Khaki sacrifice

Tonight I lost a pair of khakis to the wedding gods, thanks to my lust for red wine and other alcohols at family events. I guess that's one of the dangers of sporting a frat-boy chic outfit. After reaching across my dinner table to take a photo of some cousins, another cousin asked if I needed a tampon, thanks to the generous splash of red wine that had collected in my crotch. I guess I took the place of my sister as most embarrassing cousin since she couldn't be here herself.

But throughout the ceremony and reception, we all had a good time laughing at the officiant who squeaked throughout and making sure we were the loudest table present (at least when our parents' table failed to do the job).

The wedding DJ played a skillful selection of muzak, including instrumental versions of Shania Twain, Backstreet Boys and Celine Dion (We are in Canada, after all!). Despite the gorgeous day and incredible view, the shmaltzy wedding was cheese-a-rific and my poor cousin seemed whipped into submitting to all the minute (pink) details than he would have really preferred.

Add to that a maid of honor speech that verged on rude and inappropriate, our table had nothing to do but spell out (and draw out) death threats for messing with la famiglia.