The Gift of Alaris
Last Saturday night I had the pleasure of marrying Kara Taylor and Tyson Clingan.
They're a remarkable couple. They met at a time when Blockbuster Video was still a viable business model, and their fondness for one another hasn't diminished since.
Tys is the guy all girls in relationships have a secret Year 7 crush on. You can see why. He has a caring and genial nature, but when a beer needs to be drunk and a shirt needs to be taken off in the middle of a pub, T- Bone is your number one draft pick.
Kara is all heart down to the core. His sister would say she has a massive 'gorg factor'. You're darn tootin' she does, Mel Taylor. Congrats on not getting overly hammered before speeches too, MT.
As I was saying, Kaz is a gal you'd list as your emergency contact. She has a kindness that is never forced, and it always comes from a beautiful place. A stunning human.
To say the weather for their ceremony was horrendous is, well, a horrendous understatement. Shit was apocalyptic. Biblical. A few times I squinted through the pouring rain and could see Noah's Ark sailing off into the distance. I waved a few times but Noah just shot back the bird.
The weather was never going to stop this crew. Jesus, Mary and Josephine these folks can party. I know first hand having spent a few music festivals with them. They make Ben Cousins look like a boy scout from Ferntree Gully.
The ceremony itself was so 'Tyara' (that doesn't work does it). The Bullarto Hall was decked out gloriously and punctuated by the greatest party accessory of all; fairylights.
Man I dig fairylights. How's their vibes? So gorg.
It was a loose, casual, enjoyable fare. The crowd was tipsy before any liquor touched their tongue. In comedy land they're called a warm crowd. In reality they're boisturous and sexy.
I'm sure they had a ripping night, especially with 'it' couple of 2013 through 2015 Jemma 'Jem Jams' Peiper and Nathan 'Rowdy Roddy' Peiper leading the charge.
I must confess to leaving a touch early as I was feeling a bit under the weather. This is the part of the blog where things get a bit graphic, so if you don't wanna know the score, look away now (cue Diesel: Right on the Tip of my Tongue).
I'm writing this while snuggled up to my new special friend, Alaris. Alaris and I become very close since we met in ER four days ago. I didn't like her initially, but like an old Chevy I've depended on her to get by.
Alaris - full name Alaris Pump Model 8100 - has fed me the essential electrolytes and antibiotics while I have been vomiting brine and pooing blood all over my hospital bedsheets (glad you read on?).
A special thanks to the lady who sold me a half-cooked egg and bacon roll last week. I know you probably didn't mean to give me Salmonella, but I still hope a crocodile eats all your shoes and your kids never achieve their dreams.
Alaris and I.
You know that Simpsons episide where Bart swallows a jagged metal-o in his Krusty cereal? It's like that. Every fifteen minutes. Every hour. All day.
It has been a yuck 72 hours. I can't recall seeing this much blood. And I sat through Rambo IV.
But in a way I'm glad it occurred. It's allowed me to properly appreciate the practicality of an adult diper, the phenomenal work of the crew at St Vincent's, and how fortunate I am to know - let alone marry - the two rare, beautiful, heartfelt people that are Kaz and Tys.
Good luck with everything guys. You're the bloody best.
Lots of love and happy poos,
Paul Bonadio – a Stand-up Celebrant
0417 502 921