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Millie Noe | October 20, 2017

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The Extra

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It was a Friday night.
Fall was in the air when Sven and I arrived home around eight o’clock.
Our oldest son, who was closing in on fourteen, was busy entertaining friends.
Music was was drifting out the upstairs window as we parked the car.
We looked at each other.
There was no TV in the loft.
So it was rare to ever find a kid there.
But on that evening there were four of them.
Two of which, were girls.
“Hi Mom,” says Marques when I got to the top of the stairs.
“Hi,” I answered.
And then Sven and I were introduced.
“We’re going to walk them home,” says Marques a little while later.
Here is the thing.
Our house is located in the middle of nowhere.
“Where do they live?” I said. “We can give them a ride.”
Sven pokes me in the back.
“Nicolette just lives in the Grove, Mom. We can walk there. We do it all the time.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
That was a lie. That kid had never walked to the Grove.

“Are you sure you girls don’t want a ride?”
They blushed, shook their heads and flashed their pearly whites.
And just like that, they were out the door carrying a couple of flashlights.
“I think the cute one with the braces likes Marques,” said Sven.
“I think that’s a long way for them to walk in the dark!” I said.
“Millie,” he says. “I swam across the lake late at night, for Jeanie the tramp, when I was about the same age.”
Okay, fine. I added the tramp part.
“Yes, and you could have drowned too,” I said.
“Lucky for you I didn’t.”
I could write a hundred stories that have all come to fruition due to that particular night when that cute little girl with those braces entered our lives.
But today I am writing just one.
And this one is about her cousin.
I am often referred to as the extra aunt, the extra sister or the extra grandma, depending who you are talking to in my daughter-in-law’s family.
The reason I am writing about Nicolette’s cousin today, is because her cousin is getting married.
I know.
Lots of people get married.
But I am not always invited to everyone’s bachelorette party.
One day I logged into my computer and voila.
An event popped up on Facebook.
I didn’t have to bring a dish to pass.
I didn’t have to bring my checkbook.
All I needed was myself.
And it said something about a party bus and little black dresses.
I immediately hit the, am going, button.
And a few months later, I found myself dining in the midst of people with names like, Baby Maker, Bad Example, Wild Thang, Hot Mess and Booty-Licious.
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And soon after I was seated on a bus with strobe lights flashing and people wearing funny glasses singing, “It’s Raining Men.”
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The bus stopped.
The driver blew the horn.
Clicking heels descended the stairs.
That’s when I learned that everyone must make a grand entrance when they are traveling in the company of a bachelorette.
And that trays of shots come in all colors.
And those trays come from all sides.
We danced to the music of a country western band out on the floor next to an elderly woman with a gray ponytail that went to her ass, and striped long underwear, under her shorts that happened to be covered in brilliant green turtles.
All at once a little black skirt landed on the dance floor in front of me.
The face of the owner of that black skirt that was laying on that floor was priceless.
In just two seconds that skirt was back up and around her waist.
The dancer didn’t look for a safety pin until the song was over.
“How did you meet Will?” I asked Lisa Marie, back on the bus, over Patty LaBelle.
“At work,” she answered. “I used to see him in the break room by the microwave. I kind of had a crush on him. And then one day we were talking while my mac and cheese was spinning around and bubbling over the top of my bowl, and he asked me if I wanted to do something that night.”
“Sweet.”
“But I told him I couldn’t because I had to go Christmas shopping. And I hated Christmas shopping. He said he hated Christmas shopping too. So we went Christmas shopping together.”
“Awwwwww,” came the echo.
The bus stopped.
The driver blew the horn.
Clicking heels descended the stairs.
Girls were starting to get a little wild.
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And then a little blonde in a little black dress, took a crisp twenty from the singer of the alternative rock band who was foolish enough to take her up on her bet.
It wasn’t his fault.
He did pretty good.
But it was rigged.
That little girl in that little black dress was the Marine of the year.
Which explains why she couldn’t stop doing pull ups on that bar going across the bus while others were tossing plastic rings onto plastic penises and dancing around poles.
“Was it Will’s collection of stupid t-shirts that caught your eye?” I asked the bride.
“I didn’t even know we shared the same love of ridiculous t-shirts when I met him,” she answered.
The bus stopped.
The driver blew the horn.
Clicking heels descended the stairs.
There was more dancing.
There were more trays.
Back on the bus.
Back off the bus.
The bride did the River dance.
Back on the bus.
And then do you know what?
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Those kids went and called Uber and they put the mother of the bride, the aunt of the bride and the extra aunt of the bride, into a car and sent tehm back to the hotel.
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I KNOW!
Fortunately this all happened a couple of months ago.
Because one needs ample time to recuperate from such affairs.
It was a beautiful August afternoon last Saturday, when we arrived at the VFW, where tables and chairs were draped in white and adorned with purple and blue centerpieces.
Everything was running right on schedule.
Until one of my granddaughters heads were slammed shut in a car door by one of my other granddaughters hands.
But Iris was still able to count fingers in front of her face, state her name and birthdate and work her camera, even with that lump on her noggin.
And we were able to clean up the mascara that ran down Oceanne’s face before we were asked to be seated.
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My daughter-in-law, Bad Example, and my extra niece, Booty-licious, stood in front of the room with the wedding party as Hot Mess, Baby Maker and the rest of us listened to the thoughtful words spoken by the bride and groom, who were making life long promises to each other and into the perfectly placed microphone.
And causing an awful lot of nose blowing in the room.
It turns out, they are in love.
Wait.
He just kissed the bride.
Oh.
That was a good one.
Hang on a second.
Here come the newly weds now.
“Excuse me, Will?”
“Yeah?”
“What was it that clinched the deal for you? I mean when exactly did you know that Lisa Marie was your gal?”
“Oh. It was the night she lip-synced New York, New York, while standing on the kitchen chair.”
“What?” said Lisa Marie. “I thought it was my air guitar, that won you over.”
“No.”
“I thought you like the way I whip my hair around to the Piano Man.”
“I do. But that wasn’t it.”
“It wasn’t?”
“Baby, you had me that first night at, Start singin’ the news.”
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Well, there you have it folks.
These two are clearly a match made in heaven.
I’m not sure how legal this is, but my extra niece is now married to my extra nephew.
So start singing the news.
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“It’s up to you, New York.
Neeeeeewwweeeewwww, Yooooooooooooooooorrrkkkkkkkkk!”