Huff and Puff or Whiffenpoof?

# Hours Awake - 14
# Cups of Coffee - 1 & 1/2
# Of differnt Blog attempts - 7

Been sitting here for a while trying to decide what to write about. Finally came up with this and if you're reading this, it looks like it won. So here's the question I got: Who names the hurricanes? We live in a democratic society so I'm sure that there's something like a group consensus (um, sure) but there has to be one person, probably with an eye patch and a pegleg, who says "yeah, go with it." But here's the thing, up until recently, hurricanes always had names that evoked fear in trailer parks everywhere. But, "Hurricane Charlie?" What the hell? Was there a changing of the guard recently? We're still waiting until the final polling results are in but Fox News can now safely report that a person named "Charlie" has a 90% greater chance of getting a "Swirlie" in high school than any other male name.

Whose call was this? Shit, even Bertha (the fat, smart girl in the front left desk in algebra 2)* evokes more fear than Charlie. I mean, in the world of Hurricanes, Phillip, Gloria, Andrew, all of these scream fire and brimstone but Charlie? Charlie screams a silent fart in an open field with a gentle breeze going the other direction. Imagine if this person was in charge of propaganda during WWI or WWII. Probably the same guy who came up with farfegnugen. All I'm saying is if your going to get your ass kicked, wouldn't you rather it was by Carl Dorn than by Dickie Thornhipe III?


*On a side note, Bertha is currently the majority owner of Mattel Inc. and spends most of her time choosing which of her Greek love slaves will be her sex toy for the evening.

Owie!

# Hours awake - 5
# Cups of coffee - 1
# Strawberry mimosas - 6

There were several different ways I wanted to start this one off (this being another one) so I decided to use them all. First of all, because of the jump in readership by 200%, I now actually have to start writing this on a regular basis. Bastards! Secondly, I want to say “Good Lord.” “Good Lord” is how I refer to an event that has taken everything out of me and left me a shell; a façade if you will; the remnants of what was once a person…me. Those two little words sum up the effect of the last coupld of days. Thirdly, AWWWWWWWWWW; my head is friggin killing me. I took the 10AM start time for the after wedding brunch literally and there I was, third to enter the door, head splitting in two. The strawberry mimosas helped but not completely. So now my head hurts and I'm tipsy… and it's 2 in the afternoon. Yeah. (notice the lack of an exclamation point).

So, the wedding. Weddings are weddings, for the most part. There's a bride, a groom and a couple of people flanking them in dresses they'll never wear again. The wedding was nice and the reception was nice as well. I find it hard to write about weddings because I always feel my sense of humor is in bad taste. I also realized a problem with writing a blog about people who read it – it really limits the amount of things you can write; that is assuming you want to stay friends with these people and for arguments sake, lets say that you do. I can give you some basic details however which I think will limit the reader to lost friend ratio.

Like Toyota and Honda before them, the parents created a hybrid of sorts: this one between Judaism and Protestantism. We had a little bit of everything without getting overly secular. I was kind of excited to see if the Rabi and Priest would get progressively louder, trying to over shadow the other until they both just flipped out and it turned into a religious battle-royal. Alas, they did not and the ceremony went smoothly as visions of cage matches and pile drivers danced in my head. God what I would have given for the Rabi to jump up on top of the Hopa (sp?), put his hand to is ear and ask the guests if they could smell what he was cooking.

There wasn’t a single fight. Not even one for the bouquet where you usually get some ripping or a black eye or two. Nope, just two people getting married, nice speeches, good food and plenty of booze. The morning after brunch was hard on us all but we survived if for no other reason than the collective happiness we all shared in being part of the event.

So to the Bride and Groom; good luck, much love and remember, if you ever find yourself in a bridal store in Marina del Rey, you are now Mr. and Mrs. Prince of Morocco.

Wedding LA Style

# Hours awake - 1
# Cups of coffee - 0
# Minutes till lunch with Dad - 24 (Shit, I gotta go)

If you’re familiar with the last wedding, this one is gonna be just a tad different. First of all, it was black tie so that begins my first hurdle.

