Most of you don't know that I'm attending the wedding of the Pink Gator's cousin tonight. The wedding ceremony and reception itself were quite lovely--the bride beautiful and happy, the attending all smiles and laughter.
Earlier tonight, I'd sat through most of the reception, and the Pink Gator was marvelling at the appalling song selection of the DJ. I mentioned that at least the DJ hadn't played the Chicken Dance, which brought me to the rules of my wedding (which, granted, will be entirely to the approval of the bride-to-be).
- No "Chicken Dance."
- No "Y.M.C.A."
- No "Electric Slide."
- No "Macarena."
Once we saw the bride and groom out the door (with sparklers--which my singed fingers are considering a bad idea for future weddings, BTW), the DJ started playing the "Chicken Dance."
And then he followed it up with the "Electric Slide." And then "Y.M.C.A."
Luckily he then played a song not on my list--"Mambo No. 5," which promptly was added to the list (along with "Hey Ya" for good measure). He finally ended the misery with the "Macarena."
I thought to myself, "How could this possibly get any worse?"
And then heard the familiar strains of "Rocky Top."