I swear I did not get married. In case you hear anyone discussing otherwise, loudly, in a barroom bathroom, you can refute it.
Last week, in Vegas, I witnessed the marriage of Dibbs to his special lady, as they honored the impromtu impulse with a legal touch, at 9:30 at night, at the appropraitely named Las Vegas Wedding Chapel. The vibe of the LVWC is funereal, with a touch of the DMV, augmented by fake flowers and trelaces. They wanted to be married by an Elvis, but he was another $300, and the Elvis that does AC/DC songs was booked. They marched up the aisle to "War Pigs" -- and exited to "Made Ya Look" as we all looked on, misty-eyed. The ceremony lasted under ten minutes, and was as much a testament to modern romance as any wedding where the groom is not clad in a band t-shirt.
The reception consisted of everyone smoking cigarettes out on the sidewalk, then taking off to make bus call. The newlyweds shuttled off in the complimentary white limo.Posted by Jessica at July 10, 2004 05:00 PM | TrackBack