Weddingbee

I’m a faux-tography buff. I like to think I’m wicked cool behind the lens, but deep down, I know better. Nevertheless, I persevere in my quest for perfect pics. Vacation itineraries revolve around scenic landscapes. At parties, I’m a temporary teetoaler in fear of missing photo ops. So if I had to rank what’s most important to me in planning the wedding, naturally, it’s that our photographer have the superhuman ability to be in all places at once, with preternaturally perfect lighting at his back.

Not that it will matter. Mr. Lovebug and I have an uncanny knack for taking the goofiest, most un-flattering pictures. Just take a gander at our engagement party:

We look either pissed off, depressed, drunk, or all three. Apparently, the gift extends to our closest friends:

(They’re going to murder me for posting these.) OK, OK, they’re not all bad. And maybe it was the spirit of the evening, but there were some really romantic moments, too:

Just kidding, guys. One of the highlights of the night, however, had to be when the table broke out into a spontaneous wine glass bells jam session:

Note the expression of delight on her face. The other diners? Not so delighted. So we decided to bag the whole four-star fancy dinner party thing and go bowling. Nothing says “engagement celebration” like a two dollar beers and 50 cent pizza, right? However, as most of the girls were in heels, we were faced with the no-socks-for-bowling-shoes dilemma. For some reason, Mr. Lovebug wasn’t even wearing socks. His solution? STEAL THE RESTAURANT NAPKINS TO WEAR AS SOCKS:

Brilliant idea, C. They’ll never notice. Somewhere along the way to the bowling alley, however, socks were found. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my maid of honor:

I’m not sure what that was about. Maybe I implied she couldn’t handle her eight pound ball? Oh, and if you think I was kidding about Mr. Lovebug’s plan, well…

I can’t wait to see what happens we we get everyone into formal wear.

• Insert Big-Sigh-Of-Relief...
• Cake- Check!