27 Dresses
If there’s one thing I’ve had quite a bit of practice at, it’s being the drunken bridesmaid. Last Saturday, a good friend wrapped me up in hot pink sari, slapped some make-up on me and made me follow her around all day with a bunch of Asiatic lilies while some bloke with a Nikon D2X took photos. Then I was herded onto a mini-bus and shipped to a local winery, where I was fed a three course gourmet meal – though the more subtle flavours may have been marginally diminished by the 90 litres of champagne I consumed on the side. There was dancing, merriment, and a chubby hairy guy wearing nothing but a tie. It was my third foray into the world bridesmaiding, and I know I’ll be doing it at least twice more. That’s a lot of trips down the aisle for someone with nary a man-friend in sight.
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