Wednesday, June 29, 2011

I Do Part I

BON me. BON me now
WARNING:  This is a multi-part story.  I could have edited it down to something more manageable, but that would have denied you countless belly laughs.  And forced me to come up with something else to write about (have I ever mentioned that I love ‘delayed posts?’).  But, for your comfort (and so you don’t open my blog, say “Oh, Christ!” and go read something more cheerful like The Drudge Report), I’ve broken it into several parts (which I think I just said).  You’re welcome.

    I meant to write about my anniversary a few weeks ago. 
    I figured what better way to recognize the fact that an attractive woman has elected to remain with a man given to shouting at squirrels and falling through decks? 
    Of course, I won’t use her real name.  No sense embarrassing her, thus taking the chance of hacking her off.  After all, the woman can dip my little congressman into a jar of Super Glue as I sleep.
    Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, life got in the way.  Between work, soccer tournaments, a “Cop Rock” marathon, visit from Charlie Sheen, and the aforementioned falling through my deck (I’m just kidding.  There wasn’t a soccer tournament), I didn’t get a chance to look back on life 25 years and 25 pounds ago.
    My only real acknowledgement of the occasion was an observation about the “Land of Love” gift shop in the Poconos.  A tale of tee shirts, coffee mugs, back-scratchers made of cheese, frogs-smoking-cigars figurines, and 12 inch dildos that couldn’t possibly be actual size (I hope) just had to do.  Sadly, it would be almost July before I could get to my grand opus (NOTE: Latin for “O Piss.”  I think.).
    So, let us return to those halcyon (NOTE:  I have no clue what that means) days of 1986, a time of Ronald Reagan, Miami Vice, guys in pink shirts, big hair, and a black Michael Jackson.  Who was also alive (too soon?).....
    Cue cheesy waterfall reminiscing effects and harp music......


    Marriage is an institution and I’m one of its inmates.
    From birth, we’re bombarded with the message that we can’t be happy until we get ourselves a smokin’ hot spouse, 2.5 children, dog/cat/bird/fish/ferret/gorilla, house in the “burbs”, two car payments, and a pre-financed funeral.
    Nossir, nothing says success (or kill me now) like decades of a White Picket Fence lifestyle before the sweet release of death.
    The slippery slope starts from the moment you get down on one knee (or lean over in the front seat of your Nissan Sentra if you’re a hopeless romantic like me) to ask the woman of your dreams to make you the happiest guy on the planet.  If you’re lucky, your beloved will mist up, clutch her hand to her heart and, in a faint, trembling voice, whisper softly, “I’d like us to be just friends.”
    On the other hand, if she displays a remarkable lack of judgment (i.e., Mrs. Penwasser), well then, brother, you’ve set the ball rolling.  Get ready for years of a matrimonial Shawshank Redemption.  Good news, though.  You won’t have to sleep with Morgan Freeman.  Or...ick...Timothy Robbins.
    The period between “Will you?” and “I do.” is a giddy one which is pretty much a girls-only affair.  Men are relegated to the background as their fiancée (or is that “fiancé”?  I could never get that straight) commences planning an event which makes the invasion of Normandy look like a backyard barbecue.
    Mostly, guys are expected to:  sit in parking lots of countless bridal shops, decide on the smoked salmon or goat head with mango salsa reception entrée, compose wedding vows (that don’t mention jumbo hooters), feign interest in centerpiece selections, suck up to future in-laws, and try to convince her that nothing says love like cubic zirconium.
    Usually, the man is merely window dressing for the main event.  Right or wrong, all attention is focused on the bride-to-be.  After all, everyone fixates on Beautiful Bride Barbie.  Who really gives a flying crap about Kooky Cantankerous Ken?


To be continued.....
Next: Rehearsal dinner, Denny's, and Rock, Scissors, Paper. 








I know this has absolutely NOTHING to do with the post above, but nothing says "party" like a little weiner.



14 comments:

  1. Oh my God, Al, I'm so freakin' glad I found you! You are the funniest guy I've met in many years. You're wife is a lucky woman.

    ReplyDelete
  2. al, let's just be friends.

    this is a cracker barrel of monkeys. the ones who fling turd.

    ReplyDelete
  3. that means it's great entertaining fun.

    ReplyDelete
  4. You had me at your "little congressman". Oh! That doesn't sound right! I don't mean...um...you know...not that I...Oh! Whatever!

    ReplyDelete
  5. @Nancy: Thanks! She feels she won the lottery's biggest booby prize.
    @OT: It's not a classic work of art (especially since my name isn't 'Art'), but it's how I roll.
    @Violet: I'm a connoisseur of the "Monkey Flings Poo" genre.
    @Kara: For that and much more, I have Anthony Weiner to thank. The U.S. Congress: Expanding our lexicon, one word at a time!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Your little congressman? I feel ill.

    ReplyDelete
  7. You always make me laugh. thanks for that!

    ReplyDelete
  8. This was pretty damn funny and oh so true. Thanks for the laugh. Can't wait for more.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Good stuff. I am beginning to think I missed all the fun by going to the courthouse.

    ReplyDelete
  10. What the hell DOES halcyon mean?
    You are hilarious.
    Can we jusr be friends? ;)

    ReplyDelete
  11. There's a lot of pressure to join average.
    "White picket fence"? Sounds like the title of a horror movie.

    ReplyDelete
  12. have I ever mentioned that I love ‘delayed posts?’

    You are not kidding, I'm still waiting for your final entry posting....

    When I proposed to Mrs B she just burst into tears (I still don't know if it is because I had kept her waiting 10 years or that I was her only offer) ....I'm not sure she actualy ever said yes...So technicaly the last 17 yearsof our marriage may or may not be a sham....

    ReplyDelete
  13. @Tony: I know. I hate it when he goes into recess. But, pocket vetos are fun.
    @Eva: You've been looking at my picture again, haven't you?
    @Barb: I hope you recognize many of trappings of the reception as being true, too. I wish I could find some pix of me in that damn white tux. Sadly, 1986 was before the Advent (a multi-purpose word, 'advent' is also used around Christmas) of digital cameras.
    @Ruth: You may think twice when you read about the reception. Bottom line: much more fun being invited TO the reception than being the reason for HAVING a reception.
    @Dawn: Halcyon: (n) A bird said to have the power of calming waves during the winter solstice. A frikkin' bird!!!!????? Oh, it also means "peaceful and prosperous." Crap.. Why didn't I just say "peaceful and prosperous?" I'm such a twit.
    @AC: Yeah, just look at "The Stepford Wives"
    @BL: Mrs. Penwasser said, "Can I have some time to think about it?" I'm thinking she wasn't digging the darkened Nissan Sentra proposal. Hey, I just bought her dinner! What was she expecting?

    ReplyDelete