Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Mr. Magic Wedding Stegosaurus, Send Me A Dream!

  Make my wedding the easiest and stress-free event that I've ever seen!

  The wedding is happening in just under 9 months.  Not that I'm counting days.  Or hours.  Assuming everything goes according to plan, our friends and family will witness M and I get married at a summer camp just north of Winnipesaukee on the Center Harbor / Moultonborough line.  It's called Camp Quinebarge.  And they have a lot of stuff.  And a lot of things.  M & I?  Also have a lot of stuff.  And a lot of things.  And a group of friends the size of Pennsylvania.  And a contingent of family the size of two Pennsylvanias.  M's mother is 1 of 2,000 and her dad is 1 of 47.  That's a lot of tantes and oncles.

  I'm not even worried about the normal things one worries about when planning a wedding; Chocolate fountains, ice luges, ice cold chocolate milk dunk tanks, etc.  I'm mostly worried about the guest list.  How on EARTH have all you people done this?  More importantly, how is someone like ME supposed to do this?

1.  I have attachment issues.  In that, I feel attached to every single person, pet and mineral I've ever met.  In my life.  Ever.  And I want to invite all of them/it.  Grade school, middle school, high school & college classmates.  Aunts.  Uncles.  Cousins.  Second Cousins.  Nephews.  Nieces.  Teachers.  Co-workers.  Old roommates.  Bus drivers.  Living pets (Niko & Misha), former refugee pets (Chef Chen Kenichi), & dead pets (Baby Girl, Lucy, Zoe, etc. - don't worry, my mother's been storing their ashes for years just for such an event).  Swim lesson instructors.  Movie theater concession workers.  Crossing guards.  Amazing Spider-Man #334.  Camp counselors.  My Happy Meal Toys.  Hawaiian Tropic Suntan Lotion (it smells so coconutty!)  Sunday School teachers.  The entirety of Zach's Trivia Night Trivia Teams.  My prizewinning cantaloupe as optical nerve project from sophomore Biology.  That's just the tip of the pathological ice berg!  Why, I even want to invite . . .

2. . . . people/things that I DON'T know!  Like the cast of Freaks and Geeks, NewsRadio & The State.  The writing staff of the A.V. Club.  The Chipmunks.  Neve Campbell (so she can cough uncomfortably when Rick asks if "anyone should have any reason that Party of Five stars should marry Zach instead, speak now or forever hold your peace").  Jack Bristow.  Evangeline Lilly.  Kermit the Frog.  Mrs. Peacock.  The Ghost of the Old Man in the Mountain.  Don Draper & Roger Sterling.  Wally the Green Monster.  Brian Daubach.  The Baseball Diamond from The Great Muppet Caper.  SuperGrover.

     But we simply CAN'T invite everyone/thing on my dream guest list.  Sigh.  I mean . . . it's just . . . double sigh.  There's just not enough room in the barn / cabins / archery course / camouflage canoes!  Well . . . except for you Brian Daubach.  I'll never cut you from the list!  NEVER!  

3.  Most parties I've ever attended / held follow a pretty similar pattern.  I make an entrance (grand or otherwise).  Then I mingle a bit.  Then I pull a "Houdini" and am found hours later either a.) playing video games in some side room, b.) talking on the phone in some side room, c.) passed out in some side room, or d.) dancing/singing to Starship's "We Built This City" in some front room.  All but possibly Choice D are unacceptable options for one's own wedding.  M has already told me that I'm not allowed to "take off" at any point during the reception.  If Tom & Huck are allowed to watch the own funeral from above, then shouldn't I be allowed to watch my own wedding from the lake?  All underwatery except for my nose and up?  And then I'd spring forth at an opportune time (perhaps between the best man and the comptroller's speeches?) and everyone would rejoice and I'd plunge a jagged rock into the synthetic heart of my clone that I had created for this exact situation.  My clone would look at me with a cyber tear in his eye and he'd whisper - so only I could hear - "It was you.  You were the real one all along.  It was always you."  And I'd whisper back - so only he, and maybe anyone within a 4 foot radius, could hear - "I know, handsome.  I created you.  It was never a question.  They never knew until it was too late how to tell the difference between us.  The freckles on your right arm form Orion's Belt while mine form the Dippers Big & Little.  It was so simple it was genius if I do say so myself to myself."  And then there'd be about 2 minutes more of rejoicing.  And then cannolis would be served in the shape of a Sachem.  And the comptroller would award me with the, "2nd Best Semi-Underwater Surveillance Award"!  (Frederick would win 1st prize because he fell asleep under the dock.)

4.  According to Wii Fit I need to lose between 50 - 70 pounds between now and then.  That's . . . a lot of pounds.  That only gives me 38 weeks!  (Not that I'm counting.)  2.1 lbs a week?!  Who does the Wii think I am, some sort of reverse vampire Paula Deen?!  [For those of you who ate too much paste as a child, reverse vampire Paula Deen cooks only with rootmarm, not the copious amounts of lard that butter vampire Paula Deen uses.]  I'm thinking of weighing in on the Wii Fit next time while holding Misha and then not using the Misha the time after that.  Instant 22 lbs. loss!  Huzzah!  Well, writing a blog isn't going to help me lose the poundage.  So I guess I better get my special Wii Boots on and apply the special Wii Warming Lotion and get to work. 


  1. Where do I begin? Well, for one, put down that Twinkie! I can tell you've had too much sugar and I'm going to tell the bees where you live. Two, is this your way of telling me that I'm not invited? It's pretty sneaky to set up a secret blog months in advance and then tell only me about it so I would "stumble" upon your dilemma and volunteer not to come and if I didn't, but didn't get an invitation I would (a) not notice because I had forgotten all about the wedding, or (b) not be surprised because I had read your secret blog. Well, fie to that, my friend, I say, "Fie!" I won't give in to your well thought out plan. I'm going to crash your wedding and then you'll be worse off because you know you have to tell the caterer ahead of time if you're inviting biggies, and they will charge you double extra for having to feed me unexpectedly. Three, normally you could blow off most coworkers because you won't even remember them in 10 years, but that doesn't work so well with you. I think you can safely leave Jim, Michael, and JV off the coworker list, and probably even Karen, though you may have to quit the Wallakers for good if you do that. There will be an aftermath. (Pls edit if this is open to GW-eyes. Wallakers-eyes, they're watching you. They see your every move.) I think I have more points for you but I have to go, so you may get another comment in the future. Also, please please please be sure to invite the whole Hawaiian Tropic line - they are my favorite smelling guests.

  2. I knew you'd be 100% behind the Hawaiian Tropic line. Bad News: JV is my blog editor. She's sharpening her tendrils now.


Be respectful! Or I'll tell the bees where your grape soda is located!