I don’t own a tux. I think it’s for obvious reasons but the fact of the matter is I don’t and in the rare instance I have to wear one, I have to rent one. I know I’m not actually renting another man’s clothes and there isn’t some kind of donor program for tux owners who’ve fallen on hard times but it still feels kind of dirty for me. To limit the “owner factor,” I decide to go to the Men’s Warehouse, figuring they’ll do me right.

I sashay up to the rental area and explain that I need to rent a tux for Saturday. Seriously, I thought I saw him look around the room for a camera as though at any second I was going to start laughing and inform him he was on a clothing oriented candid camera. His next look was one of either relief or pity; I’m still not sure. “Sir, we need at least a week for that…(off my stare and just to rub it in)…AT LEAST A WEEK. That’s when panic started to settle in.

“What the hell?” I thought. It’s fucking Monday, I thought I was getting a jump on this. What, are they going out back to shear the sheep right now so they can form the wool just in time for the wedding? It’s not like you’re fixing a torn rotator cuff, this is fabric we’re talking about.

It’s right about now that I realize I’m still in the store and even though I didn’t say any of that out loud, I have been staring at the guy for however long it took for me to think it all. Now, he’s looking kind of freaked out. I think it’s best I leave. But, as I go, the guy he was waiting on mentions that there’s a wedding store across the parking lot and they might be able to hook me up. Ok, I think, maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and I’m not going to have to wear a powder blue, Velcro, sequin Tuxedo that I got from the costume shop. While the groom might think it was funny, I’m pretty sure no one else would. Did I mention the wedding is at the Beverly Hills Hotel? This will be of interest in a second.

So I walk across the parking lot while pondering what my options are going to be if this store doesn’t rent tuxedos; can’t go with the power blue…..suit?…no…leave the country?….hmmmm.

My thoughts were interrupted by the flashing neon lights of Maggie’s Bridal & Tuxedo; a vision in the fading light…could salvation lay within? Turns out it could. Maggie calms my nerves by saying that they could definitely have the suit for me by Thursday at latest. “Wait”, I think, “you mean this Thursday, right?” “Yeah, of course sweetie” she responds. I’m feeling better… for a while at least.

I’m not sure why exactly; maybe it was the lack of coffee or recent brush with the possibility of tuxedolessness, I’m not sure but for some reason I make a booboo. I mention that the wedding is at the Beverly Hills hotel and all three of the employees seem to appear out of nowhere and bombard me with questions. I’m pretty sure it was Maggie who inquired rather jokingly if the groom was the prince of Tunisia. I’m really sure it was me who responded, “No, Morocco.” Wait, what?!?!? I didn’t just say that did I? Oh shit, by the look on their faces I’m fairly certain that I did. For some reason, it came out of my mouth in such a way that I couldn’t say, “No, just kidding.ha..ha..ha, he, um he, he. They would not be amused. God no one has a sense of humor in this town. So I went the other route.

Within seconds, I was no longer the blogger who types before you but rather one of the Prince of Morocco’s most trusted friends. We met at boarding school in Switzerland and ended up at Yale together. God he’s such a card. Ha, ha, ha. At this point, I was legally not responsible for anything coming out of my mouth. My id had completely taken over and I was sitting in the back seat enjoying a cup of tea wondering how it had gone this far. I finally came back to reality 30 minutes later in my car on the way home. Now I have to figure out not only what to write about the wedding but I also have to come up with an alternate reality for the girls at the Tux shop. Moral of the story: Never rent a tux with less than .08 BCC (Blood Caffeine Content)

More to come including (but not limited to) The Rehearsal Dinner, The Wedding, and The Brunch. Did I mention that the Dad is in town? Thank God he’s not in charge of the catering.

Blog UPDATE!!!

# Hours Awake - 2
# Cups of coffee - 0
# Of time the "my computer is broken" excuse has worked in response to why I haven't updated the blog - 0

A certain someone has been nagging me to update the blog for the last couple of weeks. I sat down last night to try and force something out when it occured to me that this certain someone was getting married this weekend.

Be careful what you wish for, I've written about weddings before.

-S

I will of course be updating on Sunday.