Chris Erskine: May their marriage outshine this toast

AND I THOUGHT last week's party for 80 teenagers was bad (it was). Now I'm hosting a party for 30 adults. Each week, the celebrations get smaller, more polished, more demanding.

"Did you get the ice?" Posh asks.

"Check."

"Is the music ready to go?"

"Check."

Lately, Posh has been treating me like her personal assistant. I find it sort of thrilling. For the longest time, she treated me like a husband. I don't have to tell you how unpleasant that can be.

"Did you get firewood?" Posh asks.

"Check."

"Citronella oil?"

"Check."

"Did you open some wine?"

Oops. I've been putting off opening the wine. I hate our corkscrew. Like some of the things you get at Brookstone, the gigantic chrome corkscrew doesn't work all that well. I have rarely used it without difficulty.

Ever seen one of these screwy corkscrews? First, it's huge and doesn't really fit in a kitchen drawer. Second, it looks like a dental tool from the 17th century, full of gears and ratchets and an auger. The Germans once used these for root canals. Tim Conway used one to extract Harvey Korman's tongue.

So, as the first guests filter in, I line up the first bottle. Clunk. The auger doesn't drill down like it should. It pushes the cork into the bottle, which is not really the best place for a cork. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer it when the corkscrew removes the cork.

Second bottle. Clunk.

"Let me do that," says an exasperated Posh, whose nephew almost went to MIT. That's how mechanical she is.

"It's not that hard," she insists.

Posh takes the corkscrew. Clunk. The cork not only goes into the bottle, it gushers the red wine out of the bottle and all over Posh and one of our guests, a nice gentleman whose name escapes me. I know he was important because no one laughed. Me, not a drop on my shirt or pants, which just makes matters worse.

"Oops," I say.

Posh says nothing. Pinot Noir drips from her roofline and her pretty chin. There are Pinot Noir freckles all over her favorite white blouse. As guests walk in, she looks as if she has been marinating herself in red wine.