Me Mind on Fire, Me Soul on Fire…..
The world is a little too batshitcrazy over weddings. How many wedding related programs are there on television? Are there more than cupcake programs? Do you know that a reality show is devoted toward the people who work in the bridal salon - The Amsale Girls. I wonder what it’s like to be a Manhattan, elitist bridal consultant. Um, No! In truth, I wonder what it’s like to be the guy who stocks frozen food and meat at the Super Foodtown and must be feeling colder than a witch’s tit 8 hours a day. Or, I wonder what it’s like to be the guy at Auntie’s nursing home who gets called to a “Code Brown” on a daily basis. Give him a show. My only exception to frowning upon wedding and cupcake related programming is Bridezillas. Bring on the crazy! I can’t turn it off in a Maury, Jerry, Montel type of train wreck. In reality, I will not be watching any more Bridezillas since I recently decided to downgrade my cable television package to the Bottom of the Food Chain……….. Basic (like rabbit-ears on the roof). I now have channels 2-13 and am officially boy repellent. As I typed that, my buddy just told me that I am also friend repellent. Moving on……………………….
I have no qualms about any of my social function dates and have loved every, last, flaming gay one of them. Whenever I get the wedding invitation in the mail, it’s a lot like Sophie’s Choice. Humph – that would imply a terrible choice I need to make between two difficult options. Okay, I retract that statement – I choose the Gays. They are available, spoil me rotten, well-dressed, attractive, and at times will, in fact, make-out with me at the end of the night. Actually, there was that one time I went to a wedding (circa 1999) with my biggest crush in the world (straight-dude). I sucked down at least 5 chardonnays by the beginning of dinner (atta girl). And for my first act, I shall flee the reception hall for the sidewalk outside. Why? There was a fire alarm resonating and I was feeling nothing but pity for the poor bride who was having a fire alarm on her wedding day. As if wearing Spanx wasn’t humiliating enough, my date had to retrieve me from the sidewalk and explain that those were actually bagpipes. (enter moan and sigh here). I’ll just leave that story with you folks to marinate…Epic fail….and not the way you want to conduct yourself in front of your crush. Parades and funerals – that is where bagpipes belong – not a wedding reception whereby your guests are good and drunk and might interpret this musical wailing as an emergency crisis situation. Bagpipes insult my ears… People pretend to enjoy bagpipes because it’s the right thing to do. Wilford Brimely said the same thing about eating Quaker oatmeal. I like my oatmeal – original – with my added flavors which include but are not limited to; Designer protein powder, raisins, prunes, flax seed, honey, cinnamon, canned pumpkin, and I have even stirred in fresh turkey chunks. Go ahead, judge me, but the guy from Cocoon, says that oatmeal is cool. And, if you have been keeping in touch with my Facebook postings, you know that I never judge the microwave time suitably;
I have become an expert on serving as a wedding date. Heck- for a period of time – I was feeling like a Mail Order Bride. I have, in fact, added this skill and competency to my resume. I have a cork screw, bobby pin, safety pin, tissue, double-sided tape, and a wad of $1 tip bills in my purse and not afraid to use them. I once went to a wedding (stag) and as usual my buddies joked about my George Glass boyfriend and was asked to host a lady in the bridal party in my hotel room because she flaked out on reserving her own room and needed a place to crash. Any friend of the bride is a friend of mine….that night I spent the night in a King-size bed with a total stranger who left in the morning and dropped $50 cash on the night table. God, I love weddings.
One of my best Seton Hall college buddies, Matt Phelan, invited me to be his wedding date in college. I suppose, at that time, I thought that I ought to sport the Hillary Clinton Goes to a Wedding look (see below). I think Phelan wore his Dads sport coat and I thought that cutting my hair that short was trendy a la There’s Something About Mary.
More than a decade later, Phelan invited me as his wedding date, again. So, to be fair, I’ve included the updated version of Phelan and me in wedding-date mode; however, he can’t ever get it together for the camera. Here is the montage:
I really do love this guy. He and I might be the last standing platonic and nonphysical male-to-female friendship that never ended in any sort of hanky-panky, despite the fact that it looks like he has his tongue in my ear.
From vegetable medley to the People Train – I can’t really decide what I dislike more? I think the People Train reaches on all time low when it becomes the Michaele and Tareq Salahi People Train Party Crasher. “Come on party-people, let’s take this people train into the bar mitzvah next door!” What is it really? Buster Poindexter guiding us all through a drunken human centipede whereby the person in front of you will inevitably be a small child you are tripping over yourself to keep up with and the person behind you is about 7 feet tall and lurking over you like a great big mighty oak tree. I think all these social function dances are toxic – Macarena, Electric Slide, Mambo #5, Chicken Dance, YMCA, Cha-Cha Slide. On that Congo Line – some asshole in the front (wearing a Carmen Miranda hat of fruit) has to get tricky with us drunks and do something like stand-and-step over a chair. Grrrrreattttttttt – let’s hike up our dresses and expose the Wide World of Spanx and give granny one last climb before she croaks. As long as we’re covering wedding music here, I am pretty sure Unchained Melody is about someone in prison – just saying.
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