a very marry weekend

I should probably go ahead and warn you that with the amount of weddings going on and coming up in this stage of life that this blog will be dedicated to me attempting to try to properly word my emotions as I see some of my oldest and dearest friends get married. Actually scratch that, instead it will be me word vomming and you reading a bunch of nonsense while looking at an obscene amount of pictures that you probably don't even care to see. Get used it. Get ready for it. Let's do it.

This past weekend was the wedding of my friend Hannah Michael. Do you have a friend whose name reminds you of a character? For instance, no one in my family calls my dad Dad or Russ. We all call him Russ Moore because Russ Moore is a character. Russ is just another name, but Russ Moore is the actual character. Same goes for my friend Hannah Michael. Calling her Hannah doesn't accurately describe her nuisances and quirks, but as soon as you add on that Michael it all starts to make sense.

So my friend. Hannah Michael. She's a hoot. During her father's speech he made the comment that Hannah should have been/should be a politician because she can fit in with the nerds, the jocks, the preps, the hipsters, and any other group of people. She not only gets along with these crowds, but she literally has such a broad and unique personality that she attracts just about any and all personality types. She slips on her Jack Rogers while making the most explicit fart jokes, if you catch my drift. Literally catch my drift. Wink.

I absolutely love this stage of life with my friends getting married. Isn't it fascinating to look back on your friendships and then fast forward to see the kind of person your friends have ended up with? Fas. Ci. ating. Hannah's first memory of me is when I was 14, too cool for school, and talking about my tan line from reading Harry Potter while outside in the sun. My first memory of 12-year old Hannah is her wearing seamed tights to dance, and me thinking that was so lame. Like the lamest lame. Because who wore seamed rights to ballet?! Spoiler alert: I became a seamed tight convert later in my ballet life, but that's obviously a story for another time. Get excited for that post. There is nothing like seeing the person your best friends have chosen, laughing with the person they've chosen, crying from laughing so hard from getting to know the person they've chosen, and opening a fourth or sixth bottle of champagne with the person they've chosen. I. Love. It. 

I also love that by going to so many weddings in a span of several years that we get to party continually with friends we otherwise would only get to see once in a blue moon. This all means that I have a short list of things I need. A) I need my friends to divorce constantly and remarry the same person every few years so we can all get together again or B) just host really giant anniversary parties. Your choice. Just as long as I get to dance to Earth, Wind, and Fire's September while tearing it up on the dance floor with my friends two to three times a year. Every year. Until at least 2050 when my knees may or may not  give out. 

Hannah, thanks for not giving up on stalking that cute boy in the library in college. Even when the police got involved (KIDDING KIDDING). Chris, thanks for sticking it through with Hannah because I've always dreamed my friends would marry someone FUN. And you are the most fun. And this is so obviously all about me. Wink. Reader(s. Plural when you count my mom AND dad), thanks for following along even though you don't know these world class people of whom I just talked a lot about. 

Next wedding is in T-minus thirteen days, so go ahead and mark you calendars for another Top Notch Word Vom post in T-minus fourteen days. 

To read more into the deep feelings I experience with good friends getting married, go here and here.