WEDDING SHOWERS IN QUEENS

    

I don't shoot anything wedding related ever! Well, thats not true because one entire year ago my neighbor booked me for her daughter's wedding shower. I knew that if she was already planning that soon in advance I was in for some crazy by the time the shower rolled around. But I couldn't say no. I don't know why but she had this look in her eyes and I was a little scared.

    I obviously put the date in a far recess in my brain only for it to one year later come back to me in frantic message left on my answering machine by said neighbor. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to do it. I wanted to get out of it so bad. But, Mommy taught me that if you make a commitment you stick to it, like when she made me dress up like a stupid green Girl Scout with that stupid ugly sash every week until the season was done. Ugh.

     Not only do I despise shooting events; I hate going to wedding showers. They are the most boring events ever. You have to watch someone open a million presents that they know they are getting and its all mass produced crap. I could just go to Target and Macy's if I wanted to see everything they were selling. For the record, if I ever have a wedding shower, which I probably won't because I don't want to torture friends and family, it will be at the Shake Shack. The ladies can wear fancy hats and we can sit and eat hamburgers. And no banal games, either. This is a promise. That to me sounds like a nice afternoon.

    The said shower was at Villa Russo in Richmond Hills, the predecessor to Russo's on the Bay in Howard Beach, where John Gotti's mansion is located. Needless to say, both are the ONLY place any well off Italian American in Queens who wants to show it all off has any kind of gigantic event. When I walked in from the 106 degree weather outside, I was at least grateful for the air conditioning. 

    Lining the mirrored statued walls in a ballroom graced with crystal chandeliers were more presents than I have ever seen in my entire life. This girl is not going to have to buy one thing when she moves into her fancy house. Not even toothpaste. And the tanned bodies covered in bling perched on gem studded high heeled shoes were really a feast for the eyes. 

    I was really happy when I got seated with old friends from the block and we talked about how we used to go around catching snails in hampers and I how I had to wear an Alf life preserver in the pool when I clearly was able to swim. 

    You can make any situation what you want with a little attitude adjustment. I could have been annoyed and pouty or really just embrace my inner guido and have a good time. Even though the announcement over a loud microphone of each and every gift, from a pencil holder to the finest china while paraded around for all the guests to see, was excruciating, I set out to make it a fun day. I took this great shot of some fancy acrylic hot pink nails holding a jar of homemade tomato sauce. Why there was homemade tomato sauce at the shower is unexplainable, but I bet it was some good Italian sauce.

   And great friend Holly from the block let me teach her son how to give the finger. That is genius and classy. And she took a great photo of it, that I should share, but maybe I shouldn't.