The Mister and I attended the wedding of a friend’s daughter last weekend in Houston. When I wasn’t busy being simultaneously intrigued and repulsed by Tattoo Girl (sorry, tattoo fans, but when I see big ones like this, I can’t help but wonder how saggy they’re going to look in 20 years or so; that bird will be ready for the fryer!), I had to chuckle about how clueless we are.
First of all, I knew we would be among the worst-dressed guests just by how schlubby we are naturally. During the ceremony, the preacher said, “Some of you put on better outfits than others.”
Hey, I resemble that remark!
Second, as we climbed into a photo booth that was near our table in the reception hall, our friend Glenda insisted that we use some of the props put out for the booth-goers to wear. We very reluctantly agreed . . . but not without problems, of course.
Obviously, I touched the screen before we both were ready to pose. I needed to be able to google “Where’s the camera on a photo booth?”
I definitely got the better end of this photo deal. At least we didn’t have to get matching tattoos!