Les-Ding Last Sunday I participated in - by playing for - a lesbian wedding. This makes it my 2nd of such events. Much to my annoyance, I wasn�t forewarned this was a Les-Ding. In the state of MA, every other church has a rainbow flag waving in the wind. One church goes as far as flashing LGTB in huge letters above a bright rainbow; assume it is short for Lesbian, Gay, Transsexual and Bisexual. It is highly likely that one will eventually see two brides spooning each other to pose for their wedding photos on the lawns of Boston Commons. To be honest, I don�t particularly want to witness two girls (or two boys) become wives (or husbands) then groping for a gnarly French kiss. French kissing is just bad news whether or not you are heterosexual or homosexual. However, it seems to me homosexuals make a real x-rated drama out of their kiss; the only part of homosexuality that the world actually witnesses. Therefore, I will retire from this particular field. Les-Ding #1 The two brides each wore huge white wedding gowns. One looked like a 6 ft man with very long teeth in a meringue dress & the other was rather short and large with fake eyelashes which made it hard for her to open her eyes. Even though it was a very small gathering, it was apparent they rejoiced their 4 star wedding and enjoyed the attention it brought them. They posed for pictures in and out of the hotel and played a recorder & oboe duet during the ceremony. (They called it the union of harmony.) My perception of this particular Brandenburg movement will forever be ruined by the image & sounds of the taller bride missing every note and rhythm. Understandably, these two had gathered as many spectators as an Olympic event on Boston Commons but nothing seemed to bother the two girls. They bounced all over the place; they danced the first dance and they hugged & kissed each other then fed each other big chunks of cake. At the end of the night, they took off on a horse carriage disappearing into the sunset. Les-Ding #2 Far from sharing the luxuries of #1, Rebecca and I sat outside on a lawn to serenade the guests as they walked into the tiny house with a crooked tent on their dog-bowl-movement filled lawn. We had originally placed ourselves on their dog-bowl-movement filled lawn for about half a minute until we could not stand the stink. We then relocated ourselves onto the lawn next door under a very small tree. Reb described the couple next door as trailer trash and we were going to be best dressed out of everyone who will gather for this event. She wasn�t kidding. My Moschino dress shuttered, afraid it would gather unwanted stinks from the wedding party. There were some children in wheel chairs. One was being screamed at by his caretaker to try to move his legs apart. It was obvious this child was partially paralyzed. There was a trio of grumpy old men wearing clothes they probably wear everyday holding canes and sitting at a plastic round table covered with purple paper table cloth. There was a guy wearing a party hat with a tuxedo printed t shirt, apparently he was in charge of the entire shindig. A bunch of girls were wearing yamakas. There were several people in half and some full Native American costumes. One man was holding an entire wing of some dead bird. There was a woman with a messy perm who slipped into a minister outfit & the rest were hippies and most of them smelled badly as they walked by. Guests had brought potluck for the reception which consisted of vegetable sticks; mainly unpeeled carrots & cucumbers in interesting shapes and sizes. Some brought chips and salsa and dips and other gooey stuff. I was so distracted by this group of people I sounded like a broken record player. I don�t think it would have been possible to gather such a weird group of people even if you tried. Suddenly, an old lady pulled into the driveway in front of us blocking our view. I didn�t really mind that so much. After Les-Ding #2 My duties were done; I ran into my car & got out of the street as fast as I could only to be blocked by another car driving towards me. She didn�t see me until she practically reached my bumper then proceeded to back up about half a block. I passed her to drive on. She followed me for some odd reason. I guess she was lost. NOT! After about 2 blocks, I stopped at a sign for a left turn & saw her car pulling next to me. Then I heard her scream on top of her lungs. �I back up all that way for you and YOU DON�T SAY THANK YOU?????!!!!!!!!� Is it really possible for someone to scream that loud unless you�re on Ricky Lake show? I was shocked. I drove off. She did too; she proceeded to tailing me wanting to smash into my car. At the next stop she pulled over next to me and screamed on top of her lungs. �GET OFF THE PHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNEEEEEE!!!!!� I didn�t even look at the woman but for a second. I did a double take after that one second & noticed a small child sitting next to his screaming mother - I would assume - who was worthy of Jerry Springer show. The distraction helped me block out whatever else she yelled. Now I felt terrible for the child, to have to deal with his mother everyday. Like Rebecca said - white trash road rage. I shook my head in disbelief once she drove off somewhere. She probably went back to the street and took my parking spot.

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