So I was thinking today and I believe we forgot to invite some people to the wedding. They weren't people who I think would really come, but still - how may times do you get married? Why not take a shot? What is the worst that can happen?
M says that some of the wedding books say that if you invite the President or the Pope you often get a letter in response. I think there are some famous people I should have invited but didn't.
Foremost I think I would have liked to have invited Melissa Etheridge. Also I think perhaps Robert Parker and Orson Scott Card. Off the top of my head these are the people I think of. I'm fairly certain that M would like to invite Michael Stipe. My dad would probably like to have included George Carlin.
Maybe it should be a wedding tradition to do some impossible stretch invitations. You might just luck out, especially if you are getting married in the right city at the right time. Maybe one of these people might show up just as a PR move. Sort of win/win if you ask me. It ought to be possible to track down an address that would at least get to someone's people.
The worst case is that nothing happens, right? Maybe you get what amounts to an autograph on a declining RSVP card.
Maybe they even show up.
Also I think it might be fun to send invites to some of the people I only know virtually from the blog world. I wonder what Indri is doing that weekend? Could be interesting.
I wonder if I still have time to track down an address for Melissa?
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Invites
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1 comment:
Oh Dave, that's so sweet of you. But I--hold on, I have to stop laughing long enough to type--I can guarantee that you wouldn't want me there. I'm a terrible wedding guest.
Seriously. I know, because I tried it a year or so back, when my friends Tom and Coley got married. I was a complete disgrace. I was slamming champagne the minute the ceremony was over and bagging on the caterers with a guy I'd just met who had done some time in the catering trenches himself. We were like a malignant guest clot.
Then during dinner, I totally bored the people at my table (stuck behind the band, in the coldest part of the barn: I understand where I was in the food chain). You know, the pained silence kind of bored. I almost got up and started bussing the tables, because I'm so well-trained. And then I rolled my eyes and whimpered all through the (dreadful) speeches because I'd never had to sit through the speeches before; usually I can sneak off the floor and go flirt with the cooks. Not being able to leave was physically painful.
I didn't even stay for the dancing. I was too cold and too drunk and too cranky. I staggered out to my rental car and took a nap before I drove the two hours home.
Now, I'm sure that your wedding is going to be much, much nicer than all that. And that you wouldn't put me behind the band. But are you willing to risk my getting frustrated with the service and taking it over?
Still, it's a dear, dear thought. My best wishes will be with you that weekend--which is really the part you'd want, since Our Royal Presence can be troublesome.
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