a million more wedding photos

And as always, a million props to photographer Ryan Brenizer.
This is me with my parents at an informal wedding rehearsal the day before the wedding. Note (foreshadowing alert!) the large yellow art object behind me, directly blocking the stage. This piece of art consisted of a large, non-functional speaker painted yellow, with a silver tray of fake brownies nailed to the top. A small plaque declared that the work was entitled something like "Fuck You Installation."

This is the back of my head. And this is my mother. My mother is not, in fact, offering me a coke; she just happens to be holding one. I did, however, while getting ready in the bathroom, poke my head out and request a bagel with lox and cream cheese, and soon, one magically appeared (thanks, Syd!) Apparently there are some perks to being the bride.

This is a bird's-eye view of people mingling before the ceremony. Not that birds are allowed in CB's, or know an f-stop from their asses.

Lord gesticulating in front of not just one, but two pieces of art (anybody know whom the black-and-white gentleman is supposed to be?)

This is my brother and father moving "Fuck You Installation" to a safe, non-stage-blocking location. As my father always said when I was growing up: it's easier to get forgiveness than permission.

I have previously posted pictures of my sneaking out the back way from CB's (with an umbrella and the soundman) so I could come back in the front door and walk down the aisle, but none of those photos depicted the madness that is, apparently, a pile of bricks stacked carefully on a discarded mattress.

(Note: when most brides disappear out the back way with the soundman, they don't come back).

(Also: this is the same soundman who asked if my bridesmaids were going to be hot, and declared that he had "a roofie with someone's name on it." How lovable!)

I like this one because it shows I've been working out. Or else that door is really heavy. Also, it appears that a band called "Jen's Haulage" is going to be playing. I don't know what that means.

What's on the ceiling? Oh, wait, I'm supposed to be doing what? Oh, right.

(Note: My friends Catherine and Roberto contributed flowers as a gift and made those bouquets themselves. Years ago, I went to their wedding in Oregon, and since have referred to them as "the people who got married standing in a stream." It was wet).

Me and my bitches.

You can't really tell here, but their dresses were rather cleverly coordinated. Molly's was black with a big white bow up top, and Megan's was black with white polka dots and a little bow at the waist.

Walk towards the fuzzy people!

Gettin' hitched.

What am I all the sudden, earnest? Unironic? Don't tell.

The recessional back down the aisle. Note the conspicuous absense of Fuck You Installation.

The typical family-in-front-of-punk-club portrait that every Ramones-loving clan has. Note the enormous man on the left. I didn't hire a bouncer; that's my little brother.

Photographic evidence of me eating carbs.

And sixty small, plastic, made-in-China, heart-shaped bottles of bubbles were opened.

You can't keep me away from a microphone, even when I'm supposed to be demure. I'm actually, I think, announcing that we're all going to walk to dinner at the Ukrainian East Village Restaurant.

The parade down St. Marx Place from the ceremony to dinner. I love this guy in the background with the sunglasses and the nonchalant attitude. Actually, we paid him to be there. Just like we piled that mattress with bricks ourselves. We like a little urban flavor.

bobbyblue, my spelling bee co-host, and musical comedienne Adira Amram (who's getting married in June!)

Enormous bottles of Czech beer -- both economical and stylish!

College friends.

New York friends.

Related posts:

first wedding picture
Pictures: Pre-Wedding
Pictures: The Ceremony
Pictures: After the Ceremony
a very CBGBs wedding
CBGBs