Weddings, Etc.

My good friend Will got married on Sunday. Good friends’ weddings are mad emotional. Nine years ago, Will told me that there was nothing he could imagine being more excruciating than his own wedding day (he hates being the center of attention). But he’s really into this chick, so it turned out to be a wash.

Anyway, there’s one thing all weddings have in common: I’m desperately stuffed by the time dinner starts. They’re all the same—you finish the ceremony, everyone pours into the party area, the Christians make a bee-line to the bar, the Jews trample over people to get to the food, I shove a constant stream of food into my mouth for 15 straight minutes, and then we all head to our tables. Though nearly comatose from my binge of heavenly hors d'oeuvres, I use my last ounce of energy to elbow people aside to ensure that I don’t end up sitting next to a shitty person, and collapse into my seat. And then they’re like, “Dinner time!” and serve Course #1 of 5. I would rather be an oppressed Russian serf laying brick walls under Stalin’s rule at that moment than eat, but somehow I end up eating at least 2/3 of the dinner, all in the form of picking at it because it’s immensely delicious. Then people expect me to dance.

Nothing is worse than when I’m stuffed and not yet drunk and all the d-bags get up to dance and they’re all judgmental and self-righteous because I don’t want to go with them. If I have even one ally who will stay at the table with me, I don’t budge. But I’m not quite secure enough to sit at a table alone at a wedding, so I usually end up on the dance floor. Now when I’m on an empty stomach, I need four drinks to dance. But on a full stomach, I need at least nine. So I stand there, bopping my head like an asshole, and I’m incredibly envious of the life of a Russian serf. Meanwhile, all the Christians are way less stuffed, way more drunk, and dancing happily. Christians 1, Tim 0.

Another common experience of mine at weddings is the miserable pressure when interacting with the bride or groom. First of all, I have trouble getting anything intelligent or witty out of my mouth because I’m kind of star-struck. Secondly, every second I’m talking to one of them, in my head I’m like, “You idiot—hurry up and say something useful! You’re talking to the groom, for Christ’s sake. Do something memorable or emotional! But not too cliché. He’s been hearing cliché things all night—say something original. Oh god, he definitely can’t believe he’s spending this much time talking to your useless, ugly face. Why are you so ugly?! He’s definitely trying to get out of this conversation right now—he has so many important interactions to have, and lord knows this isn’t one of them!” And so on.

Anyway, by the end of the night, both the Jews and Christians have gotten liquored up and everyone’s dancing and sweating profusely. This is fine for everyone—except the idiot in the royal blue shirt (me), whose sweat is intensely visible. White and light blue shirts hide the sweat pretty well. But royal blue turns navy blue when wet. I feel like I’ve made this error multiple times in the past, and seem incapable of learning.

Then, after a weekend of yelling, I had lost my voice. When you lose your voice, you don’t sound cool—you sound like a huge loser. Nothing is less dignified than a man whose voice is cracking. Simultaneously, I was in a super-irritable, bitchy mood on Monday and Tuesday after the weekend because of the lack of sleep. Bad combo—an irritable person without a sense of humor about himself whose voice is cracking relentlessly.

Let’s move on.

Here are three special links:

This magician is like, “Yo, watch this—you know how people are really boggled by magicians? And you know how monkeys are kind of just extremely dumb people? Well check out how boggled this extremely dumb monkey is by these tricks. One of the best videos of all time.

People who do incredible sand shows are more talented than everyone else.

If finding this story wonderfully funny is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Finally, a little Ted Kennedy story:

My senior year of college, my friend Brian and I volunteered to be ushers at an on-campus event where Ted Kennedy and then-president Larry Summers were speaking (easy way to watch the event for free). After the event, Brian and I were walking around having a beer, and we ended up stumbling into the room where Kennedy and Summers were mingling with Harvard d-bags. Everyone was in a suit. Except me and Brian, who were in shorts and t-shirts, since we were ushers never intending to be seen. But we thought “what the hell” and stayed around.

So we walked over to Ted Kennedy to shake his hand. But because of what we were wearing, he couldn’t see us. Like, he literally couldn’t see us. Our casual clothes were invisibility cloaks. He would shake a student’s hand (who was in a suit) one foot away from me, then turn towards me, but his eyes would pass right over me and Brian and he’d continue on his way. It wasn’t an aggressive thing—I really believe he couldn’t see us.

This suddenly became a fun game. We kept circling around in front of Kennedy and he would walk elsewhere, not knowing anyone was in front of him. So we’d go over and block his path and he’d kind of change directions, as if there was a tree in front of him. We tried splitting forces and forming a two-pronged attack. But he’d shift through the middle of us.

We decided to try to shake Larry Summers’ hand. He couldn’t see us either. We circled around him (quite the distance) and he’d casually change directions and shake someone’s hand nearby.

But then, Summers walked up a small staircase.

Brian and I saw our opportunity. We rushed around to the top of the staircase, and stood there, side by side, blocking the way off the stairs.

He walked toward us, step by step. Something had to give.

He got to the top, stopped in front of us, and he blinked. He and I stared into each other’s eyes. Finally, he spoke:

“What—do you—do here?”

“We’re seniors,” I replied. He reluctantly shook our hands—after all, we had left him with little choice—and continued on.

We never conquered Kennedy.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh God really amazing Ted Kennedy story.

Anonymous said...

Laughing my ass off at work.

Anonymous said...

hi-larious

u r awesome tim

Anonymous said...

you've got guts.

Anonymous said...

You are SOOO funny. Hilarious entry!

Made my day!!

Anonymous said...

sand show is SO cool.

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