What do you Mean, There's No Invitations in in the Invitations?!?

Last Saturday I went with my friend Jennifer over to her future mother-in-law's house to address her wedding invitations. She was supposed to come over and pick me up around noon and we'd drive out to Magnolia where Brad's mom lives, only apparently, Brad's mom had somewhere she needed to be at 1:00, so Jennifer ended up coming to pick me up at 9:30.

Grr. I was unaware that Sundays had a 9:30 in the freaking morning.

About 7:30, I'm making coffee and in my half conscience state I vaguely remember her mentioning that we were going to Magnolia. Where the fuck is Magnolia?

I go into the bedroom where Nick is peacefully sleeping and sort of poke at him until he grumbles at me. I ask him where in the fuck Magnolia is and he tells me it's near where they have the Renissance Festival every year.

This does me no good whatsoever because on the very few occasions someone has, against my better judgment, gotten me to go to the Renissance Festival, I've spent the whole hour long trip mentally preparing myself for the freaks in tights who will try to speak all Olde English at me and the tons of people who have been out in the sun too damn long who are coming to blows over the chainmail jewelry and ceramic unicorns.

Whatever. She's my friend. I'm in the wedding. I promised to help.

Jennifer picks me up and we're off to Magnolia but first we have to go to Sam's Club (will the horrors of this morning never end??) and pick up stamps. We get to the Sam's Club and this 90 year old former Nazi demands we wait for her while she puts some shopping carts away, because we're not allowed to enter this hell on earth before providing her with a card that proves we are allowed to do so.

I promptly ignore the Nazi and enter the store. She yells something at me, but not understanding what I presume to be German, I keep ignoring her.

We walk up to what appears to be the most dishartened checkout person of all time and I tell her that we need some stamps. She looks at me like I've just told her I need to remove her liver and replace it a cabbage right then and there and proceeds to tell me "Go and fill out an application over there" while pointing at some odd kiosk looking thing.

I ask her why in the hell I need to fill out an application for stamps and she says "Oh! I thought you said you need to work at Sam's". While I ask her why anyone NEEDS to work at Sam's Jennifer buys the stamps and we prepare to leave.

Dishartened Checkout Lady: Hang on to your receipt because you'll need to show it at the door before you can leave.

Me: Huh?

Dishartened Checkout Lady: You'll need to show the person at the door your receipt before you can leave.

Me: Like hell

I hiss at Jennifer to stuff the stamps in her purse and we make for the door where the twin sister of the first door-Nazi is demanding that the people trying to leave before us show her their receipt. I flee the Sam's Club without showing anyone a receipt. I am a rebel.

We start driving through what appears to be the place where they filmed "Deliverance" until we get to Magnolia and Brad's mom's house. We pull into the driveway and I notice that her neighborhood is cute and much less terrifying than I had anticipated. We walk up the driveway and through the backyard. I stop dead in my tracks.

What the fuck is that ?!?!?

Apparently it's Rocky...the miniature horse. Seriously...it's three freaking feet tall. Don't get me wrong, it's cute and all, but horses should be big and sleek and sturdy looking and at least larger than a dog.

Anyway...we're addressing invitations and we've gotten about 100 of them done. I've already addressed all the ones on my list and am helping one of the oldest woman I've ever seen who is still breathing (aka, Brad's grandmother) stuff the envelopes, when this conversation happens:

Grandma: What's that you've got there?

Me: (confused) These are the invitations.

Grandma: Well, I don't rightly think I've put any of those in the envelopes.

Jennifer: WHAT?!?!?

Me: Hee Hee. Rocky's drinking out of the pool.

Yes, Brad's grandma had stuffed about 75 envelopes with the response card, response card envelope and map to the reception hall, but NO WEDDING INVITATION!!!

Now let me say this...Jennifer is a much better person than I am, because had those been my wedding invitations that were being torn open so that the invitations could be inserted and the re-sealed using tape, we would have been digging a hole for grandma's body out behind Rocky's miniature barn.

The rest of the day was kind of a blur because I kept stuffing envelopes and thinking to myself: Must go home and drink much wine.

Does this make me a bad friend?