I wrote about my sister's wedding a couple of weeks ago. Believe it or not, I had another wedding to go to just several days later. My high school buddy Chris was getting married, and he invited me.
Honestly, I was surprised to receive the invitation. I was happy to get it, but shocked nonetheless. Chris and I were great friends in high school and throughout college, but we hadn't spoken a single word to each other in three years since I went to his birthday party back in June 2012. I actually wrote about that evening - it was an adventurous night in which some girl repeatedly punched me for no reason. I thought I'd be able to hang out with that group more often again - why we parted ways in the first place is a very long and entertaining story I'll perhaps share in the future - but for one reason or another, it never happened. Thus, I was both thrilled and stunned to receive the invitation.
Better yet, unlike my sister's wedding, this wasn't going to be on a Sunday, so I could actually drink alcohol. It was on a Saturday, so I couldn't go crazy because I had to prepare for the next day, but I wouldn't have something hanging over me the entire time. Also, the reception was just a 5-minute drive away, so the traveling aspect in terms of alcoholic consumption didn't matter very much.
However, despite this reception being so close, my girlfriend and I were running late to it. That, of course, occurred because I couldn't put on my tie once again.
I'm so sick of this damn thing. And please don't tell me to watch a video. I've watched a video. In fact, I've watched all of the videos. These cocky a**holes all go, "Tying a tie is so easy just watch me, hwa hwa hwa!" yet I can never get it. There was even a chick with big boobs wearing a pink tank top instructing me...
But not even her lovely breasts were able to aid me. My girlfriend tried as well, but she couldn't get it either. It was close, but either the knot was wrong or the thinner side was longer than the thick side. She then gave up, and I tried again, only to fail numerous times. The wedding began at 6, and yet we were still trying to tie my tie at 6:20.
"This is f***Ing impossible!" I yelled. "No one knows how to tie a tie! It's all bulls***! Everyone fakes it by having on clip-ons! This cannot be f***ing done!"
My girlfriend took over and was close on her next attempt, so we decided to go with it. The thin side was still coming down farther than the thick side, and the knot was crooked, but at least it was on.
I can't express enough how sick of ties I am. Why do people wear them? They're impossible to put on for those of us who have no dexterity; they are uncomfortable; and I think they're ugly. From now on, I'm going with either a clip-on tie like everyone else, or the open-collar look, which I think is more presentable. I've written this before, but if John Reese from Person of Interest can pull it off...
...Then so can I - even though I'm a lot fatter and much less hammy.
My girlfriend was worried about being late, but I assured her that it wasn't a big deal.
"People bulls*** for like an hour while eating and drinking cocktails; it won't be a problem," I said. And sure enough, I was right. People were standing around in the lobby hall as we walked in, and no one even acknowledged that we were tardy. We said congratulations to the bride and groom, and then we found my friend Frank, whom I was BFFs with all throughout grade school. As with Chris and I, we hadn't spoken in three years as well; he was at the same party.
"Walt, you'll never guess who's here!" Frank's wife exclaimed. "Remember that girl who kept punching you at Chris' party? She's here, and she looks extra angry tonight so you better avoid her!"
Crap. I was with a date this time, so perhaps she wouldn't hit me. Or maybe she wouldn't recognize me. There were lots of guests at the wedding, so avoiding her would be pretty easy - or at least I hoped so.
After talking to Frank and his wife for about 15 minutes, my girlfriend and I decided to grab some food. If I had known what they were serving, I would've done so earlier. They had buffalo chicken bites, bacon-wrapped tiny hamburgers, fried shrimp and other delightful items. Everyone was about to go into the reception area, so I grabbed two plates and piled on whatever I could onto them. I think I ultimately had eight fried shrimp, 10 buffalo chicken bites and seven of those bacon-wrapped burgers.
I carried both plates with me to the table, and I got all sorts of looks from people. I even heard some comments.
"Have enough food, Walt?" Frank asked.
"You know we're going to be serving dinner, right?" Chris asked.
Yes, I know there's going to be dinner, and no I don't have enough food, actually! If I had a third arm, I would've piled food onto a third plate.
I don't get all the criticism. I mean, sure, it's not common for someone to have two platefuls of cocktail food with him, but that's because everyone else doesn't know the value of great appetizers like I do. As a fat man, I'm a self-proclaimed food connoisseur, and I'm well aware that there are few things better than buffalo chicken bites, fried shrimp and bacon. Other people might not be - especially pretentious a**holes who go to fancy-shmancy restaurants and pay $80 for fufu a la tutu. But not me. If I see buffalo chicken bites, fried shrimp and bacon, I'm going to eat as much of it as possible, even if my stomach explodes. I just don't care.
The questions didn't cease when I sat down. I took my seat and placed the two plates onto the table. This black woman I had never met before, who was sitting to the left of me, laughed and asked, "You all set?"
"No!" I spat back. "I'm not all set because I don't have a third arm, and if I did, I'd have even more buffalo chicken bites, fried shrimp and bacon, but God's a douche because he didn't give me a third arm, so f*** you and f*** all of you because I'm not all set!"
OK, OK, I didn't say anything of that. I just said, "I'm hungry" and shoved a buffalo chicken bite into my mouth.
I continued stuffing my face. As I reached for my sixth fried shrimp, my girlfriend, who was looking pretty embarrassed to be with me, put her hand on my arm.
"You have to stop," she said. "They're about to do the introductions."
"I can't eat during the introductions!?" I asked. "That's complete bulls***!"
