But you're not wearing shoes...

Okay, so Vincent's antics increased my blog readership by 1200% and that's awesome.  That's also a completely accurate statistic because I googled "percentage increase" to figure that out.  I majored in English.  We don't know how to do math.  So there's that.  In light of that particular bit of awesomeness, I've decided to write another post about wedding stupidity.  I'm also taking advantage of Mandy being out of town, so writing this now gives me a few days to hide before she comes back to kill me for telling this story to all 1200% of my readers.  

So yeah, once upon a time, Caitlin and Mack got married, and because they're delightful people who love their alcoholic friends, they had an open bar at their wedding.  Naturally, we imbibed.  A lot.  Now, I know I said that English people don't do math, but that's not really true.  Our math just doesn't make much sense.  I'm telling you this because I've developed some completely bullshit mathematical theories involving Mandy and drinking.  

Yes, I've put a great deal of thought into Mandy Math.  Like, possibly two entire minutes went into that.  You're welcome.  These are certainly important things to know if you're going to be drinking with Mandy, but there's one more rule, and it's the most important of them all.  Mandy+Drinking=Fall.  This is an absolute certainty.  Furthermore, the more she drinks, the more epic the fall will be.  If there were a drinking curve to Mandy Math, at the time of this story, Mandy was about here.

Anyway, some song came on, and Mandy looks to Bobby and goes, "IT'S OUR SONG!  LET'S GO DANCE!"  Note that I don't know what song it was.  This is because when Mandy+3 Drinks kicks in, whatever song is playing is officially "OUR SONG" between Mandy and whomever she's currently looking at.  It's kind of like Spin the Bottle, but with her retinas.  She was looking at Bobby, so woot, he was going dancing.  Mandy jumps up from the table, prepared to run for the dance floor, and the next thing we all know...

Yeah, only Mandy manages to face plant in the tornado drill position.  Matt comes running over to help her, and in his utter horror at what had just transpired, all he can say is, "Oh my GOD.  YOUR FACE."  This sends Mandy into a complete panic, and I'm pretty sure she was convinced that she was permanently disfigured, doomed to forever look like the love child of Sloth from the Goonies and um...I don't know, someone blonde and big-boobed.  

Her face was fine, as Matt quickly clarified.  "No, but your face.  YOU LANDED ALL UP ON YOUR FACE!  You got bitch slapped by the FLOOR!"  Matt's such a helpful guy.  Matt helps Mandy to her feet, she turns to me, and since I'm not generally one to be sympathetic, I just go, "Mandy...what the fuck was that?"  "My shoes!" This is where I officially think she needs to be cut off.  "Mandy...you're not wearing shoes."

That was a good question.  A sizable group of us looked around for a WHILE for the other stupid shoe.  Somehow, Mandy had turned Caitlin and Mack's wedding into a fucked up, drunken Easter egg hunt, except instead of getting cool plastic eggs filled with candy or money or something, the winner would receive a stinky ass used shoe.  FUN.  Anyway, we finally located the other shoe.  In the midst of her epic fall, the other shoe had flown off her foot, across the wedding reception, over the top of several tables, and landed, luckily without stilettoing someone in the ear because that would be awkward and painful.    

See?  Told you.  Awkward.  Anyway, Mandy's story is that somehow the heel of one shoe got caught in the ribbon detail of her other shoe, thus sending her catapulting into the ether.  Personally?  I think she got so caught up in Baby Got Back or whatever was playing that she threw herself on the floor in a seizure of delight.  Anyway, at this point, it dawns on her that she just looked like an idiot.  Okay, wait, just to verify,

BAHAHA!  Yup.  Still funny.  What was I saying?  Oh, yeah, so I kind of felt bad for her and suggested we walk outside for a minute.  This was so I could laugh at her unabashedly without further embarrassing her and so she could hide.  We grabbed drinks on the way because, OBVIOUSLY, Mandy needed another one.  We sit our drinks on the ground beside our chairs, I smoke a cigarette, and Mandy attempts to recover some dignity.  When we get ready to go back in, Mandy picks up her drink, looks in it, goes, "Aw man!  There's ash in my drink!  ...oh well."  She chugged the whole nasty ass thing.  So much for dignity.  I mean, wouldn't you drink a lot, too, if you had done this?

BAHAHA.  Yup.  Still funny.