Thursday, June 24, 2010

Weddings, Part 2

I've established in the previous post that David and I were basically two crazy kids who ran away and got hitched at the drop of the hat, in the sense that our mutual ages added up to almost 80 years and we had been together 10 years and had a child together. We wanted to just get the whole thing over with and frankly I was a little disappointed to find out that you can't get married on-line. I buy everything else from; you're telling me I can't buy a marriage there too? Fine, I'll try eBay instead.

The thing is, you have to have an "officiant" at your wedding, which is bad because you have to pay them but is also good because it gives you an opportunity to use the word officiant, which is rare. In fact the only opportunity I've ever had is when I got married.

The judge we rented had canned vows, which I heard for the first time as I was promising to obey them. Promise to love, check. Promise to stand by in good times and bad, check. Promise to wait a minute! This relationship has been going so well to this point -- why mess with success?

Present at the "ceremony," which I use in the loosest term possible, were the required two witnesses who had to sign something saying...what? That they were there? That in fact we were married? That we deserved each other? I'm a little foggy on this part, but I had recruited them from among our friends who work on the Square, since the wedding was at the Capitol over the lunch hour. After the pronouncement, David -- who had evaded the ball and chain for 45 years -- said "Hey, we got married! Let's go have a beer to celebrate [or at least observe]!"

"Nah," we all said, including me, "We got to get back to work."

Sunday, June 20, 2010


We are heading to a wedding this weekend. The last wedding we attended included a promise by the wife to submit to the husband, at which point Baby W let loose with an earsplitting grunt, likely editorial in nature.

I can't help being somewhat cynical at weddings, as I mentally calculate what year the happy couple is most likely to split. Will it be the three year well-that-was-a-colossal-mistake approach? The twelve year Christ,-you're-boring-me? Or maybe, just maybe if they're very lucky and have a sound foundation of love and respect, maybe the couple can make it all the way to their 40th before separating, ala Al & Tipper. I am a blast to have at weddings, oh yes I am.

David and I had originally planned to not marry even after we had a child, mostly because we liked striking a blow at the institution of family, helping crumble the underpinnings of society, and unraveling the very fabric of our civilization. It's not often you can strike such a blow for anarchy by not doing something.

Finances got kind of complicated, though, and I decided things would be easier if we got married. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: "There's certain documentation we need, like birth certificates, in order to get married. I'm going to work on getting those together unless you tell me not to." [Beat] "Consider that a proposal."

David: [Long pause. Deep breath. And yet another pause.] "I guess I can't think of any good reason why we shouldn't."

Me: "And I consider that an acceptance!"

And thusly we were hitched.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Daddy's little girl

Stella and I were at the park, watching ducks.

Me: "There go the ducks. I wonder why they're flying away."

Stella ponders for a long minute. "I think my farts scared them off."

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Places not to be seen

I was out and about and saw a guy I had a fling with maybe 15 years ago. Yes, that's a long time ago but on some thing the statute of limitations doesn't expire, you know?

And guess where we were? Guess where we crossed paths? JOANN FABRICS. Cripes. No surprise that we didn't acknowledge each other, is it? The god damn fabric store, where I swear to god I have never set foot before. Also I would like to note that the one time, the one single time that I have ever been to a strip club -- which I asked David to take me to because I was curious, and the whole time I was hideously uncomfortable and I at least expected the women to be beautiful but in actuality their breasts were so obviously surgically altered that they looked as if they were about to burst, and when I expressed my disappointment to David that the locale wasn't the least bit sexy, he looked shocked and said, "Oh, definitely not; if it was sexy I'd hang out there all the time" -- that one time, I also ran into a guy that I knew. But not the same guy.

Look! A Blog! Ever seen one of those before?

I always grind my teeth a little when people tell me I'm good at Facebook, because what could be more useless than being good at Facebook? It's like praising someone for their skills at using a magnifying glass to fry ants. ("I really like the way you handle that lens.) In looking for something slightly less lame to be good at, I finally got around to starting a blog.

Just like I'm the last person without a cell phone, I'm apparently the last person without a blog. Everyone else in the world seems to abandon their blog after about six posts and that is totally not going to be the case with this blog; I imagine I'll make it to ten or eleven posts before losing my focus and moving on to something else and hey is that the noodles boiling over?