The Wedding Gig

Today I iddled my fiddle at a wedding. Previous posts have indicated how I feel about weddings, but that's not going to stop me from getting a wedge of wedding cash should the opportunity arise. Wedding musicians really have it sweet when you compare the hell we get to the super-duper hell that wedding photographers, florists and caterers get. A wedding musician just needs to remember when to start playing and when to stop playing. I witnessed the photographer at this wedding trying to get three tiny flower girls and one tiny ring bearer to hold still and not pick anything for three seconds so he could get a picture. This took twenty minutes and ten adults standing behind the photographer giving stentorian directives. I watched the florist assemble forty table arrangements, seven bouquets and ten of those pin-on flower deals while equipping ALL of the bridesmaids and the bride with emergency tampons (gonna be a great honeymoon) and whipping out safety pins, needles and thread and duct tape whenever anyone needed anything. This gal knew her stuff. Across the parking lot, the caterer was doing a final assembly on the wedding cake while giving orders to ten stoned cater-waiters (apparently, the groom got nervous and found himself out back with the waiters, who decided to help him calm down). The thing that always slays me about weddings is that there are ALWAYS three characters present--the criminally ancient family matriarch hooked up to an oxygen tank, the cousin who comes dressed like a Saigon whore and The Anorexic Chick. This time Ancient Matriarch was not only hooked up to an oxygen tank, but stone deaf and not shy about asking people to repeat themselves by saying "WHAT?" every ten seconds. The Saigon Whore arrived in a micro-mini denim skirt and tube top (and she was not what I'd call svelte) and wearing seven-inch-high cork platforms that laced up her legs to her dimply knees, AND she persisted in talking on her cell phone throughout the ceremony, presumably explaining to her pimp why she'd be late for her turn on Hollywood Boulevard. Anorexic Chick showed up in a strapless backless frontless number that pretty much screamed to the world "I weigh seventy pounds and I'm proud of it". The wedding party got to see Saigon Whore fall flat on her considerable ass, taking an usher down with her. Anorexic Chick gave in to the overwhelming air conditioning and went around trying to beg some clothing off the other guests, then positioned herself in a ray of sun and went to sleep. Ancient Matriarch did everybody a favor by not actually dying, so nobody really cared that she kept speculating loudly about the groom's heritage, financial position, political affiliations and potency. I did my thing when I was supposed to, the couple got married and someone quietly cleaned up the flower-girl pee during the ceremony so nobody slipped on the way out (probably that hyper-organized florist). I made a hundred bones--not too shabby for standing still and fiddling for about a minute.

My Overkill

I'm stuck again. This happens to me every so often, being the DVD Box Set Diva that I am. I'll get into watching and rewatching the same box set over and over and OVER and I can't seem to force myself to just pick something else, for crying out loud! I just got the Scrubs Season Three set the other day, and I'm totally in Scrubs mode here. I think the longest rewatchathon I ever had was C.S.I. all through my last pregnancy, but I also religiously TIVO-ed HBO's Autopsy series, Six Feet Under and Forensic Files during that period. Every show I watched had a body on the slab, I'm not kidding. Sometimes one can justify a Box Set Immersion by claiming to be studying the sociological aspects of the program in question. That's how I managed to watch six seasons of Seinfeld for three months solid without my husband placing a call to the Whack Shack Quack. Unfortunately, as popular a program as Scrubs is, one really would have to bend the bullshit into a truly interesting shape to justify watching three seasons of it for weeks on end. I can't even use the whole "Zach Braff Super Genius" excuse anymore (sorry Zach). Somebody unaware of my affliction recently informed me that Mystery Science Theater 3000 has been released on DVD. I think I might have drooled a little.

No More Weddings!

Okay, I'm seriously hacked off just at present and what's the point of having a blog if you don't occasionally use it to vent your frustrations to the general public. Despite having said upon numerous occasions "I will not get involved in a wedding" I'm involved in yet another wedding and hating every second of it. The last time I got involved it was only because The Bride wanted my then three-year-old son to dress up in a Navy uniform and schlep up the aisle with six thousand dollars' worth of diamonds in his sticky hands, which aside from being a compliment to a Proud Mom, sounded as though it had enormous hilarity potential. And it was hilarious, once all the freaking PREPARATION was over and done with. Yep, my tiny Navy guy hornpiped his way up the aisle, diamonds in hand and managed to only pick his nose several dozen times and not do anything truly obnoxious which I am sure had more to do with the burly groomsman standing behind him than with my son's natural perfect nature (narf!). Now I'm involved in yet another nuptual fiasco which is proving to test my blood pressure. And I am barely involved, serving a purpose as violinist while The Bride does her little turn on the catwalk. I have yet to receive directions to the place where this travesty is taking place, a time to arrive or any kind of instructions whatsoever except a CD of the music The Bride wants me to play. She has chosen Pachelbel's Canon, a piece of music SPECIFICALLY written for a group to play, so I'm stuck jammin' along with a recording which is really the bottom of the old barrel, as far as wedding gigs go. I happen to know of at least one bridesmaid who is ready to chuck her friendship with The Bride because of all the Dress Shenanigans. So I really think it's time to stop all the wedding madness. No more vastly overpriced usually no more than semi-flattering unless made by Vera Wang wedding gowns, no more ^%$#^%$%^^% wedding planners (you guys have your own circle of hell to look forward to), no more letting your BFFs go broke on ugly dresses and ugly shoes, no more rubber chicken dinners and Journey cover bands. It's time to just say no, ladies. Because people in general are unreliable, it's a fact, and when you force a whole lot of unreliable people into a situation fraught with unforseeable disasters, it is certainly not going to be Miller Time anytime. It's a lost cause and because it's also an expensive, totally unnecessary lost cause, don't y'all think we ought to just quit doing it? Keep the cake and the honeymoon, those are the best parts anyway!

George Bush Slips One In!

So we were watching old Georgie Boy tell us about his run for the border last night (killing time until Prison Break) and we noticed that he mentioned something about all new immigrants having to carry special cards "so that we can keep track of things". That's how it starts, right? Next thing you know, those lowjack dealies they put around newborn babies' ankles will be permanently installed, using the fear that all new parents have to get them to agree. Just keep your ears open guys. Big Brother isn't that far behind us.

Welcome To The Dent In My Couch

Hello all you movie freaks and television junkies! Visit my blog for all kinds of ranting and raving about various triumphs and tragedies in films and on television. Recently I saw Hostel, another film by Eli Roth (Cabin Fever). I'm telling you guys, this is THE film for horror-film fanatics. Anyone who has not seen every piece-of-crap cheesetastic horror flick out there will not appreciate what this film has to offer. Go out and rent it, pop yourself a big old bucket of corn, turn out all the lights and ignore anybody who tells you it's nothing but senseless torture. Then groove to the amazingly ugly first half, listen to every single word spoken and observe every single image shown. Then, get ready for the roller-coaster-ride second half, which will have you on the edge of your seat! This is a flick for folks who loved Saw and thought Saw II was for toddlers. Sure, you'll cringe a bit here and there, but what good horror movie doesn't have a few "EWWWW" moments. Let me know what y'all think!