With the support and gusto of three trusty backup singers: Stella, Amanda and Karen, I took the plunge and married myself yesterday. We wore vibrant whipped cream dresses, day-glow makeup (including painted on eyebrows) and big hair crowned with a tiara. We danced in slow motion, summoned aliens, prayed to fruit gods, napped, picked noses, twirled, bicycled, and ran from wild animals while the wedding photographer and his team immortalized us inside a digital memory box.
(The wedding album is in the lab and will be up for viewing in about a week.)
After the ceremony, we satiated ourselves with tamarind crab, seafood rice, water spinach, Saigon beer, and one heart-shaped styrofoam cake. I caressed a yellow puppy, peed in a pee tent as an old woman stood guard, and rubbed purple sunset into my still frosty eyeballs.
Post reception involved wearing a cakebox, knee kisses, "hello" in a multitude of languages, a collective Vietnamese karaoke ballad, and cozy post nuptial slumber with my new wife, Mrs. Fenton.
The honeymoon has only just begun. Tonight I shall have a romantic candlelit dinner, relax in a heart shaped bathtub, ogle a waterfall, and make hours upon hours of sugary sweet love to myself.