I went to a cousin's wedding yesterday — good times, not least because I got to hang out with some of my cooler relatives at the reception. Wedding planners take note: I'm not an instigator, but my table tends to be the rowdy one.

There was also a candy buffet; I'd forgotten how awful the Laffy Taffy jokes are. By turning off our brains we were able to answer the riddles with a fairly good success rate.

Since Josh and his girlfriend had volunteered to D me home, I was able to cut loose on the drinking for the first time in months — though I'd like to think (and my lack of hangover will back me up on this) that I never passed the stage we call "Professor Dan."

(Absurdly, I'm somewhat proud of having gotten drunk without embarrassing myself in some way. Not so much as a stumble! No indelicate phrasings! And contrary to my predictions earlier in the night, I did not end up in front of the television at 1 a.m., watching old Lost episodes and heckling Jack.)

The wedding itself was notable for the sheer number of wedding party members (seven groomsmen!) and for the odd crucifix in the center of the church: it was just Jesus, with no cross, so it looked like he was jumping into some really cold water.

I'd been disastrously late to the last wedding this family had, so I tried to get there very early. That didn't work out (curse you, 35E!) but at least I didn't disrupt anything when I arrived three minutes before the ceremony. As I walked in, the cousin from that previous wedding made eye contact and we tapped our noses in understanding.