My best friend was waiting for me at the airport, and we hung around her house. With visions of Thai food dancing in our heads, we realized that I had to high-tail it to Ft. Worth for a wedding rehearsal and had to skip the broccoli and tofu covered with peanut sauce. We met up with some friends, and arrived to the rehearsal late.

Everything seemed to go fine, but the minister was a bit off. The man was roughly 96 years old, and he had a bit of the shakes. I not only thanked myself for being ordained to finish off the ceremony if need be, but I also thanked myself for taking that Red Cross training through the Boy Scouts. If the old man took a tumble I could always tie his broken legs into some square knots, finish the ceremony, and punch him a new trachea tube with a BIC pen without even messing up my makeup.

Yes, people. That�s how good I am.

We finished off the rehearsal with a quick dinner and some margaritas with friends, laughing and catching up on what all we�d been up to in the months passed. A good time was had, and the guys took off to their �bachelor party� and the bride and I went back to her place to get some rest.

The next day we had a bridal luncheon at the bride�s mom�s house. A good time was had even though I barely knew anyone. If nothing else, each grandma found something to say to me and I had a glass of wine at all times. It�s amazing how a glass of wine makes social situations and a host of other things all so much better...

The night was the rehearsal dinner. The festivities were housed at a steakhouse where the question loomed: steak or chicken? I snagged a waitress and a menu where the closest thing to a vegan entr�e was... well, chicken. I got sides of vegetables and a dinner salad, but all was good. Good conversation, good friends, and lotsa jokes at the minister�s expense.

A plan was devised: If he started to mess things up, the bride was to give the best man a nod, and he would promptly exclaim, �Old man out, ChicagoJo in!� where I would step in to finish the ceremony. The bride�s brother agreed to add to the situation�s ambience by chanting my name as I approached the alter. Luckily, had such a situation arose, my position as maid of honor had me a mere three steps from the old man�s spot, thus minimizing the chanting.

I got to bed soon after midnight and awoke the next day ready to get the show on the road. I made it to the bride�s mom�s house to help set things up. I witnessed some neighborhood thievery by the step-dad and brother, both who had quite a time fashioning signs to place on the road to direct cars.

Yadda, yadda, yadda. There�s not much to report until the wedding.

The women are all dressed and ready to go. I can only assume that the men are farting on each other and telling cock jokes, as that seems to be what my group of guy friends does best. The wedding is starting in 5-4-3-2-1, when WAIT A MINUTE! The damn old man minister is a no-show.

The bride�s mom, who�s been freaking out all day long over the tiniest details, shrugs, smiles, hands me the schedule, and says something along the lines of, �Looks like it�s up to you!� I was truly shocked there were no tears, no flip-outs, not even any cursing. Everyone was calm, and we started to make our way outside when the groom�s mom announced that the belated bum managed to get his aged ass in gear and arrive to the 5 p.m. wedding at 5:02 p.m.

The wedding was lovely, and everything went off without a hitch. It was wonderful to stand next to two dear friends and witness what went on. In an odd way, it made me reconsider my vow to elope.

However, once all was said and done, the eyes were all dried, and we got down to some partying. The wine was free-flowing, the champagne kept appearing in my glass, and the DJ was receptive to requests for songs that didn�t suck ass. The bride and I were many times the only ones of the dance floor, but it didn�t matter. We laughed the entire time.

Someone called me gorgeous. Twice. Refer to #71 as to why this is trouble.

And after the party there wound down, we headed to a friend�s house to continue. We naked hot-tubbed, which turned into naked pool, which promptly turned into naked hot-tubbing again when we realized that the pool�s heater hadn�t yet been turned on for the winter. More friends showed up, I put some clothes on, and we all hung out until late in the evening.

I don�t remember falling asleep, but I do remember a drunken friend crawling into bed with me. He wasn�t trying anything naughty, but I wasn�t going to share the bed with someone his size and that night was not a snuggling night. I took my pillows, yanked the comforter off the bed, and snuggled up on the Berber. This did nothing good for my already-aching back, and I woke up with a walk that would put the grandma shuffle to shame. Just call me GeriatricJo, okay?

The next day I made it to the other side of town to visit my family who made a special trip from Houston to visit me. I called a faux-family member in the other direction to give him a hello, but the cell was crapping out and he likely got something along the lines of, �ob diz dkfj Jo, n juss antd ooh ayy hiii.� I cut the call short, and then scurried into the house to say my hellos.

Maa, Dad, Boy, and Branden were all in attendance, and I also got to visit with our good family friends Fernando and Janet. I held that sweet baby (who cried for the first time all weekend when he saw me -- go figure...), took pictures of everyone, and then high-tailed it to the airport with nary a Thai restaurant along the way.

Somewhere between dropping me off at the airport and me getting on my plane the muscle relaxer I snagged from my mom kicked in. I also realized that I misplaced my glasses, so it was quite a flight. Grrr...

I arrived in Chicago last night stoned and blind. It�s not my usual flying routine, but that�s how it went.

Happy Monday all. I�ve got work to do.