Set at a wedding… Take 1. Set at a wedding Take 2.
I have never been to a wedding…long pause…I lied. I have been to one, regrettably. Well, not really regrettably because it all ended up very truly, “hunky dory.” I wouldn’t, I shouldn’t say, “hunky dory.” Weddings should be a marriage. That is how it should go. You see, I am rather traditional and believe that a marriage is something you don’t just tippy-toe into. A marriage should last and divorce is not really an option, not an option unless you got to. A marriage should last and last. Kids these days hop in and out of marriages like they (the marriages) were hot tubs. These days kids look at marriage and divorce as a hop skip-skip-and-a-jump at a play ground, a joyful trip to the wishing well, a dip in a …well, I think you got me. Divorce shouldn’t simply be one of those things you do if you got to pee real badly. The divorce rate in the US and the whole world has sky rocketed, or dropped (whichever way you want to look at it), but all those fancy bachelor and bachelorette parties, and the limos were for naught. I’ll bet there are plenty of pissed of fathers screaming about how they could be out fishing in Florida instead of having to look at the gap between his son in-laws teeth (which seems to be growing). I would bet that Las Vegas (get it betting and Las Vegas?) is really feeling the crunch. I would bet. I would bet and bet again. Then again, maybe Nevada is booming with all the last minute annulments. Frankly, I don’t know a whole lot about the divorce, or wedding, or matrimony syndromes.
Me? I am one of those happily never married bachelors (not by choice mind you). I wouldn’t mind hooking up with one of those divorced maidens…oops that is the other me, my alter ego! You see, there are a couple of me(z).
Actually, I have heard that there even may be a third me lurking somewhere, but the meds just can’t track him down, neither can the docs.
Where was I? Yes, wedding. Well; actually, no, not a wedding. I have never been to a wedding. Scratch that—I have been to a wedding. I have been to five, maybe six weddings. What I liked most about it, I’m talking my own, was the cake. I only remember parts, but I was surely there, and I have the ring to prove it. There was also that really cute girl, well, I shouldn’t say girl. I think that “girl” was 29, if she wasn’t a day; the bride’s little sister, my wife’s, little sister? No silly! She wasn’t my little sister. Actually, I guess she was my little sister, she is my little sister. She was my little sister in-law. Gee, that is like kissing cousins, accept it’s like kissing wife’s sister, or something like that. I guess it was just “something like that,” because there wasn’t a lot of kissing going on and it was really “something.” Well, there was a little, but kissing your wife’s little sister? I am sure that there is a limit to that, maybe a rule against it. As for kissing cousins? Isn’t that plain old incest with a swirl. It is kind of like…having a doughnut with sprinkles? “And for you my lady, a special treat…a banana split with nuts on top!”–gee, that even made me lose my apetite; my apetite for doughts
Ooops, you’ll have to excuse me, I forgot to take my meds this morning. And, when I finally did get to them I had to suck them down with coffee left over from yesterday. It was even bad then; can you imagine sucking down a fistful of chalky meds with cold, stale coffee from yesterday? Well, I got to go get me some breakfast, maybe a doughnut with sprinkles and a WARM cup of coffee.