice which they clearly deserved.  To add insult to injury, she then proceeded to grind against her boyfriend in a manner which made both Soph and I vom in our mouths, grabbing his crotch, shimmying up and down in what she must of thought was a seductive manner and generally acting like a fourteen year old homonal tween.


We then caught eye of a man with his girlfriend who we decided must be sexually confused. The way he was dancing, would have made Bruno Toneolli squeal, all thrusting hips, saturday night fever pointing, and Mick Jagger-esque strutting. May i add, this man was not drunk. He also danced on tables.


It's a shame that so far, no weddings for 2011 have been instigated. However, I live in hope that the next one shall be as eventful, wine, giggle and gossip filled as these, this way I can resume practice of making myself feel better by watching those more unfortunate.

Bitch?
Me?
.....
Not at all,
sort of,
when nesseccary,
Probably,
Always

yes.