bride

If you’re laughing at this, my wife probably isn’t – Part Two

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Since I wrote about  how I constantly embarrass my wife, I have been bombarded with remembrances:

Hey! Remember when you were punished and forced to sit in the corner by yourself because you accidentally laughed in that male nurse’s face because he had a lazy eye and thus was an obscenely close-talker at that housewarming party?

 

Hey! Remember when you screamed “Oh my God, what happened to you?” when your wife’s step-mother opened her front door and her hair was completely white because she had stopped dyeing it?  

 

Hey! Remember when you laughed in that guy’s face in the men’s room at the wedding of your wife’s co-worker because he had chafing so bad from dancing that he had to have his wife bring Gold Bond powder into the men’s room? He may have had Moves like Jagger, but go easy there Buddy – you’re not on Soul Train!

I didn’t realize that a short little baby post would lead the charge down memory lane, but so be it. Apparently, word on the street in our house is that I’ve turned into the crazy relative at the family gatherings that silently farts like a saboteur and doesn’t acknowledge it when he’s on your team for Cranium…I’m not saying that it would have been OK if he weren’t on my team, but come on. Is that the flatulent equivalent of a tree falling in the woods and it stinks, but you don’t know if it really happened because no one will acknowledge it?

Cranium: The only game where crop-dusting earns extra points.

That being said, the groom is 6’ 4” and was marrying a 4’ 10” psycho with flaming red hair and I could just tell that their wedding was going to be a doozy. During her last wedding performance, Homegirl got so wasted on whiskey sours that she almost took out the bride making her entrance on the staircase and then a table full of food when she tried to sit down. I will take a little bit of responsibility for forcing the whiskey sours down her throat until she became socially bearable, but she only talks to animals and my wife ditched me so I didn’t have a lot to work with besides alcohol. You can just imagine how high my expectations were for her trip down the aisle and the fiasco that would ensue.

As a general rule, I don’t like weddings. The food is always terrible or there’s drama with a wayward flower girl that makes me douse her with a pitcher of water but, most of all,  I hate to dance unless I’m really really wasted. Everyone always thinks that their wedding will be different somehow and that it’ll be the best one anybody’s ever attended…Blah blah blah – they’re always the same.

It should be fairly obvious and go without saying that I was a little bummed out that the ceremony went off without any craziness and then started drinking very heavily to make it through the rest of the day. I wasn’t disappointed that it went well, but I just knew when I scanned that crowd and saw 76% of them were senior citizens – to bide my time because this was definitely about to get more interesting.

Fast forward to the Bride and Groom cutting the cake so that they could feed it to each other. To my disappointment, he didn’t push the cake into his new bride’s face so I leaned over to the teenage boy sitting next to me and said “Pussy.” When I said that, I was commenting on the groom not covering his bride with icing from the cake, not realizing that he would then shout out “PUSSY.” Guess who got blamed? Not the young echo sitting next to me that called out the groom for being a wuss at his own wedding, but poor, innocent me who was simply commenting on the state of affairs in that catering hall. Apparently, the “adults” at the table thought I should have known better – but knew what? That he was a freaking parrot and would shout that out? It was really funny though…

I did my best to get that Bride drunk on whiskey sours again, but sometimes your best isn’t good enough and she wasn’t wasted so I gave up on her when she refused to do the worm. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned peer-pressure? If someone yells at you “Do the worm!” you do the worm. It’s just plain rude not to honor a request whether it’s your wedding or not.

That blue-haired crowd wasn’t about to leave any of their seats even if that place spontaneously erupted in flames, so I was left with no choice but to take over the dance floor. Like I said before, I am not a dancer unless I’m completely wasted, but I was a dancing machine at that wedding so you can just imagine the condition I was in. The last thing you wanna do is to get me started with a bunch of Golden Girls – those are my peeps right there! I am not trying to brag, but the majority of the population does not find me attractive, but senior women, with glaucoma especially, find me irresistible.

We started a conga line that the DJ had to actually play twice in a row because it took so long for some of the blue haired ladies to get up out of their seats with their walkers and canes. I was prancing around and grabbing them while screaming out “Come on you little Minx – let’s break a hip!”  Like a young Baryshnikov, I was bopping around like Peter Pan and when that DJ played “the rhythm is gonna get you” – he meant it. I got more digits and emails at that wedding than I ever have before or since. Forget the Cougars – their older sisters are like “Super Cougars” and need love too…

My harem of hotties shaking their money makers!

There was also a short moment during the reception when I tried to get the Maître D to dance with my mother-in-law…I guess I probably shouldn’t have pretended that she was a recent widow to make him feel bad, but he did seem really nice and she does love to dance. I guess not everyone thinks it’s funny when you try to pimp out their mother to the help, but I always find that to be such a gray area…

Like the helper that I am, I tried to make the best of what could have been a bad situation for everyone and I thought I was “helping out” like a crowd motivator at a Bar Mitzvah, but some others felt that wasn’t the case. Apparently, there are social cues I missed out on and I’m the crazy one here…I guess you live and learn for the next family function. Thoughts? Whose side are you on?

