Love Is In The Air; Find The Lysol
What’s that you hear? It’s the sound of wedding bells ringing for assclown and his lovely wife. This Friday night they will tie the proverbial knot. While I love them as a couple, I am a bit frightened by their collective judgment, as they have asked me to participate in the wedding. I will be the Master of Ceremonies for their non-traditional ceremony and reception. This is a brave move on their part, since I am sure they are aware that the last wedding in which I was asked to do a job, I told the entire reception that the groom was a closet nudist, got cut off from the open bar and basically had to be placed in the back of a limo in which some friends and I convinced complete strangers to join us to travel to downtown Washington D.C. That was not the limo’s actual destination, of course.
Then again, I can’t really question the judgment of any couple that is being introduced at the reception to the tune of “The Final Countdown.” That’s how fun this couple is. So, I may not be as bitter and jaded when they walk down the aisle as I usually am at weddings. For a brief moment, I may believe in love. But for many moments after, I will believe in the open bar. Cheers!
Quizzo victory last night. What did we learn? Agatha Christie is the all time sales leader in fiction. Waylon Jennings sang the theme song to the Dukes of Hazzard with his band, The Waylors. And the world’s largest pyramid is in Mexico.
Yesterday, my office served as the setting for what I like to call, “Attack of the Sassy Black Women.” Sandy and one of her friends were talking about an array of subjects, and I, fully aware of the sound of opportunity knocking, stopped doing all work to take notes on everything they were saying. What follows is a mind-blowing journey through a place where syntax and sense are distant memories.
Sandy, referring to a not-so-well-liked court male court officiant, called him a “jealous hearted, poor ass, trifling, black bitch.” From her stories, this description was not only apt, but also generous.
I told Sandy that I was tired, and she told me that I was full of life that Jesus gave me, and that all I needed to do was look at her to see a “beat the fuck down, bitch ass woman.” I want to make this saying into a t-shirt.
Barry White came on the radio, and Sandy and her friend were telling me about how they used to go out in the 1970’s and dance to his music. Sandy said, “You don’t even know it, baby. I was fucking hot.” I told her I believed it; I did. She continued, “I wasn’t nothing but Big Fun.” I said, “Ah, like Heathers.” She replied, “Who the hell is Heather?” I told her it’s a movie with a band in it called “Big Fun.” (I did not add that they sang the song, "Teenage Suicide [Don't Do It]). To which, she replied, apropos of nothing, “I haven’t seen a Steven Segal movie in a long, long time.”
I should let you know, by way of background, that Sandy is a huge Steven Segal fan. I didn’t know there were any, but it turns out that one of the biggest works right next to me. Jesus wept.
Sandy’s friend told us she just went to “the ugliest fucking wedding” the other day. She described it as “straight up Sanford and Son; the only thing missing was the truck.” The bride and groom wore matching FUBU outfits in yellow. Lovely.
I will spare you the women’s explanation about why men get diarrhea more than women.
And finally, for some reason, at one point Sandy’s friend screamed, “Wooo!” at the top of her lungs and then followed it up with, “It’s like an encyclopedia up in here!!!” And I honestly have no idea what she could have meant by this. Really, no clue.
Half day off today and a full day off tomorrow! My updates will be accordingly intermittent. Yay!