I’m having one of those days where I’ve started and deleted this post roughly ten times because my brain is just a foggy Monday mess right now. If I’m not careful I’ll find myself just staring at a blank screen while I nod off into my coffee. Must. Stay. Awake. I’m fighting every urge to just lay back down and start my day at noon.
This past weekend Chris and I attended our last wedding of 2014 back in good ol Fremont, Nebraska. And it was quite the wedding to end on, I must say. It was full of all of his childhood pals and college bros. For a moment on Saturday it was like we time traveled back to college and were once again living the care-free days of our lives in Lincoln.
But I’ve time travelled back to 2014 today and I’m in pain. I just can’t handle those Fremont weddings. They’re too much for me.
I’m kinda glad we live in Chicago, far away from that time in our life. Because here’s the thing about Chris’s friends; they like to party. It also just so happens that not many of them like to get married (shocker, right?) So when one of them does happen to tie the knot, they celebrate pretty hard. They celebrate in a way that gentlemen in their late twenties probably should not be celebrating anymore. But as the saying goes, when in Fremont, Nebraska…
We jumped on a plane late Friday evening to head to the Paden wedding and didn’t get to Fremont until around midnight. I was excited to go to bed knowing the next day was going to be long and alcohol induced. But Chris had other plans. Instead, we met the groomsmen at a bar and stayed out with them until around 3:30 a.m., you know, because that’s what groomsmen do the night before a wedding.
The next day the wedding started at 4 p.m. so naturally drinks started at 3:00. It was a quick and beautiful ceremony and before we knew it we were back at cocktail hour ready to start a very long night of awkward wedding dancing and a full open bar. Of course things were going to get messy. It only made sense that the night would end with the groom rapping Rappers Delight and everyone on the dance floor falling on their butts because of the spilled drinks that had occurred all night. Because we all fell, not just me right? Okay good.
This is the only photo from the night because I tried to steer clear of cameras thanks to yet another bad haircut. Why do all stylists insist on giving me the 90’s Rachel ‘do???? I asked for a trim and came out a looking like a mom from a sitcom. Don’t even get me started.
Just talking about my hair gets me all riled.
Hair-people, how do I get mine to grow? Does getting a cut more than once a year really make your hair grow faster? Is this urban legend true? Someone help me.
Okay Monday, let’s do this.