Monday, May 30, 2005

he's related to you, he's related to you... he is dying to meet you

Portions of this blog post may contain content or language that is indecent, obscene, insensitive, or irrational. Reader Discretion is advised.

I went to a wedding with Karen yesterday. It was kind of unusual because it was in a theatre rather than a church or an outdoor setting. I actually thought for a second that I had misunderstood the invitation, and I was being taken to a play about a wedding. Or that it was an elaborate ruse on all of us, and it wasn't a wedding at all. The reception was in the same building, so we didn't even have to take ten steps to get to the beer. Dinner followed. It was pretty good. It didn't even occur to me until I ate all of it that all of it was vegetarian. Except for the grouper. I enjoyed it.
This was one of those situations where I didn't know anyone involved with the wedding, and I only knew a few of the guests. I had plenty of people I could talk to, so is wasn't overly uncomfortable or anything like that, but it's just strange to be there as someone outside that circle. I had a good time, though. Except for one thing. As many of you dear and loyal readers know, I don't do the "dancing" thing. I just don't. It isn't that I'm morally or ethically opposed to it, or anything like that. I just don't dance. Not at weddings, not at bat mitzvahs, not when I'm a contestant on Solid Gold, not in a box, not with a fox. I do not like dancing. Somehow, though, at functions like that, you may has well say that you like to strangle puppies and drown kitty cats as say that you don't like dancing. You get treated like a fucking apple pie, baseball and mom-hater. Added to that, everyone tries to force you to do something you've repeatedly said you don't like. Why is this? If you're a vegetarian, your meat-eating friends don't tie you down and force raw meat down your gullet. If you know that your friend doesn't do drugs, you don't force him to do blow with you. You just accept their "no" as an answer. Dancing, though, is different. I don't understand why. Help me understand this. People refuse to take "no I prefer not to" as an answer.
Anyway, I was tricked into slow dancing, which I still have a dislike for, but I did it anyway.
When I headed into this wedding, I opted not to tote my camera along. Frankly, I knew only a small handful of the people there, and I've only known them a few weeks. It sounds harsh, but the reality of it is that they're not my friends. I only bring this up because even when I go to weddings of people I've been friends with for 10 or more years, I take very few pictures. So I thought it would just be a bit of a burden, carrying it around all night and not using it at all. HOWEVER, I really wished that I had brought it for the sake of making this post funnier. There were four celebrity look-alikes at the wedding. One was Erik Cole of the Carolina Hurricanes. One was Chan "Cat Power" Marshall, and then there was this married couple. Both of them (yes, even the lady) looked like Russell Crowe. You don't need a photo to know who he is. Then, actually, the more I thought of it, the more I decided that the woman looked like a lovechild of Russell Crowe and Joan Cusack. And now that I think of it, Joan Cusack does look kinda like Russell Crowe with boobs. You be the judge.

Crowe ........ Cusack

Today as I was heading home, I nearly forgot that I told Amanda I would help her with some moving. So I went to help her shove some crud in the storage facility she's renting, then over to her boyfriend's apartment. Sorry..... THEIR apartment. I didn't stay long, though. Just long enough to catch up for a few minutes, then home.

It turned out to be a really good thing that I didn't stay at Karen's an extra night. When I got home, I couldn't find Marty. I looked high and I looked low. No sign of her. I knew she didn't get out, so she had to be somewhere. Then I heard some muffled crying. Turns out, she had gotten into one of my closets unbeknownst to me on Sunday morning. I guess when I was getting my suit and other stuff out. I just shut the closet door like always, but she was freakin' IN there. For almost two days. No food, no water, no litter box. I feel like a bad daddy. I don't know how it happened, but it did, and it's nobody's fault but mine. Scared the crap out of me, but she seems to be okay. And surprisingly, the closet doesn't reek of cat urine. I suppose since she didn't have anything to eat or drink, she didn't need to use the bathroom. Weird thing is, she doesn't even seem mad.

I'm sure there's more stuff that I wanted/meant to post about, but I'm kinda tired for now.

Now playing:
Sigur Ros -- ( )
Sigur Ros ( )


H said...

yeah, cats can hold it in for an extended period of time. not like me when i'm watching a movie i don't want to miss a minute of, more like a cat that can hold it in for an extended period of time.

playfulinnc said...

Good ole Marty...I miss seeing her freak the f%^& out on the catnip you have.

the fastidiot said...

...and this is where the famous phrase "i gotta piss like a cat who just watched gone with the wind" comes from...