A nice day to . . . STAAAART AGAAAAIIIIN!:Wedding crashers, only without the "crashing" part.

Yep, I actually got invited to this one. Well, I didn't, but my best friend Arlana did, and she brought me along. I know a lot of guys hate getting dragged to weddings, but I actually kind of enjoy them -- everyone's in a good mood, there's free food, (usually) an open bar, and the ever-present possibility of nailing a bridesmaid in the broom closet. (I already know what you're going to ask, and yes, my mom reads this sometimes. No, I assure you, she couldn't care less. She's come to expect it by now.)

Anyway, this wedding was for one of Arlana's sorority sisters from Auburn. Did you know that Auburn people, for all their claims of Southern pride and whatnot, profane the legendary song "Sweet Home Alabama" by yelling "War damn Eagle" after every mention of "Alabama" in the song's chorus? I must confess I was new to this "tradition." And yes, my children, if you're getting married in the state of Alabama, there's a good chance that "Sweet Home Alabama" is getting played at the reception. Don't protest, just go with it. (I don't have a problem with it except that this wedding had a DJ as opposed to a band, which deprived me of the chance to in some way re-enact the "Total Eclipse of the Heart" scene from "Old School." Other than that it was fine.)


This picture? Almost one of the best pictures ever taken of me. My parents would've been begging me to use that as my profile photo in the upper-left-hand corner of this page -- they hate the photo that's up there now for some reason -- and I would've happily complied. But then Jesus had to go and return to earth at The Summit that same afternoon, and he shot a bolt of holy righteous sunlight right through me face. Thanks, Jesus.


Me! Holding a baby! At the reception! This baby is, I believe, the son of the bride's brother- and sister-in-law. By the end of the night I think he had been held by all 10 people at our table.


Now we go straight from baby-holding to rampant alcohol abuse, though I should probably point out two things -- 1) we held the baby before we got ripping drunk and thus endangered it in no way, shape, or form, and 2) it was an open bar, so, like, what did you expect? Still, even I'm a little shocked at the amount of glassware that ended up on our table.


The result of all this shenanigans. Table 5 was, without a doubt, the party table.


Oh, yeah, and there was a wedding, too. This is Arlana with the bride, Amanda.

So anyway, I've got at least two more weddings in the next three months, so that's two more chances to sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" at a reception. One way or another, it's going to happen.