My third cousin, Denise, is getting married tonight. In half an hour, I have to get my hair cut and straightened and my eyebrows shaped in a proper arch. Why all the prepping? Well, it’s an ITALIAN wedding. Last time one of my Italian cousins got married, she rose from the floor in a sea of dry ice and surrounded by 15 bridesmaids and 14 groomsmen doing Yegermeister (sp?) shots. I have to blend.

After I turn myself into Fran Dresher, then we’re off to Long Island. The wedding is at 7:00. And we’re leaving at 12:30. Why? To avoid the Hampton traffic. May I just say that Long Island is a festering sore on the coast of America. It should just surgically removed from main coast, and sent off to sea with Billy Joel and Alex Baldwin and P. Diddy. Later, dudes.

The Question of the Day: What was the most memorable wedding you attended? (Can’t include your own wedding.)