The wedding date

So there I was.... surrounded... by strangers in a church, and it occurred to me: Being a wedding date can really suck sometimes. Mind you, not this particular time, but sometimes yes. (In this fashion, I mean, YOU aren't the one invited - you are the DATE, the plus one, the significant other, the extra entree... whatever.)

Furthermore, I have this thing against dates - I've gotten over it as my boyfriend's wallet can vouch. BUT I used to hate them.

These are some various reasons why:
1. It's an initial interview - and that's not really who you are, so I feel like its a waste of time. I.e. I don't usually wear makeup or heels... why would i do it for a first date? Because I am sheep.
2. I have to eat in front of you, meaning you have to eat in front of me AND maintain a conversation, without awkward flow. (Oh and NO I don't order a salad as an entree unless I really want a salad for an entree... screw you, I'm hungry)
3. I can't get away from you if you are a terrible conversationalist.
4. I can't get away from you if you drove.
5. The end of the date... does anyone really know how to get out of that? I mean, I usually make a point to talk about the end of the date so that I don't have to think about it later.... or I just run away from you. <----always works

Well, wedding dates are always a little awkward to begin with because you are at a sacred ceremony tying two people together for life (which as you know, gets me a little nervous anyway.)

Hey would you like to join me at an occasion where love and forever is the topic of conversation with family members and priests (or deacons, judges etc.) even though I don't know you that well....

Now, I've been a wedding date twice... the first time, it was a STUPID STUPID idea. I went with this guy, who I did not know that well, because he had just moved to Tally (and occasionally my brain shuts off and I forget that sometimes I don't have to be nice.... stupid manners) and it was for a wedding where I knew NO ONE, because he was OLD friends with the bride and groom, like he knew them 10 years ago or something. There wasn't even a middle person to talk with because HE didn't really know anyone... but not only that but the guy was AWKWARD anyway... I mean, I wasn't interested in him like that, I thought I was just being a friend because that's how he phrased the "wedding date question", but NOPE.
He wanted some Theen.

Great so now.
a - at a wedding where I know NO ONE except my awkward date.
b - trapped with a guy that might make a move, thinking I'm one of those girls who's underwear falls off at the sight of a white dress. (yeah he really didn't think this one through)

So what did I do??

I went to the bar. And to my surprise, they were older men. Yup, that's who I made friends with. The older men were the best "make a move" repellent ever. Yes, people, I found an out. Men don't want to look like asses in front of OLDER men.

I didn't move from that spot once, til we were leaving, which I made as soon as I could without being rude. And yes, by that point, the "time to make a move" passed because "I was pooped". :)

For the record, it was beautiful, but when beautiful mixes with uncomfortable, weird, awkward... well it's like that joke. "You build a million bridges, you're a bridge builder... but you suck one dick...."

HOWEVER, I can honestly say that I enjoyed my last "wedding date" experience. The people were awesome and outgoing so that helped. But really there are a few things that I really need to mention to get the juices flowing for those "dates": guys listen up. (Girls, well you know what to do)

1. Open bar - the answer is always yes. (Or in most of my cases, a date that knows to keep your beverage filled - if it's cash bar, boys pony up.)
2. Correct table pairing. This matters, I had the greatest people at my table. They laughed and my jokes, THEY were funny, they agreed to take shots... :)
3. A DJ that takes requests and can keep people alive.

Nothing like dancing, with a drink in your hand, with your new friends, singing "FREE FALLING".

Oh, and having an understanding boyfriend helps. By that I mean strong... and able to lift your body and carry you to the house...

I've been having trouble

So there I am surrounded... by cookbooks and paper... I started this writing "thing" that is supposed to be like non-stop-going-crazy-whatever-you-want-to-say... and I realize something. I don't want to SAY anything. I don't create my own stories with my imagination... I experience life then exaggerate about how it went down.

NO plot
NO in-depth characters
NO antagonist (unless I somehow make it myself)
NO hero (ummm... yeah, I'm never gonna be a hero)
NO ending...

I just usually have a setting and some thoughts (or unfortunate circumstance) and go.

Crazy dogs - YES
CRAZY people- YES
Poop..... yess....

So instead of writing about my Halloween because it was just a party time, I'm going to write a story about my friend Limo, because this really happened... and it's funny

H'ok. You must know by now, I have some great friends and this is why:

My boyfriend's parents live in this like huge house, by that I mean mansion... the size of the pool area is as big as my old apartment... (please don't think this a reflection on my bf, who i love dearly, because he currently lives in a kinda small room filled with his stuff, NOT in said mansion....)

Well, my friend Limo, his gf (Soprano) and Dev and I crashed after Halloween. The next day, I'm feeling surprisingly ok. but... my ass hurts. Ok, not my ass - more my asshole. AND YES, the first thing I did was accuse my bf of a personal foul... he said, "NAY friend, Nay." And I believe him, mainly because I remembered what happened that night. I'm laying on the bed, contemplating my hurt asshole, when Limo comes in. Limo is built like a Mac Truck, me, I'm more of a mini coop.

Limo played by Mac Truck: Hey, what's going on?
Me - mini coop: Oh, nothing.... by that I mean my asshole hurts and I'm afraid to poop.
Limo: SO... about that....
Me: ......
Limo: You know how there's like a million zillion bathrooms in this place....
Me: uh huh.....
Limo: Dev showed me like two upstairs, then two downstairs... he like gave me the options and tried to guide me there. When I finally found one, well wouldn't you know I had to go, y'know, and well, I used the only one in the entire house that won't flush.
Me: BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA !!!!!!!!
After a minute of me laughing:
Me: dude that sucks.

Needless to say, it turned out all right. Toilet did flush (thank the toilet lords of the drain), but man, I had to tell everyone then laugh again.

We went to breakfast (which was amazing) and I hung out with the fam. I made sure they knew that my ass hurt and that Limo's poop is infamous.

But it reminded me of another story that happened the day before that I CAN'T believe I didn't mention. OK, so Limo and Soprano drove down to come hang for Halloween. We totally had a Rock Band 3 party and it was AWESOME. I was a backup singer but most importantly I was the Hookah Manager. (For the rest of you, no, not pot... I don't do that crap, for shizzle.)

Well after a night of going crazy with the Jackson 5 and Coheed, it was time to turn in. My sister's husband is on the couch fast asleep - I'm about to head to bed, Limo just went to grab something to eat, and Soprano is smoking the hookah... Limo sits down and CRASH!!!BOOM!POW!!! (not really but you get it)


THE HOOKAH HAS TIPPED OVER AND IS NOW BURNING THE COUCH!


Everything happens at once - Limo jumps up so he won't get burned in the back, while Soprano jumps up to save Limo and the Hookah (dude, the fact that it didn't break is remarkable.) My bro-in-law flies to a standing position throws off the cushions like he's Hulk Hogan. Limo speeds to grab the coals with a plastic wrapper; no sooner had he picked it up Soprano yells, "THAT'S PLASTIC," Limo screams in pain (yet remarkably threw the coals on the glass table without missing), and I look around for something to stop the burning... (Yes, friends I'm a bit slower, but only because I was the furthest away). I see my barcardi/coke and water... What do you think I threw to save the day?




Water, you idiots.

What is this? Amateur hour? (Soprano, 2010)

Anyway, that was the fastest 15 seconds in the world and started the weekend. Nice right?

Oh wait, I know you are wondering, so what happened to your asshole? Did you fall on a cone shaped contraption? Did your boyfriend play with the no fly zone? Did you sit in a middle seat that wasn't really middle seat? I think everyone knows.

I was abducted by aliens and they gave me an anal probe.