The Beatles are all right, but they never got you high.

I worked my first night as a wedding coordinator. It was anti-climatic and not at all glamorous, even while I expected neither. There weren't even any mildly attractive young men to distract myself with. The remainder of the weekend hours were spent pursuing Walmart at late hours and getting reprimanded for taking pictures, I'm quite surprised they didn't ask me to destroy my camera as its contents may very well have contained evidence of their corruption and conspiracy. Sunday I treaded around Minnehaha Falls and pretended to be Louis and Clark by forging new trails and scaling precarious rock formations in a skirt and sandals. It should also be noted that I did some amazing renditions of Disney songs from Pocahontas, complete with enthusiastic attempts at dancing.

I was intrigued by the number of people who appeared to be baptizing their young spawns by dangling them over ledges Michael Jackson style. I also saw Wedding Crashers. Maybe I haven't attended enough weddings, but I found it disappointing. Old School set my comedic standard for those fellows.