Catch of the Day

I thought I would be safe there, up the back and to the left, robbed of all coordination due to wine and too-high heels. Then I looked up, blinked slowly, and realised it was coming right at me, a blur of blue red orange gerbras and irises.

Holy fuck I am gonna catch the bouquet. I don't want to catch the bloody bouquet. Not for another five to ten years, and maybe not even then.

But I held out my arms limply and accepted my fate. Until she came out of nowhere, her squeal piercing through my champagne fuzziness. She lunged across the dance floor, sending half a dozen girls crashing to the floor in a tangle of bare arms and strappy shoes. She plucked the flowers from the air just as they grazed my fingertips, bellowing in triumph. She waved them around her head then galloped happily over to her boyfriend who gave a tortured smile.

Strange day. It was my first wedding that wasn't one of my parents getting remarried. The bride was nervous and grinning and the groom had wet eyes and cracking voice during the vows. They looked so happy to be there. Imagine that, someone tolerating your crap enough to want to be with you for the rest of their life. I can't imagine anyone feeling like that about me. It's too bizarre.

But if I did ever get married, I would exclude the following: prayers, flowergirls who won't sit still, prawn cocktail where the prawns look like severed fingers, vol-au-vents, steak diane, fruit cake, John Farnham songs, the local Golf Club.

About Shauna Reid

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33 thoughts on “Catch of the Day

  1. Sounds like a close call.

    And you’re saying mysteriously little about whether or not you had a good day, etc, etc, etc. Or are you being enigmatic ’cause it was a real bag o’ cement of a wedding?

  2. I love this entry…it has a nice refreshing spareness to it. Just enough detail. And I’ll bite: whatsa “vol a vent”?

  3. simon – because i don’t feel the need to tell everyone everything.

    SJ – i spelled it wrong initially but they’re little flaky pastry cases with various filling inside. very 80s dinner party, darling.

    Vegas. Hmmm.

  4. Vegas…close, but not quite enough.

    Go for an Elvis impersonator.

    Better yet, go for the oh-so-famous Spanish (or is he Mexican?) impersonator: El Vez.

    Then go skydiving afterwards. That way you can scream uncontrollably and everyone will think it’s perfectly normal.

  5. Whenever the bouquet comes my way, I make a habit of casually stepping aside to let it fly right past me – much like Moses parting the Red Sea. Great post!

  6. there was absolute carnage at my sister’s wedding when she threw the bouquet. hitherto nice girls lunging and clawing and snatching. i watched in shock.

  7. Ahh, weddings. I think the last time i was at a wedding, by the time it got to the bouquet/garter bit i was pretty much knackered.

  8. It always astounds me how much Australia is just like England. You need see a US blogger mentioning prawn cocktails. They used to be my favourite (though I can see the severed finger deal) before I turned veggie.

    Poor bride/groom. They’ll probably get sick of each other. I know I would. Marriage. Shiver.. how revolting.

  9. Those John Farnham songs… they’re insidious. You’ve gotta watch carefully, or they’ll sneak in the back.

  10. Haha Marybeth, I touched your fiancee’s arse. She’s my girlfriend!

    Um, where were we? Weddings or something?

  11. 🙂 got an error.
    imagine that ? I always thought it was a given that there would be someone you’d want to be with and with you. Now… I don’t know except that smiles are good and rain is even better.

  12. I say run away to Vegas, get hitched, then relish in the fact that you never wasted $100 p.h. feeding limpet relatives who you would have had to invite, BUT who didn’t end up acknowledging your wedding once you did it in Vegas anyhow! Sulky muthas. See, the enterprising approach…

  13. Dudes, i usually lurk here in Shauny’s goodness, but as a bisexy promiscuous freak for most of my life and married to a BOY now for almost a year, i can tell you marriage doesn’t suck. And it doesn’t have to be born in bad catering.

    The Fracture (my man) and I did it (tossed the rings) in the engine room of an old lightship in Manhattan, where they have bunch of raves and shoot vids – it was cheap, grungy, and most people there were tripping their nuts/tits off. A friend of mine in a silver wig presided – she bought a Justice of the Peace liscence in the back of Rolling Stone magazine when she was like 10 and it was good enough for us. We passed out little drums and bells to everbody who came and so we had a big ole drum jam and then an incredibly tense moment of silence and then we sprinkled sparkles on everybody and the next thing you know, we’re like fused. It was good tho. I bought like 200 bucks worth of cheese the day before and asked a friend to chop it up and put it somewhere it wouldn’t get rust on it. Many people were seasick.

    It’s in the other section on of equatorial.

  14. Wow, strange to read all the people pushing you to go to Vegas and get the Elvis impersonator.

    Doubly strange, seeing has how the current entry in your blog is you doing just that.


  15. Mmmm, just what I was thinking, Dreamforest. And I’m reassured that Shauny doesn’t link to past entries just for my benefit…

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