wedding paparazzi

My god-sister got married yesterday.

I didn’t necessarily feel any urgent familial need to go – but I am fond of my god parents and my mom’s guilt-pitch about needing an escort was buyable.

The bulk of my memories regarding my god sisters are of them as two charming little girls. They’re both grown now and are marrying off. One down.. One to go.

Aside from showing the necessary support – I figured it’d probably be a good idea to at least show my face since this god-sis is an account rep for one of the largest ad agencies in town and, (despite her actually being a really sweet girl,… no.. strike that… “woman”)- it would probably behoove me professionally not to be such a damn stranger.

The catholic pageantry struck me as bizarre as the satanic wedding we went to last year – however since I was raised catholic-liteâ„¢ – it wasn’t “so” alien.

The priest did a reading about the origin of woman, (the whole anesthetizing Adam, removing one of his ribs and creating eve thing). It struck me as creepy and perpetuating the whole “inferriority of women” concept… However, I don’t have a bra to burn here – so we’ll just let that one lay.

For a catholic ceremony it seemed to go really fast – but then again – I was distracted taking “alternative wedding photos”… The three year old having a tantrum in the 5th row. The guy picking his nose in row ten. The oddly industrial air exchange vents. The wedding photographer. I’ll assemble these images and make a little flip book and send it as a gift.

My god-father exhibited all the warmth of an orthopedic ice-pack – but my god mother gave me a hug and thanked me for coming.

It was a painless few hours spent – not to mention it gave me something to not blog about.