Still recovering from almost missing my looming deadline folding wedding blankets

I was blessed to attend a wedding recently. They, on the other hand, were not so blessed to have me on hand "to help." My skill set is strictly limited to snacking and making sarcastic remarks. When it was quickly discovered that I couldn't assemble metal arches, weave flower garlands, or drape tulle and twinkly lights across smooth surfaces, I was assigned the important task of rolling wedding blankets. 

The most important rule in rolling wedding blankets is to NOT ask why one must roll wedding blankets in the first place. If you are silly enough to question even the mere existence of wedding blankets, you might be downgraded to fanning out the pretty personalized cupcake napkins. The most important rule in fanning out the personalized cupcake napkins is to NOT point out that people will be wiping their frosted faces on the pretty personalized cupcake napkins so why not buy the 500-pack of economy napkins from Stuff-mart. Should you cross THAT line, you will then be relegated to putting a thousand tablecloth clips on the outdoor patio furniture.

"Okay, explain to me how to do this," I sighed, choosing the least of the wedding preparation evils. After my tutorial, I was exiled to the bedroom so I could "concentrate.""Concentrate," my ass, I was being sequestered from the social activities. "Keep her busy," someone had said, so I was given the adult equivalent of a coloring book.

"Hotdog, hotdog," I chanted, establishing a rhythm, not unlike the work songs of the men driving in the railroad spikes. Having folded the blanket, the long way, twice, I then flicked the fabric over the bed like a whip. Starting at the short end, I'd tightly roll it up, wrestle on a ribbon and then attach the cute card. 

Easy.

Except it wasn't.

I couldn't get the sides to line up perfectly.

Hot dog was an appropriate image as my rolled blankets often resembled an over-microwaved frankfurter flare-up. They looked like an eggroll had exploded. I took a break...maybe I was hungry. The rest of the suite was empty as everyone else had left to visit the downstairs bar. They must have inadvertently forgotten me. I felt sorry for them, knowing that they weren't having any fun without me there.

I grabbed a cheese tray and returned to my duties.

I will spare you the horrors of trying to lasso those little doggies with the elegant ribbon bows. Those of you who have ever risked near-strangulation pulling on shape-wear will automatically empathize with my trials. 

Two hours later, I was done. The arch-way installers did not give me the accolades I felt I deserved. The woman weaving three room's length of flower garland couldn't  pause for even a baby breath's of a second to applaud...instead, pursing her tulips together in disapproval. I was then handed the pretty personalized cupcake napkins and sent to the kitchen.

Imagine my FURY, later at the party, when no-one was taking a blanket.

I prowled the patio until I spotted a sophisticated Romanian smoker curled elegantly on a chaise lounge.  "Can I get you a blanket?" I offered. Shaking her head "no," she smiled at me and pulled her fashionable shawl tighter around her. Infuriated, I stalked back to my pyramid of plush blankets and grabbed one for her. After a brief struggle, I succeeded in wrapping her up. I spent the remainder of the evening like a matador, chasing blanket-less bull-headed people around the party.

I wonder why I don't get invited to more weddings...I really do.