Tuesday, January 09, 2007

A Few Reasons why I stopped getting invited to Weddings..

This is going to sound silly coming from a 33 year old boy with a penchant for violence, insensitivity based on my fear of post coital snuggling, and my habit of wiping my genitals on a woman's curtains after sexual relations, but I'm a guy who has thought about his wedding day for as long as I can remember. Sure the daydream has evolved as I've matured, what once was a gala affair in my head where me and my wife would be treated like royalty, with rose pedals being thrown at our feet and being ushered off in horse and carriage, somehow it turned into a marriage ceremony dedicated to Hip Hop. It wouldn't be like a Star Wars theme wedding type of thing where I would make my mother and Aunt's wear shell-toe Adidas and fedora's and shit, and me and my wife wouldn't be doing "The Wop" down the isle or anything, but you bet your sweet ass that I'd be brought out to M.O.P's "Downtown Swinga" and get married by Rev-Run himself. Not for nothing, but I always imagined that my bride and I would freestyle battle each other over who loves each other the most, I'm sure such a touching sentiment would provoke tears from family and friends alike, until I mentioned how I love her deep-throat abilities and how how she laughed like a school girl when I was sodomizing her, stopped, and said "What is that, corn??" I guess a fella can dream can't he, but it seems that dreaming is as close as I'm going to get to wedded bliss based on my insufferable prick status, my unimpressive penis, and my troublesome behavior that once forced a young priest to call me a "cock sucking motherfucker" during a pick-up game just because I told him that his breath smelled like the nuts of little boys.(Also, when a young man that he was talking to said "Keep in touch" while walking off, I turned to the priest in question and said "Don't get a chubby, he didn't mean "Keep in touch" literally, you sick fuck!!")

That being said, because I've embraced the fact that the winter of my life will be spent with a shitload of cats, assault charges stemmed from smacking dudes in the mouth because of their bad Hip Hop tastes, and shortchanging prostitutes by giving them 5 dollars in change after sex and saying shit like "Don't spend it all in the same place sugar-tits!!" before ushering her out of my house, I have to live vicariously through my friends when they get married. The problem is, last week I was told by the future wife of a good friend of mine that I've been uninvited to their wedding based on the stories she's heard of my past behavior. Being uninvited to a wedding is nothing new to me, I'd probably be the record holder if their was indeed a record for such things(along with masturbation, public urination, and punching people in the throat), but I thought that I have been on my best behavior as of late so I didn't really understand her concern. That was when, like James Lipton on "Inside the Actors Studio" when he hits an actor with a fact about his/her life that they thought only they knew, she proceeded to tell me some of the horrendous things I have done at weddings over the last 15 years.

Beef with the DJ: When it comes to music, or anything having to do with pop culture that is, I'm the biggest snob this side of the equator. Whether I respect you or think you are a watery stool sample depends on your tastes in music, especially Hip Hop. Unfortunately at wedding receptions I have had a few violent run-ins with DJ's that I'm none too proud of. Like the one time I threatened a young man's life if he played "The Electric Slide" one more time, the incident where I chopped a wanna-be turntablist in the throat and took over his DJ-ing duties simply because he attempted to play a "Color Me Badd" record, or the all out fistfight that I got into after one wedding when some horrible DJ refused my request to spin O.C's "Times Up".

Acting like I lost the ring: In the "I guess I'm the only one who that finds this funny" department, a few times that some poor bastard made the disastrous choice of making me his best man, I took it upon myself to act as if I had lost the ring. I'd search my pockets at a feverish pace, give the married couple to be the kind of deer in headlights look a person flashes before they get flattened like a pancake by an oncoming Semi, and right before the crowd is about to go completely ape-shit and ask for my head on a platter I perform the only magic trick that I know and act like the ring in question was behind the flower girl's ear the whole time. Let me say this again, it seems that I'm the only person on planet earth who thinks this is funny.

I was biblical with the Maid of Honor, in a church:
I'm the kind of guy that a girl has to get accustomed to embracing, the same way an amputee accepts the fact that they are missing a limb and shit, so when a chick immediately wants to see me naked I'm just as surprised as anyone. Anyways, the maid of honor was some black goth chick who was giving me the sexy eye all day, and even though I'm a good catholic boy I had visions of me and her fucking in a vat of blood with a Marilyn Manson record playing in the background, but since my self esteem is lower than midget blow-jobs I just figured I was misinterpreting her glares as her wanting to get a good look at the guy she heard cums faster than express mail. Apparently I wasn't, because during the reception she grabbed me and said, "I want to fuck the shit out of you, now!!" and I was down, primarily because I'm a perv and I'm the type of arrogant prick who has condoms on him at all times, but I was wondering where in fact we would do the deed. That's when she pulled me into the church adjacent to the reception and got on her knees, but you can bet your sweet ass it wasn't for communion baby. Anyway, as I blessed her body the best way a man could who had never set foot in a seminary school, the bride and her mother rushed to where we were at screaming, eagerly trying to get us to stop doing what we were doing. I was at a crossroads, because on one end all I heard was "Stop!!", "Get off of her", and "You are in a church motherfucker!!", and the black goth chick that I was clumsily gyrating my hips on top of begged me to keep going. Suffice it to say, I finished.

Relieving myself in the woods: At this one wedding reception there was an extremely long line to get into the bathroom and I had to go #2 something fierce. Trifling I know, but I took as many napkins as I could and went into the wooden area beside the reception hall to participate in the best weight loss plan this side of crack addiction. I just knew that I was alone, unloading my digestive storage unit as I screamed out the lords name like I was climaxing or something, that's when I looked over and saw the grandmother of the bride smoking a cigarette, then eventually turning her head watching me in complete horror. She was sickened, shaking her head while retreating back to the reception, and all I could think to say based on my extremely bushy beard was "Hey Grandma, I guess you know the answer when somebody asks you if a bear shits in the woods or not!!"

Very inappropriate toasts: Sure I've given some tasteless toasts, like the time I mentioned the Chlamydia my friend got on Spring Break one year, all the "fine pussy" that would be passed up because of one friends marriage, and my surprised that one friend was marrying the girl that he did since he once regarded her as "Practice Vagina", but nothing is worse than the one I gave last year. I was giving a toast at my boy David's wedding, I wasn't drunk so I just knew there was no way of screwing that up, and a rant that was for the most part very sweet turned into something horrific and borderline racist. See, I was going into detail how me and Dave were always there for each other and how he was a good friend when my old man died, I unfortunately recounted how I was there during a very nasty break-up of his and how it was funny when I told him the following: "Listen dude, there are more fish in the sea and you will find someone in no time. Plus, look on the bright side, as long as there are fat white girls in existence you will never go lonely!!" My toast didn't go over to good because his wife is, well, is a very "healthy" Caucasian woman.

1 comment:

Lola Gets said...

I stil lget invitations to weddings (and other events), but I always request Clarence Carter's "Strokin'!" just for giggles. Sometimes the DJ refuses to play it, sometimes he does, and only 1 or 2 people dance to it. I never dance to that song, but I like to see what happens when I ask for it!