Sometimes I wish I could time travel just to go back in time and punch Past!Jennie in the face.
Three Hole Punch Steve got married this weekend. The ceremony was at Wittenberg, as both the bride and groom went to Witt, and many college friends descended upon the campus. As we were waiting for the ceremony to start, I was struck by this weird thought or feeling or...I don't know, but it is WEIRD to see us all coupling off and getting married. We who used to streak the hollow. We who once snuck into the sorority house snack closet through a window above the locked door just to get ramen noodles. We who scaled a fence to go swimming at 4 AM. We who once (twice!) walked to Lake Michigan from Mary's apartment with a case of beer to watch the sunrise, chase joggers through the park, go to IHOP, then sleep a couple of hours and go out and do it all over again. How are those people ALLOWED to get married? I still feel like I'm pretending to be an adult most of the time. Does that ever go away?
Anyway, what that all means is I didn't do a very good job at pretending I'm an adult on Saturday. I mean, I acted like an adult because you have to be an adult to buy alcohol but I didn't act like a RESPONSIBLE adult. Which is fine. Being responsible all the time is highly overrated. Except, not really. Who wants to be responsible all the time? If I was responsible all the time, then I wouldn't be able to watch three episodes of Veronica Mars in one evening or eat a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast or, I don't know, have any fun ever.
It was a fun wedding, although I'm pretty sure we were seated in the troublemaker section. That's OK, it just proves that Steve A) knows us well and is B) smart. For instance. There were bottles of wine on all of the tables that I guess were meant to use for the toasts, only we drank ours right away and there was only a tiny bit left for toast time. Oops. I don't know what else to say about the reception, other than the food was yummy and there was dancing and laughing and GENERAL MERRIMENT and I now have a picture of Joe and Steve slow dancing.
I also have a picture of like, the million beers we all drank, which made getting up early on Sunday SUPER FUN. That always sucks because for one thing, you feel like arse and for ANOTHER thing, you have no one but yourself to blame. Except I sort of blame Miguel on account of any time anyone has less than a half a cup of beer, he was all, "YOU NEED A REFILL!" If that doesn't sound like a recipe for disaster, I don't know what does.