I’m lost in my words, I don’t know where I’m going

Back in the Lou, in, if not full, then at least partial effect.

So tired. This may be a short one.

The break is over. Reality descends upon me once again, like filthy water out of a clogged toilet. How can I still be so far behind? I can’t wait for finals week, when I can relax and just study for 9 hours a day. It’ll be a respite.

Fuck that, no more words on that topic. Negativity is so 1997.

Went to a friend’s wedding today…

That has a horrific ring to it, like “Went to my mother’s arraignment today.”, “Went back to Rite-Aid for more suppositories today.”, “Went to Jack in the Box and somebody pooped in my eggrolls today.” That kind of ring.

Went to a friend’s wedding today…

Surprisingly, it wasn’t atrocious. Not atrocious at all.

Although the entire matrimonial concept is still abhorrent to me, the event in and of itself, which is just essentially a fancy party with weird rituals and somebody else picking up the tab, was quite a ‘hoot’. I saw friends I haven’t seen in years, girls who I knew as squeaky-voiced, knobby-kneed, cootie-ridden children that now, much to my chagrin, look damn good in a red bridesmaid’s dress. Our friends, it seems, have aged well. I can only hope they think the same of me. Being “That kid who used to wear flannel shirts, sweatpants, and thick glasses.” is not such a terrible fate, but being “That kid who used to wear flannel shirts, sweatpants, and thick glasses at his peak, in seventh grade” seems a terrible fate.

On a related note, we were instructed to sit at the “Troublemaker’s Table”, table 15, which turned out not to be so much a troublemaker’s table as a god damn filthy nerd table. The bride’s parents, they know us too well. Quarantined in one corner of the room, the bride’s brother, a couple other friends, and I talked about all manner of unmentionably geeky shit interspersed with trips to the buffet, clapping for various speeches, and dancing with the bride. I was forced to leave early, to make the horribly repetitive and traffic-snarled trek down from the bay area to the lou, and for the first time since the dawn of history, I was unhappy to leave a wedding early. Strange days indeed, friends.

The whole wedding was a tasteful affair, with a sense of humor and none of the religious servility I’ve come to know and loathe from my own family’s weddings. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think Jesus was even invited. I certainly didn’t see him on the guest list. Without him around, the ceremonies were brief, pleasant, quick, classy, and over in a hurry. And fast. I can remember weddings from my youth, endless, horrible hours spent cramped and sweating in the pews of a Baptist church listening to some white dude yap about God. Shut up, just do the vows and bring out the wine, you verbose zealous fuck. Those Christians, they’re like god damn Amway people. Any excuse to bring up their schtick and grind away at you with it, whether it’s a wedding, a funeral, a bus ride… I don’t want into your pyramid scheme, whether it can earn me $45,000 a week or save my eternal soul.

Little sidetracked there, sorry.

Note: If you live on the Central Coast, or liked Lost in Translation, or any combination thereof, go check out the movie Sideways. It’s damn funny, in a depressing, old-people sort of way, but I liked it.

In a way, it’s almost a shame that I won’t be in a wedding. Given the opportunity and a suitably open-minded fiancee, I’m sure I could plan some sort of uber-awesome LAN party dance-a-thon rock concert wedding reception. How much you think it’d cost to get Tower of Power to play a wedding? or to rent out the entirety of Golden Gate Park? Where can I buy Silly String and Olde English in bulk? It’d be like Waynestock, but with tuxedos, paintball guns, and gangster rap.

Nevermind.

I’ll just have to enjoy myself at others’ weddings instead. I can see it now, with each passing year and each friend that slips into the abyss of nuptual slavery, I’ll get a little more hammered at the reception, give a little bit more offensive and embittered speech, and get kicked out a little earlier. That’s what life is all about, kids, it’s not about staying in school, or falling in love, or even running for public office. It’s about getting wasted on somebody else’s dollar and making an ass of yourself in front of your loved ones. It’s about doing whatever you need to to get dirty looks from the old folks and tears from the children. It’s about making sure you don’t get invited to any more weddings. And then showing up anyway, to repeat the process.

Goals, kids, life is about goals. And waking up in a dumpster three days later with arterial blood, ash, and salmon chutney smeared all over your rented tux.

Props to those involved with today’s festivities, however. Charm, amiability, and good food earned you clemency from my wedding shenanigans. The rest of you fucks would do well to emulate them.

Time to crash.

Much love, kids, from me:

Your ice cold host and immorality facilitator,

-T.

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