Yesterday in Beverly Hills, Marky Mark married the mama je’e of his three chirruns, Rhea Durham, in a Catholic ceremony at the Good Shephard Church. Actually, since it was a Catholic ceremony they were probably named “husband & wife” only a few minutes ago. Catholic weddings go on for eoooooons. Every time I go to one, I’m told to bring a few granola bars for sustenance, a sleeping bag, a copy of War & Peace, a catheter and a shot of adrenaline to wake me up for the last couple of minutes.
Marky and Rhea got married in front of about 20 guests. Rhea wore a nightgown by Marchesa and Marky wore a bitchface. Marky and Rhea’s 5-year-old daughter Ella was the flower girl. Now, I know some of your asses might be wondering how they could get married in a Catholic church if they already have three kids, but that doesn’t matter! The greatest Catholic wedding I ever went to was the one where the bride (I’m not naming names) wore white with a veil and was about 6-months knocked up. As she walked down the aisle of the Catholic church with the priest staring at her baby bulge, I nearly bit my tongue off to keep from laughing. It was amazing. I skipped the open beer bar at the reception, because I was already drunk from the irony of it all. Simply beautiful.
Anyway, I hope Marky reunited with the Funky Bunch to perform at the reception. You know everyone who went was only there for the free booze, the cake and to see Marky bust his wedded ass to “Good Vibrations.”