I Hate Birds: Part Two – Dirty Words about Filthy Birds

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It’s a thin line between love and hate for most people, but for me and my relationship with birds – the line isn’t very thin at all. I realize that I might be crossing a line by condemning your flying friends, but I’m willing to risk it. Some of you reading this and a few of my close friends are actually bird lovers, but I don’t hold it against any of you. I am disgusted and appalled by it, but I don’t hold it against you.

People get so offended when you talk about their pets and, as a Real pet owner of a very cool dog, I totally agree when that happens – but here’s the thing: Dogs are pets. I will even concede that cats can be considered pets – even though I severely dislike them. Having a cat is like having an arrogant roommate that won’t let you touch their stuff and they shit on your stuff. Not to mention that when cats see a baby sleeping those sneaky bastards jump on the baby’s chest and try to suck the milk out of their mouth; but, like I said – birds aren’t pets! They are disgusting rats that just happen to have wings! Why in God’s name is there a rat on display in your house? Also, it is really fucking weird when a parrot asks me how I am, how my day was or do I need him to fluff my pillow! THAT IS NOT COOL IN ANY WAY – IT’S ACTUALLY VERY FREAKY AND WEIRD! 

Weezie and her surprises

My friend Weezie and I have known each other since college and she is one of my craziest friends. You’ll see a lot of stuff about her on here for one very good reason – something is seriously wrong with her! I mean to say that she’s truly nuts but that’s why we get along so well and I wouldn’t have it any other way! This is the girl that didn’t catch the bouquet at her brother’s wedding when the bride threw it so she rugby-slide-tackled the girl that caught it. That would have been OK if she let it go at that, but as they were rolling around on the dance floor tugging at the flowers – Weezie threw her legs around the girl, pincer-style and wrestled her for it. Talk about a wedding to remember! That is the very reason that my wife refused to throw the bouquet at our wedding – the last thing she wanted to see was Weezie taking out one of our friends from work with a sneak attack off of one of the banquet chairs like the Flying Karamazov Brothers! I, on the other hand, thought it would add a certain element of fun and bring the reception to another level – but marriage is about compromise and regretfully, I lost that battle.

Weezie and I were out drinking one night in Queens, so I crashed at her house since she lives nearby. Her mother Hazel has two gross tenants in their house that they call pet bids (but as I said earlier, birds are not real pets!) and after too many drinks to remember, Weezie explained to me how her mother does this “thing” when they have people sleep over their house which they think is really cute and fun. I, of course, immediately thought how great it would be to be woken up to breakfast in bed with pancakes made in the shape of the Fraggles or Luke Skywaffles, but that wasn’t the “thing.” What they think is cute is to have one of their filthy birds wake up their houseguest!

What’s wrong with her mother?

Her mother has one of those birds wake up the person staying over their house! “Wake Up, Wake Up! Good Morning!” it bellows as it literally struts across the bed and scares the shit out of (I mean, wakes up) the poor, unsuspecting visitor…I begged her to keep those birds away from me, but she just kept laughing at me and went off to her room. I told her that I didn’t want to be remembered as the guy who strangled their bird or shit the bed when the bird tried to wake him up, but she went down the hallway and ignored me. She went to bed and I couldn’t go to sleep in that house. I was up all night hiding out under the sheets terrified like that kid who saw dead people in The Sixth Sense. Literally, I got no sleep there out of sheer terror!

Luckily for that bird, she listened and didn’t bring it anywhere near me or have it try to wake me up. I am like a dead body when I’m asleep – I’m literally out cold – and I have been viciously attacked in the past by birds (see “I hate birds – part one”), so I get up ready to rumble if I’m jostled (sort of like my friend Sue who actually punched her Sorority sister Collette in the face as she tried to wake her up because she was going to be late for class – needless to say Collette didn’t try to wake her up twice!) I think Weezie realized that if I woke up and that thing was anywhere near me, I would have went all Kung Fu on that bird and beat the shit out of it!

You innocently invite someone into your home and then you turn on them and go all Man vs. Wild? I mean, what if that bird farts on the pillow as it’s casually strolling around – Do you then catch pink eye and bird flu? What’s next – are you gonna teach that bird how to talk with a Jamaican accent? Picture waking up to that filthy little thing bopping on the headboard with a little Rasta hat with dreads hanging down his neck asking if you want a Red Stripe or if want him to braid your hair. Not cool at all! This post should actually be hung at their front door and used as a public service announcement to any of Weezie’s friends about the dangers of sleeping over her house: Hazel is the cutest little thing on two wheels – but you have to beware of the cute ones!