Last night I went to Jennifer Aniston's wedding.
What? You didn't know she got married? I don't think she knows either... because the wedding happened in my dreams.
Just to clarify, I don't usually dream about hanging out with celebrities. I usually dream about realistic things like dancing gorillas in bikinis who take me for pedicures. But last night, for some reason, I was in Dayton, Ohio for Jen's wedding. The Dayton part actually makes sense to me, because I go there every two years for the Erma Bombeck Humor Writers' Workshop and I remember thinking the last time I was there, "Gee, this would be a great place for Jennifer Aniston to get married."
Accompanying me to the wedding were my some of my blogger friends who don't know Jennifer Aniston any more than I do. Still, this also made sense to me because they all go to the conference with me in Dayton and I remember thinking the last time I was there, "Gee, it would be really fun to go to Jennifer Aniston's wedding with all these ladies."
But now, this is where things got a little nutty.
Apparently Jen asked all her guests to wear white. I wore a sexy white dress which, as it turned out, was the same dress Jen was wearing to her wedding. Since it was her second time at the alter, she had decided to forego the traditional long gown in favor of something short and sexy which showed off her great legs. Naturally, I had the same thought in mind when picking out my dress, although admittedly, it did look slightly better on her than it did on me. Nevertheless, when my blog posse and I arrived at the wedding, Chelsea Handler came dashing across the room and reamed me not only for wearing the same dress as Jen, but also for stealing Brad Pitt, who, as we all know, is not in fact my husband, but it's my dream so if I want to be married to Brad Pitt, I darn well can.
I told Chelsea that Jen and I had gotten past all that and I really needed to go find my seat before I had to get back to Brad and our kids in France.
As I stopped a waiter to get some andouille sausage hors d'oevres, Bobby Flay arrived with his date, Nicki Minaj (who was NOT wearing white, I might add) and a giant grizzly bear on a leash. Bobby Flay did not think much of the sausages but his bear liked them. I really have no idea what Nicki was doing in my dream though because she is not friends with Jen, she was not at the conference, and I didn't think much of her performance at the MTV VMAs.
Apparently Bobby was supposed to give Jen away at the altar and Nicki was supposed to perform the wedding march, but I still didn't know what the bear was there for. Before I had a chance to ask him, though, (Bobby, that is, not the bear) Bobby reamed me for wearing the same dress as Jennifer Aniston and then stormed off.
Meanwhile my blogger friends had holed up with Jen in the bridal suite and they were trying to convince her to skip the wedding and start a blog instead. They told her she couldn't really make any money from blogging but blogging would be much more fulfilling than any part of married life.
As I banged on the door to the suite to let her know that if she didn't come out soon and go through with the wedding, I was going to run off with Justin Theroux or possibly Bobby Flay or maybe even the bear, I heard a siren go off in the distance. At first I thought it was a police siren and the fashion police were coming to arrest me for trying to steal Jen's thunder on her wedding day, and also, quite possibly, her fiancé and bear, but then I realized it was the alarm on my clock radio and I woke up.
Shaking off the remnants of this crazy dream, I realized three things:
1. I need to stop reading Perez Hilton before I go to bed.
2. I shouldn't eat andouille sausage before I go to bed.
3. I should probably check with Jennifer Aniston to make sure we don't end up wearing the same dress to her wedding.
Tracy is the author of the book, "Lost in Suburbia: A Momoir. How I Got Pregnant, Lost Myself, and Got My Cool Back in the New jersey Suburbs"