Gabrielle Union announced her engagement to Dwyane Wade late last year with a GIGANTIC ring. Now the circle is complete, and the pair married on Saturday morning in Miami in front of friends and family.
John Legend performed at the ceremony, and the bride wore a romantic Dennis Basso gown and requested that guests wear formal white. Wade wore customized Dsquared2, his personally designed Wedding Collection bowtie from The Tie Bar and a boutonniére by Floral Fix. This is the second marriage for both Wade and Union.
The couple set up a 1930s era juke joint for party guests, serving Vanilla Puddin’ Chardonnay as the official white wine for the wedding.
What the hell is Vanilla Puddin’ Chardonnay? Do I even want to know? I’m not sure. But these two are a cute couple and I hope it lasts for them. Also, how the FUCK is Gabrielle Union 41 years old? She looks younger than me!
I can’t help it, I love Will Smith. I know he can be kind of an asshole sometimes, but I grew up with the Fresh Prince, and I can’t not like him. Also, I just recently saw Seven Pounds for the first time, and my feelings for Will Smith are so very strong right now.
Also, he did some freestyling, he did “Summertime” again and, of course, a bit of the Fresh Prince song at Gabrielle Union‘s birthday party. This is great for a couple of reasons. One, I just think he’s adorable, and it’s nice to see him having fun and bringing back such a great, wonderful thing. Two, it gives me an excuse to talk about Gabrielle Union, who I LOVE. Or, ok, I don’t really love her – I don’t really know anything about her – but I’ve always thought she was one of the most gorgeous ladies in the game. Just look at her:
I love the Kentucky Derby–not because of the horse racing. I could give a crap about horse racing– although I do love to hear Nancy O’Dell talk about how she chooses what horse to bet on based on how nice its ass is.
Equestrian junk-in-the-trunk aside, I love the Kentucky derby because it makes obscenely rich (and moderately famous) people put ridiculous things on their heads and stroll around for photo ops because, well, that’s just what one does on Derby Day. It’s the rich and famous version of peer pressure at its worst, and I love every minute of it.
Take a stroll through the photo gallery. You’ll find yourself asking questions like: Did a can of silly string explode on Lynn Whitfield’s head? Does Bobby Flay ever NOT look like a total prick? If I jump on Brooke Shields’ head, will I get an extra life?
In case you were wondering, a tiny, screaming, weeping, Creole lunatic riding a horse called “Mine That Bird” won the race today. God, I love the derby.