Begrudgingly, I left my food alone as everyone walked in. After the bride and groom were announced, I thought it would be time to go back to eating, but the maid of honor and best man delivered their speeches. The maid of honor, the bride's sister, had some heartfelt things to say, and my girlfriend began crying.
"I don't even know these people," she said as she sobbed.
I eventually cried as well. I went to the bathroom after the speeches, and when I returned, my remaining buffalo chicken, fried shrimp and bacon were gone.
"WHERE DID THEY GO!?" I growled.
"Oh? I don't know," my girlfriend said. "I guess the waitress took them away."
NOOOOOOOOOOO AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHY GOD, WHY!? FIRST, NO THIRD ARM, AND NOW MY FOOD VANISHING!!!!
Thanks to some skank waitress stealing my food, I was suddenly hungry - even more so than usual. Dinner was being served, but they were calling up tables one-by-one. Because we were the rejects who weren't as close to the bride and groom, we were one of the higher table numbers, so we would be called up last.
I stewed around a little bit and even suggested to my girlfriend that we should go up and get our food. I discussed this a few weeks ago. Whenever I've been in a situation like this, I always get my food as soon as possible before my table is called. Like, what are they going to do, turn you away? Kick you out of the wedding? Food servers don't care; they're just happy to be paid, and they don't want to piss anyone off.
Because I didn't know anyone else at the table, save for my girlfriend and friend Dan, whom I went to high school with, I didn't want to be the only one eating dinner. Not being drunk didn't help either; if I had at least four drinks in me, I would've done it regardless.
However, it seemed like an eternity already. The people who were called up earlier were already finishing their meals. It seemed ridiculous to have to wait so long. I was so frustrated that I had it. I got everyone's attention and made an announcement:
"Let's go get our food," I suggested to the entire table. "I'm starving, and I don't want to wait any longer. I do this all the time. They won't care that we're getting dinner early. What are they going to do, kick us out?"
"I'm down if everyone else is," my girlfriend said. Dan nodded his head. Everyone then agreed to do so.
I was proud of myself. I was the captain of the table, leading my troops into the food line. A true hero, if I do say so myself.
I stood up and turned around. A fat woman with a frog face looked at me menacingly.
"Sit down!" she commanded. "It's not your turn to get food."
Wow. I sat down and sulked. Everyone looked at me as if I let them all down.
"This is the first time that's ever happened to me, I swear," I said, but no one was buying it. In a split second, I went from hero to zero. I was some loser who didn't even have his tie on right. And I didn't even have any buffalo chicken, fried shrimp or bacon to console myself.
Being rejected by the frog lady wasn't actually a huge deal because we were called up five minutes later. I was hoping for more buffalo chicken, fried shrimp and bacon. Alas, none of those items were available. Instead, one of the servers asked me if I wanted something strange called chicken prosciutto.
Me: What's that?
Server: Chicken prosciutto.
Me: Yeah, but what is it?
Server: Chicken prosciutto.
Me: I know, but what is it!?
Server: It's chicken prosciutto.
I wanted to punch this person in the face. What the hell is chicken prosciutto? I get the chicken part, but what the f*** is prosciutto? Is that some sort of cheese? Is that some sort of mustard? Is that some sort of vegetable or fruit? Is that some sort of broccoli? Is that some sort of fabric softener? It literally could've been anything.
I began hyperventilating. My girlfriend, seeing this, calmed me down.
"Babe, that's just chicken with cheese and ham," she said.
Well, why the hell didn't this a**hole say so? Ugh. As a food connoisseur, I can tell you for sure that the naming procedure for food is what's hurting the dining industry. Instead of asking me if I wanted chicken prosciutto, the server should've asked if I wanted chicken with ham and cheese. I would've said yes in a heartbeat!
Simplifying food names would make life so much easier. In fact, it might make me open to trying new things. Like, what if fufu a la tutu is really a double bacon cheeseburger with French fries on the inside? I would love fufu a la tutu if that were the case!
At any rate, I scarfed down dinner, which was very good. I was content to just sit there the entire time. Unfortunately, my girlfriend had other ideas.
Girlfriend: Let's go dancing!
Me: Ugh. No.
Girlfriend: Come on! Please?
Girlfriend: Please, Walt? Please!?
I finally gave in, and no, I'm not going to rant about how much I hate dancing again. For that, click on the previous link to my sister's wedding.
I will reference one thing from that entry, though. Remember that awkward dance I did when my girlfriend and I were announced, the one where I just clenched my fists, moved them up and down, and tilted my body 10 degrees both ways? I did this on the dance floor at Chris' wedding. My girlfriend referred to this as the "white man shuffle" and even began mimicking my moves! At least until she realized how stupid it looked.
We danced for a while. Eventually my back began to hurt, and I was getting bored.
"You're miserable, aren't you?" my girlfriend asked.
I was, but not just because I was dancing. I noticed that the chick who punched me at Chris' party also happened to be on the dance floor.
"Let's go get dessert! Quickly!" I shouted.
"But they're not serving dessert yet!" my girlfriend replied.
"Who cares!? Let's just get some dessert now!"
We went over to grab some tasty treats, and the frog lady wasn't around to stop us this time. I piled at least six sprinkle cookies onto my plate and went back to the table. The aforementioned black lady sitting next to me looked at me and chuckled.
"You all set again?" she asked, laughing.
I had the urge to dump my dessert plate onto her head. However, I did not. Food connoisseurs don't waste valuable sprinkle cookies.