I have stories for other Colleen (this is long ment'd)

At our wedding, everyone had told me beforehand not to drink red wine in case it spilled on my dress. I thought they were total crazysauce, cause duh, what kind of adult spills wine all over herself? My motivation for getting white wine is that I am one of those unfortunate souls whose teeth, lips and tongue turn purple when I drink red wine, so I tend to not do it (to excess) in public. Anyway, when my husband of about an hour went to hug one of my cousins, he was flailing an arm behind him for some unknown reason, and dumped my wine all over the front of my dress. So, hurray for white wine and embarrassing purple teeth, and there's a hilarious picture of me looking down at my dress all "WTF" and DH and my cousin in the corner all "Eek!!" Instant classic photo.

 Second story. At my cousin's uber-fancy and fabulous wedding, my brother went to introduce himself to someone sitting kind of across the table. I'm sitting between them, so kind of to the side (round table). Their handshake knocks my champagne glass over, into my little cups of cold appetizer soup, and I get a full glass of champagne and a some butternut squash soup all over the lap of my light gray silk chiffon dress. So I go to the bathroom, which at this fancy country club had like 3 staff people, hair dryers, curling irons, real irons, everything you could ever need to fix yourself back up. Two staff ladies see me walk in and go about getting a hair dryer, towels, etc. This being south FL, and them having accents, I started speaking to them in Spanish (yes, I might have been sucking up just a tad) So I'm in the bathroom w/ them dabbing and club sodaing and drying and patting and chatting and it turns out they are from the Dominican Republic, and actually from this tiny little podunk village where I have gone several times to work at an orphanage. Then when I'm finally all fixed up, with help from my new friends, I go back to the party and the *extremely* apologetic spiller turns out to have graduated the year before me from my pretty small, liberal arts college in the south (in the midst of a shiit ton of Harvard and Yale grads). It was weirdness.

 So my point with these long, rambling, blathering stories, is that sometimes something good comes of having shiit spilled all over your fancy clothes at a wedding.