You want rice with that?

So my brother's wedding is this weekend. I'm so not up for the hype, but here it comes. As a bonus, I have only a three day work week, so I've got that going for me. So that'll be my weekend. It's going to be ritzy enough, ceremony and reception at Gallier Hall, Joe Krown on music detail, a sit-down meal. And, of course, wedding always translates to my favorite two words in the world: open bar.

The real challenge, beyond the requisite wedding duties (pictures, pre-nuptial parties, etc) is that I have to make a toast. It's really killing me. I've put it off literally for months. Now it's a few days till zero hour and I find myself scrambling. Nothing, I'm sure, that a good fat bowl and a few hours won't cure, but who's got time for that.

I have wear a frigging suit, too. I can't stand wearing suits. Probably the last time I wore one was for my grandfather's funeral last year. In fact, I'm sure of it. Now, it's a nice set of threads mind you, all black, silk lapel, 12 by 12 rental tag on the inside, but being cooped up in a monkey suit for five or six hours? Gives me hives just thinking about it.

Oh, I do get some pampering on Friday. My sister-in-law-to-be set up appointments for shaves at Aidan Gill for Andy and I and our dads. I'm growing out the beard so they have to earn the obscene fee for shaving my ugly mug.

Blah.

I'm going for a drive to check backup tapes now. Boring.