Recently I was stricken with horror while opening my mail. Hidden beneath the countless credit card offers and Publisher’s Clearing House notices was a vile little entity commonly referred to as a wedding invitation. Now, I hate weddings, not for the sappiness factor but for the socializing factor. I do not like people. In fact, I am better than most people, and to lower myself to speak to some common folk about career choices, etc. pains me like the bite of a thousand fire ants. However, this was a wedding invitation for a family member so I figured I would suffer. I am a great blood relative.
So last Saturday I drove two hours to attend something that I detest. Did I mention I am the Mother Teresa of blood relatives? I liken weddings to seeing Rosie O’ Donnell decked in dominatrix gear in that horrendous film Exit to
Once I arrived, I surveyed the land, taking a precise inventory of the obstacles known as “talkers” to avoid. After a few minutes I migrate to my own kind, just as any species would do in the wild, I sat down with my parents. I figured they already knew that I am an antisocial asshole so they wouldn’t grate my nerves. Oh ! I forgot to mention this wedding was outside in 90-degree heat. That anomaly impaired my normally uncanny keen sense for avoiding “talkers.” Soon I noticed a stranger sitting next to me…and he drew blood, he spoke.
It happened to be my uncle’s brother. At that point, the only thing I could think about was “I wonder if this is the one with the “life-partner” at home?” I have no idea what he was saying to me, I was focused on the high pitch in his voice, and you know what, he could be the one with the “life-partner” at home. The traditional “here’s the rope, put it to good use” wedding music interrupted me before I found out for sure. Later in the day I saw my uncle’s other brother…he definitely is the one with the “life-partner.”
It became obvious to me as the ceremony started that the preacher was a little odd. At this point, I had no hard evidence to back up my hypothesis. That soon would change. After the initial prayer, the preacher informed the audience that for the next ten minutes he was going to speak directly to the bride and groom and that we as witnesses could just enjoy being voyeurs. Then it hit me, the preacher looked like one of those guys that liked to get his ass whooped by Rosie O dressed in dominatrix attire. I started picturing him sporting gimp gear…I laughed…my mother gave me “the look.”
Then I became pissed not because I got “the look” after 30 some years I am immune to “the look.” I was pissed because this man was wasting my valuable time telling these two people things he should have told them in private weeks ago. An attention whore preacher is only funny if he is farting on you tube. He proceeds to inform the groom that from this point forward, he will pretty much be her slave, he will take the trash out, he will do this, he will do that, etc. After a depressing five minutes that seemed the equivalent of a list of choirs, he was finished with the groom. It was the bride’s turn…it took fifteen seconds, he told her to be the groom’s friend. I heard laughter behind me, turning around I noticed the preacher’s wife actually breastfeeding a baby. It figures.
After his less than successful audition for The Last Comic Standing, the preacher finally got to the nitty gritty of the ceremony. He started by saying, “These two are taking a huge risk rolling the dice, most marriages today end in divorce.” Fuck positive reinforcement I say! He then went on to tell the lovebirds that the only way to have a happy, blooming marriage was to have God in the middle. What? Preacher man seemed to suggest that threesomes with God were the ‘in” thing. I’m pretty sure this breaks a commandment. On the other hand it does explain why people scream out “Oh God” when they cum.
The rest of the ceremony was pretty much the standard do you take blah, blah, blah…I really didn’t pay attention because the entire time I was coming up with God and threesome jokes in my head. Then, I felt something hit my leg, I looked down to discover a huge glob of green bird shit on my pants. See this is way you do not have weddings outside; birds have the couth of
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