Angel of Death

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2006-05-03 - 11:37 a.m.

Weekend

So, the weekend.

The wedding and reception were sweet, romantic, fun, and introduced me to a side of Amy I'd never seen before; she can dance to "My Humps" like you wouldn't believe. I loved the vinyard where they had the wedding, and I liked what I saw of Albemarle - it didn't dawn on me until we saw the signs that Albemarle, NC is the town where Kellie Pickler of American Idol fame is from.

Alas, all the "pick Pickler" signs in the windows of various establishments could not counteract the fact that the poor girl was clearly outclassed, and finally had to go back home. Hopefully, she'll get a hero's welcome, though she might not know what that means.

Despite what the world may think about Albemarle as a result of watching that dingbat say "what's a 'ballsy?'", everyone we met down there was a sane, intelligent, normal human being, so we have no idea where she gets it from. Television Without Pity is theorizing that some executive of the show told her "go with the country hick thing", and she took it a little too much to heart; I have to say, if it's not an act, it's a miracle she's lived this long without walking under a bus.

But Albemarle is nice - it's a very Southern town (at least, from my perspective), and has, unfortunately, succumbed to the same commercial blight that everywhere else has, but when you're hungry and there's a steakhouse next to the hotel that serves peanuts in a bucket, you don't argue too much for quaintness. Practicality does tend to win out over the desire to remain untouched, and in my experience, that kind of nostalgia is the province of the rich type of people who are determined to keep their small town pristine and Wal*Mart free because they can afford the gas to drive to Charlotte for all their needs, and the locals who can't don't really intrude upon their consciousness.

Anyway.

The wedding was lovely - if I'd realized it was going to be facing the sun, I'd have brought sunscreen, but it wasn't such a long ceremony that I burned. The reception was, likewise, lovely - and I appreciated the compliment that "it's not a party unless Bob and Laura are here", even if it made me giggle a bit.

Something that made the whole table giggle was the Dove "messages" chocolate favours; after the guys got "Take a bubble bath", "Buy yourself flowers", "Discover yourself", and "Find your special place", we started passing around all the messages.

In one of those spooky little coincidences, I, in my nice red cocktail dress, got "You know what? You look good in red". Fortunately, Bob agreed.

The drive back Sunday was livened up, as I said in an earlier entry, by the truly spectacular flat tire that made even the mechanic's receptionist raise her eyebrows - it looked like the Devil's own machete had come down and tried to slice the tire in half - it was split across the width and down the sides almost to the rim.

Bob is a master at changing a tire, by the way - it took less than 15 minutes, and we were in the center median with about a foot and a half of space to work in. He wouldn't let me get out of the car, since to do so, I would have had to get out into the left lane of highway traffic. Every time a car went by, the whole truck rocked.

But less than 15 minutes later, we were on our way again. I love that man.

But, I am also busy, so here is where we part ways again until tomorrow.

Dorsal - Ventral

Funnier than me: James Lileks

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all words copyright Laura Mellin 2000-2005


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