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Four Funerals and a Wedding
9.2.2002 by , every Monday.
I've been getting some very interesting mail lately.
You see, one of my best friends is getting married. Oh, I tried to talk him out of it, but he kept going on about how he “loves her” and stuff. Whatever.
So now, I'm getting all these tiny envelopes in the mail. The outside is always a pastel color, the kind with such names as “lavender,” “chamomile,” and ”chutzpah.” Inside, one finds dainty little cards, printed in scented lace paper, that says things like ”Mr. And Mrs. J Arthur Wellington XIV Humbly Request Your Attendance At A Special Rehearsal Event Dinner Shower To Commemorate The Impending Marriage Of Their Daughter, Muffitrina, To Mr. Moammar Zatooie, Of No Known Pedigree.” I find these a bit intimidating, because I just KNOW they'll want me to wear something nicer than my “Def Leppard” T-Shirt. Elitists. So I'll probably have to pull out one of my special dress “Budweiser” T-Shirts. Maybe the one with the girl in the thong. Thongs are classy.
Anyway, he convinced me, at gunpoint, to be a groomsman in his wedding. I normally tend to be miffed at people who resort to the use of firearms to compel me to attend social events, but I felt sorry for my friend, what with the facial tic, and that unique gleam of madness to his eye that only the truly damned and the truly engaged seem to have. And yes, there is a difference between the two, though in some cases it's only that eternal damnation is cheaper and seems to go by much more quickly.
But there's a lot of work to throwing a good wedding. Aside from the kegs, the couple (read: bride) must choose things like a dress, the proper curtains to make into bridesmaid's gowns, a tablecloth for the reception, a centerpiece, a cake, a band, music for the band to play, a candelabra, a colander, a salamander, a cameraman, a gaffer, a best boy, a folder of the linens, a Secretary of Bouquet Tossing, an Official Pro Wrestler, a Ninja Assassin, as well as register a china pattern, notify CNN, hire a security guard to watch Uncle Louie, bring the horses in from the fields, rent a hang-glider, and re-grout the bathroom tile. Strippers may be acceptable if they can perform tastefully.
So as you can see, there's a lot weighing upon the happy couple, even without me making clumsy passes at the bridesmaids:
Bridesmaid #1: “I'm married.”
Bridesmaid #2: “I'm gay.”
Bridesmaid #3: “I'm married and gay.”
Bridesmaid #4: “I'm the flower girl, you creepy man.” (kicks me in the shins)
This wedding promises to be quite interesting, as this couple met due to, I swear this is true, their mutual love of NASCAR. I can only hope that they work this into the theme:
Minister: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today at the Daytona 500 to -
Stock Cars: RRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!
Everyone: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to get a crash helmet.
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