My Cousin's Wedding and Other Stories

First and foremost, this isn't an opinion but a collection of stories that have all happened recently. Clearly you're not that busy if you're reading our blog, so I'm sure you'll appreciate the diversion even if it doesn't technically fit the title of the blog. However, it will most likely still be over opinionated so, I mean, I guess it fits. In any case, I haven't written anything substantial in a while so this is probably going to be a pretty long post. So get your popcorn ready, get settled in a comfortable chair and get out the checkbook and pay grandma for the rubdown. Let's go.

Saturday was an extremely important day in the history of my family: USA was playing Ghana in the round of 16 . . . oh yeah and the first of my maternal grandmother's grandchildren got married or something. I think. I never technically saw them get married, but we'll get to that part of the story soon. Alright, so USA-Ghana: The Rematch. Could the US get revenge against the team that prevented them from advancing out of the group stage four years ago? No. Fucking assholes. Now the game started at 2:30 and the wedding started at 4:30 . . . I think you can see where this is going. First half highlights: I'm not sure, I was sleeping on the floor of our hotel room. Oh yeah, I skipped that part. We drove to New Hampshire to make sure we were there in time to check in to our hotel before the game started. Right. So after Ghana scored, which I think happened in the first 8 seconds, I took a nap. Second half, USA dominating the attack and Landon "Big Dick" Donovan bangs home a penalty shot for the equalizer. Then, in a brilliant tactical move, the US decides to stop attacking and you know the end of the story. Of course, you also know that this game went to extra time, so by the time the game was over it was like 5:15. Oops. The most important game in the history of US soccer vs. my cousin's wedding. I maintain we made the right choice. If you're my mother, you do not feel the same way. However, if you're my mother, after hearing that the game went to extra time, you say to Lindsay, "Do you think they're going to come and keep an eye on the score here?" Yeah, we watched 90 minutes but we're not going to watch the overtime. Right. So the game ends in disappointing fashion but we put on our game faces because goddammit, we have a wedding to attend.

Brief aside: My cousin Amy was by far the LeBron James in the "Barbara Simmons' Grandchildren Wedding" Fantasy Draft, but there's a sharp dropoff after that. Who could possibly be the number 2 pick? It's a real conundrum. I'd have to say that the safe pick would be Jon or Emily because they're quickly approaching 30 and everyone knows that your life pretty much ends at 30, so why not get married? On the other hand, you may want to take Big Slick with the number 2 spot, not that I'm anywhere close to that point but because, well, I do some pretty stupid/hilarious things when I drink and unfortunately I can't completely rule out the possibility that I'd get drunk married. I'm just saying . . . the two spot is wide open.

Back to the wedding. We pull up to the address listed via the help of Garmin, and we're at a high school or something that looks like Ludlow High before it was renovated and shit. The name of the place we were going was "Searles Castle" so we're a little confused. After navigating our way through the maze and crossing the moat, we find some parking. Yay! Then the limo from the wedding pulls next to us and the driver asks if we want a ride up. "Is it far?" we ask. "Far enough that you don't want to walk." Fuck yeah, free ride in a limo. I feel fancy. We get to the top, mingle in the crowd like we've been there the whole time. "Beautiful ceremony." Can't go wrong right? The rest of the wedding was pretty much what you'd expect, with 4 events worth mentioning.

1. My grandfather, for reasons that escape normal human comprehension, thought it was appropriate to carry a small comb with him and occasionally stick it above his lip to form a Hitler mustache and give the Nazi salute. I was a little buzzed so I thought it was hysterical, but I don't think that's socially acceptable.
2. My grandmother was talking to a guy that grew up on the same street and I guess he's still pretty close friends with my Uncle Bob. She turns to me and says, "Billy, this is Charlie Tarvell, he was one of your uncle's best friends growing up." So, being the polite young man I am, I introduce myself. At this point my grandmother disappears and the guy says to me, "Man, your mother saved me from going to prison for 20 years. She's a fucking saint." He then turns, and walks away. So . . . um yeah, that happened.
3. Same guy, nicknamed "Slim Shady" by Matt for wearing his sunglasses on the dance floor even though it was like 10 and the wedding was outside, dominated the floor for 4 hours without stopping. Dude was a white dancing machine.
4. Real fat girl with a tramp stamp. Matt says, "That's not a tramp stamp, that's a tramp postcard."

