Nightmare on Caroline Street: Worst. Wedding Toast. Ever.

Pin It

Mortified (adj)
1. To cause to experience shame, humiliation, or wounded pride; humiliate.

synonyms: ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated, horrified

I'll be sharing photos and stories from my sister's (beautiful) wedding this week, but I thought perhaps I'd share the final, culminating moment that forced me to become fast friends with the reception's bar tender.

My mom nagged me all last week about writing a speech to toast my sister at the wedding last night.

Foreshadowing myself, I told her that I didn't think it would be a good idea. I couldn't think of anything to say. The last thing I want is 200 people staring at me in my Dolly Parton hairdo and hideous unattractiveness in my bridesmaid dress. Plus, I just didn't want to.


By the time yesterday morning rolled around, my mom had done a masterful job at creating an intricate tapestry of guilt that she laid on top of my head like an old, stuffy wool blanket. As the other bridesmaids lounged around in my sister's hotel suite painting their nails and applying the perfect shade of eye shadow, I hastily composed a speech.




Yes, that is duct tape on the back. The paper ripped as I was folding it, and duct tape was all the hotel had on hand at the moment. Don't judge me.

The nightmare wasn't in the composition. It was actually a pleasant mix of a few humorous, little-known facts about my sister that made the crowd laugh and some sweet thoughts at the end for some sentiment.

The nightmare was in the presentation.

Exhibit A:
The Best Man was first up, as the crowd of 200 gathered round on the dance floor with their drinks. The Maid of Honor and I stood behind him, clutching our champagne glasses and nervously glancing over at the bride and groom.

I noticed Natalie standing at the edge of the crowd as the Best Man spoke. I also noticed that she didn't seem to be near any family members, but I decided to focus on the toast instead.

Just as I was about to pass out from nerves, the Best Man finished his (thoughtful and well presented) speech and it was my turn.

I took a deep breath, placed my glass on the table, and began to speak.

I was about third of the way through my toast when I noticed a small flash of white darting in and out of my field of vision.

It was very close.

When I felt a small burst of wind, I realized that not only had Natalie escaped from the edges of the crowd, but she was behind me, dancing around and flipping the skirt of my dress around. I pray to God that the Master of Ceremonies, who was standing behind me, did not get a glimpse of anything under that dress. He'd be scarred for life.

Shrugging it off, I kept talking and tried to swat at her a bit, the way one would shoo away a pesky fly. Mentally begging some member of my family to save me from the impending horror that was soon to befall me, I forged ahead.

I've done some public speaking before, and I prefer to give the illusion of speaking extemporaneously, rather than reading straight from a paper. I had the speech dangling from one hand as I spoke when I felt it snatched from my hand.

I looked down in horror to see Natalie disappear under the table and roll around. I frantically wished that one of the groomsmen in uniform would threaten her with a saber, but no one came to my aid.

Sheer mortification kept me from expressing the absolute rage I felt at that point. I had a vague recollection of what the last few thoughts of my speech were, so I winged that last bit, adding something about wishing them "a million happy little moments...that don't include her" (gesturing under the table).

As the crowd laughed, I downed that glass of champagne as quickly as humanly possible.

When I looked up, Natalie was conspicuously absent, and I have since been informed that T hauled her off to the back of the dining room for a spanking and a stern talking to.

I don't think I'll be invited to do another wedding toast any time soon, and I'm actually fine with that. After the girls went home with T, I met my friend "Tom Collins" at the bar, but no amount of mixed drinks can erase the indignity I suffered.

Next time, I'll use the duct tape to strap a certain 3 year old to a chair instead of mending my torn speech.

If you'd like to hear about more ways my children embarrassed me yesterday, please stay tuned, as I'll be sharing more stories for you to have a laugh at my expense this week.

On another note: My next Decorating Dilemmas Party will be up tomorrow (Tuesday) night after 10 pm.

The last one was a blast with a very good turn out. There will be another prize!
If you didn't have a chance to stop by the first time, this is a party for bloggers to link up with any challenges they have in or around their homes (decorating, crafts, organizing, gardening, construction). Your dilemma can be anything from "Help! My son drew on my walls in permanent marker and I don't know how to cover it up" to "What color should I paint my coffee table?" I also love it when people have great solutions to share. This party is all about being real and helping out our bloggy friends. We're going to have a blast. Anyone planning on coming?

You can click here to see the entries from the last party. Hope to see you there!

Pin It