Tequila, 3. Angie/Jen, 0.

SO, the dress shopping endeavor ended up being so efficient that we were in and out of the store within 15 minutes. The person who took our parking spot must have thought they were on the receiving end of some excellent karma as we left the meter with nearly an hour of time still on it. In North Beach.

This is not to say that the store didn't have anything worth trying on. Incidentally, there were four dresses that could have been fabulous. HOWEVER, even with TWO HOURS LEFT before closing, they were not allowing any more fittings because two other brides were already there, in line for the changing rooms. WHATEVER. I asked if we couldn't just hunker down in a corner and I'd, like, hold up a sheet or something to act as a modesty panel for Angie while she changed. I don't think this particular establishment was willing to stoop quite so low even in the name of a sale and the proprietor said, "Um, NO. But you could come back next weekend during normal business hours and try on the dresses." "But we're here NOOOOOOOOoooooowwww," I wheedled. She would not be moved (hence my dislike for shop people...so unbending!), so we left and comforted ourselves with several margaritas. How many? you ask? I shan't tell, but let's just say the bartender commented that we must not have much planned for the rest of the day, given our consumption. Don't judge us. Those were 15 exhausting minutes of sifting through what looked like reject costumes for the next season of IceCapades. My retinas are still burning from all of the beading and sequins. The tequila was purely medicinal.

So! Next weekend we hope to get more done and perhaps find The Dress. We shall see. Because as any woman who has gotten married knows, you just have a visceral reaction to the dress that is the One. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to look like walking down the aisle (read = HOT), but wasn't sure what that would translate into, frock wise. After a few weekends of trolling around San Francisco and wondering how it was that so many dresses existed that were so outrageously ugly and then also expensive, I finally found the one that made all others melt away. It was simple...nothing to write home about on the hanger, but when I put it on, I actually burst-into-tears in the dressing room before coming out to show my friends. I'm not really the bursting into tears sort, so I knew that that kind of reaction meant something. And to this day, I loved how I looked on my wedding day in that gown, despite the huge red wine stain that ended up decorating the front by evenings end. Hey, it was a great reception. It happens.

I have faith that we'll find something excellent for Angie. And she'll look stunning, because no matter what she wears down that aisle, the fact that she'll be looking at Mike at the other end, full of happiness and ready to tell him that she's going to love him forever, well, that will make her more beautiful than any dress ever could. Truly.

Wow. That's a lot of sentiment for a Monday, no? This being said, perhaps we could just wrap her up in a white sheet and be done with it? Maybe? Yes? It would leave more time for margaritas! Hey-o!