That was my main story, now here are some other things.

Nothing makes me angrier than people that make a facebook account for two people. Like Rich-Laura Buttfucker. Holy shit. It's fucking facebook. It doesn't cost you anything. Either make two separate accounts or just use one of your names. "Well, I'm friends with Rich but I'm not really that close with Laura. Oh what's that? It's both of them together? Well then, I'm going to accept that friend request." Stupid fucking morons. I don't understand it. What could you possibly gain by having both of your names there? Am I supposed to be impressed that the two of you are so happy together that you feel the need to only have one account? Go fuck yourselves. I feel safe in assuming that if you have one of these two name profiles that you are in your 30's and as I've already pointed out, your lives are already over. However, if you are that old you probably should not be on facebook. As far as I can tell, facebook has 3 legitimate uses.
1. Most importantly, stalking girls you find attractive. Even if you don't. Every guy knows, and every girl should know by now, that a guy will check out a girl no matter what. NO. MATTER. WHAT. It's hardwired into our DNA or some shit, I'm not a fucking scientist. Facebook stalking. Legitimate use # 1.
2. Making sarcastic comments on people's status updates and liking things that probably shouldn't be liked. For example, today I liked Lindsay Gauthier's status when it said a kindergartener called her a bitch. Should I have liked it? It's a tough call but still, legitimate use #2.
3. Keeping contact with people that you know, but probably don't like that much. For example, I currently have 289 friends. Studies show that you can really only have like 150 people that you genuinely care about. Sorry 139 people, we can be facebook friends but we're not really friends.
So get off facebook you old fucks. You're distracting me from all the stalking I need to accomplish.

Now that my mandatory ranting is out of the way, I can regale you with my adventure to the bank. I went to the aforementioned bank to deposit some checks and to finally open my checking account. So I'm signing some paperwork, not really paying attention to what it says. I may have signed on to make a bukkake. I'm not sure. Whatever. So the lady's talking me through the steps of online bill pay because I guess I look like I'm retarded or something, and she casually asks me if I just graduated because I mentioned that while I was in school I wanted to keep all my money in that high interest savings account. Woohoo, 0.0045% interest. FREE MONEY! So naturally, I tell her yes, I just graduated in May. Then she hits me with, "Wonderful. Do you have any plans for college in the Fall?" Yeah bitch, to not go back. Now, I realized that I have these boyish good looks, but I didn't realize I would be mistaken for someone who's still waiting for their testicles to descend. She then tried to play it off as a compliment, but fuck that shit. Nobody who's 22 wants to hear they look like they're 18. Talk to me when I'm 30 and I look like I'm 23. That's a fucking compliment. Dumb bitch.

My final story involves some outdoor chores. Jon can be the man of the house when it comes to paying bills and stupid stuff like that. I'll be the man of the house when it comes to yardwork and killing spiders. That's right spiders! The reign of Jon the Meek has been replaced by the reign of Bill the Douche. I'M COMING FOR YOU!!! So I decided I was going to remove the weeds from our back patio and around our trees in the front yard. Holy shit. I didn't realize Chuck's house was built on a fucking rainforest. It looked like I had ass-raped a jungle when I was done. Being the thinking man I am, I decided to grab the claw garden tool I stole from my mom's house and twist up the roots I couldn't pull out of the ground. Fuck you roots. You're on notice too. Upon doing so, I noticed a small hornets' nest on one of the cross beams. Deciding that our family didn't need another hornet catastrophe, I went over to the hardware store to grab some hornet blasting shit and some weed killer. It's nice to live close to civilization. Center Street is like 8 hours away from anything useful. Back at the house I quickly learned that hornets do not like being sprayed with my white foam. After that, I gave the perimeter a dousing with weed killer. Tomorrow morning will tell if it worked/I did a a good job applying it. I'll be sure to keep you updated on this thrilling adventure.

That's right Jon. I just shattered the record for longest blog post. Suck on that Frenchie.

-Slick