What did we do? That was the name given to the Sunday BBQ after Lauren and I made it official. While the question was rhetorical, it didn’t really matter as the younger generation wasn’t ready to answer morning after, about the night before. Luckily, there’s no better remedy than pulled pork and shenanigans.
More Day After, after the break. Continue reading
I don’t often take selfies. But when I do, I get married shortly thereafter. Six months have passed since I took this photo and the emotions are still there. In fact, I had to stop writing this post just to sit in memories (which was a bit awkward as I’m currently on a plane filled with 300 of my closest friends). Now, we’ve all seen the beautiful work that Jean-Laurent captured, so I won’t try to reproduce what some have deemed “the most photographed wedding ever.” What I will do is share the few frames I managed to capture that day, and the thoughts that went through my mind. Hope you enjoy them as much as I still do.
More after the break.
I have a confession. I almost didn’t march. Go ahead. Judge me. I’ll wait. In all honestly, I didn’t realize what the marches were about. Yes, I can read, so I knew it was for women. But I was turned off by the idea of protesting for protesting’s sake. Spontaneous rallies had broken out Downtown earlier in the week, and while I supported the cause I hated the goons who used the opportunity to close freeways, scream at cops, and twiddle up their T-Shirts into muggers masks. None of that was experience at the women’s march. Not in the slightest.
More march after the break. Continue reading
We didn’t have costumes. No buckets of candy neither. Instead we paired a gallon of cider with unrelenting desire to carve the shit out of some pumpkins.
More pumpkin after the break. Continue reading
So. Many. Activities. For four glorious days six boys descended on one Montana cabin and found all sorts of ways to entertain themselves. Wake surfing. Hatchet throwing. Fly fishing. Beer Die. Mountain biking. Hatchet throwing. Everything became a competition, and this bachelor-no-more took home the ultimate prize. Memories. That and the most wins of the weekend.
More bachelor party after the break. Continue reading
Not one. Not two. Not three. Actually it is two. But who’s counting? Me that’s who. I’m no good at simple math, but that comes out to one ‘ship for each year I’ve called this city home. After a glorious 9-1 season capped by a loss-avenging finals victory, the crew decided a celebration was in order. Some champions get a parade, this bunch settled for ice cream.
More images after the break. Continue reading
[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 