Karen and I had a tiny wedding. There was myself, my bride, my bandmates, my brother who put together a feast for us, and his assistant.
Oh yeah, there were also seven of my ex-girlfriends there.
I know, I know, but Karen was the one who told me to invite them. I guess she figured it was harmless gesture. Surely they would not be interested in coming to their ex-boyfriends’ wedding. Seven out of the eight showed up.
They had their own table and were in just the right mindset, so as I expected, my bandmates hooked up and disappeared shortly after the “reception” which was really just a cocaine bash.
But weddings are back in our life right now, as my nephew’s bride-to-be is going through all the motions of a modern-day wedding.
Announcement date party.
Announcement date postcards.
Invitation selection process.
Caterer and all that entails.
Don’t get me started about flowers.
And it seems there is always some sort of pre-event lunch or brunch meetings for every single one of them. I can usually beg off of many events because someone has to watch Bruiser and Murphy and it is taking forever for our new storm door and doggy doors to arrive.
Although, without a doubt, I light up any wedding or banquet hall when I show up in a tuxedo. And women of all ages have trouble trying to contain themselves around me.
I have been threatening Karen that I have been practicing my Moonwalk in anticipation of the wedding party.
I’m so light on my feet they call me Helium Hips.
One of the tragic victims of the Covid-19 virus and my ensuing surgeries which resulted in the removal of my left leg (below the knee), was my expert dance moves.
Okay, good not expert.
I got on Youtube every day for four or five months watching videos of Michael Jackson and I could actually make my backward glide very smoothly right up until I started getting medical complications. After twelve invasive surgeries, I have tried using my prosthetic leg and it just isn’t happening, and believe me, my Moonwalking days are over.
But I know I can still waltz, I’m sure, and I am figuring out a way to work in a dance from a crowd member as my main man ADOGG picks up the rhythm and I can sing and dance. The song we will be doing is the Anne Murray song I am still practicing Can I Have This Dance (For the Rest of My Life?).
The vocal break at chorus’ end is right in my wheelhouse and I think I can crush it.
I will try to tape my first stab at the song if my left pinky holds up. I cut off a full inch off of it when I was a grill cook. They did a skin graph because they were unable to find the severed piece so they were unable to reattach. So every so often it gets raw and painful.