I was standing there in the little chapel, it was burning hot, my sunburn was killing me, the kids were quiet and my poor fiancé is there next to me and we're trying hard not to laugh - the ministers' nose had a booger flying in and out as he spoke. My poor fiancé was severely hung over, thanks to his friends, Gerry, Mo and Martin (love you fuckers!), samsonites hanging from under his eyes. I was thinking, "Holy shit he's actually doing it! He picked me!"
We went with a Hawaiian shirt theme because Ronnie wanted to get married in shorts.
His mother cried the whole time.
Then we were married, boogers and all.
The rest of the weekend went great, then the day we left, Ronnie was off with his buddies, I was with my evil little fiends. We were walking along the main drag, I stopped to look at a menu in front of some grand hotel that had a huge rock feature in the front. A woman walking behind me said, "What's that little boy doing?"
Oh shit.
I look and Marc (six at the time) was standing on the top of the rock feature, pants down, facing traffic, pissing on the water. More than a few people were giggling. I hauled him off there and explained the rules of urinating outside.
Our house may never be clean, the laundry never done and there's always some crazy boy funk. Glad you love it honey! Happy 4th anniversary honey!
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