Tomorrow, at 5:01 PM, I start my last weekend as a single man. Since I base my entire life around what I've seen in movies, I look forward to losing the wedding rings, getting deported, and killing a hooker (on accident). Unfortunately for everyone but the hooker, that's not the way it's going to go down. In true CWMP fashion, I'm going to buy some barstools and then find and deface the appropriate toy for my Halloween prop.
My life has been dominated by the wedding for the past several weeks. Originally, I was thinking, "Oh man, all of my friends and family are coming out to this thing so it better be great." And now that I've put a lot of work into it, I no longer worry about making a great event for friends and family. Friends and family, if you're at the wedding and you're not just tickled pink, shut the hell up. If anyone needs to enjoy this wedding, it's the people who put all of the work into it. In fact, if you're just showing up to the wedding and someone who's actually been workng on the wedding asks you to change their oil or give them a haircut or mulch something, just do it. We've earned it.
In terms of the actual marriage itself, I'm not that anxious. In fact, if there were a witchdoctor going door-to-door giving out free weddings, I'd sign us up and make this thing happen ASAP. For me, moving in together was a lot more terrifying than getting married. The idea of sharing all of my space and all of my time with someone was a little daunting. Once we got that part done though, marriage wasn't so bad at all. We just keep doing what we're doing AND people give us presents AND we save money on taxes? Let us wed!
Expect posting to be rather light for the next couple of weeks, as I have a wedding to hyperventilate over.
The big source of anxiety right now is the music. When we were discussing the wedding originally, I was not hip to the idea of a DJ: if there's going to be some jerk playing awful music at the wedding, I want to be that jerk.
As a lover of music, it's a great idea. The problem is, wedding receptions are long. Really, really long. I am going to have to shave midway through this wedding reception or else I'll walk out of it with a big ZZ Top beard. I've started telling my doctor and dentist that, for regularly scheduled appointments, they should just meet me at the reception.
In getting all of these lengthy playlists ready, I've listened to so much music that I have no idea what I like anymore. It's like saying a word over and over again until it sounds like gibberish. I'm so out of touch with my musical taste, I could probably bust a move to Wolf Blitzer right at this very moment.
I think I came up wiht a little mindhack for getting around this, though. For dancing songs, I just imagine that I'm hanging out at Barry White's house. It's just me and Barry and a few other happening people at his house, drinking sherry, and I say, "Hey Barry, check this out," as I drop some tunes on. If it seems like Barry White wouldn't throw sherry in my face over that song, it stays on the playlist.
I have a lot going on with this wedding dealie. The biggest of my tasks, and I say that cautiously because I'm probably forgetting something crucial like OH GOD THE WEDDING RING, is creating the favor for our wedding. You know how some intelligent people choose a mass-produced good for their wedding favor, and then they can just write a check for $2 each and forget about the whole thing? Friends, we are not those people.
Not only can we not mass-produce this special gift, but a lot of thought has to be put into the design of it. I know what you're thinking the favor is: custom gold medallions for each guest. You're close; a gift like that would really combine my love of shiny things and going broke. But no, it's something better. Unfortunately, making something good often takes time.
Anyway, on to crazier matters. Do you ever wake up from a scary dream to find yourself about to scream loudly? Perhaps you're yelling a little bit, but you're just warming the pipes up to really scream it up?
I had something like that last night, where I dreamed that Gollum from Lord of the Rings was lose in the house. Just as I was getting the GGGEEEEE part of my planned "GET OUTTA HERE!" yell, Laura woke me up and asked what the hell was wrong with me. If there's anything to learn here, I guess it's that, when you think Gollum has snuck into your house, verify before launching into your night terrors.
Big day tomorrow, as we go to get our marriage license. I thought this required a blood test, just to prove that the union wouldn't result in heinous abominations offensive to nature. It looks like that's no longer the case here in Texas. The powerful sister-marryin' lobby got their act together and got family marriage legalized. Uhhh, congrats?
Once we get the license, I think we can just get married the next time we're around an officiant. That'd be kinda funny, I think, if we planned out this whole elaborate wedding, only to get secretly married by a notary public in the Chicken Express parking lot. I imagine that's only kinda funny to me, though, and decidedly less humorous to the people spending money on this wedding. That's why I'm not going to put this plan into action, even if I do find myself with Laura, a notary, and the marriage license in a Chicken Express parking lot.
I don't know if anyone reading this has seen the Fearless Freaks, that documentary about the band the Flaming Lips. One major chunk of the movie is how Wayne Coyne, the lead singer of the band, has been making this movie called Christmas On Mars in his backyard for several years. That's my kind of rock star; skip out on the cocaine and women in order to make a surreal sci-fi movie about Santa Claus.
Anyway, this weekend is pretty exciting because, on Saturday, Zyvarb and I are actually going to the premiere of Christmas on Mars. Not only that, but Wayne Coyne will be there! It's not out of the question to assume I'll be a member of the band come Sunday morning. Yes, I will remember the little people should this occur.
Yes, I am excited. At the same time, I expect this movie to be pretty bad. Come on, folks, did you even read the plot description?
If you live in Texas, you're not a felon, and you haven't yet registered to vote, do so! Wait, if you're some dumb butt who's going to cancel my vote out, don't follow that link! There's a special voter registration form for you. It can be found... here. Just punch a few numbers in and whammo, you've voted!
As a number of you probably know, I always vote for a weirdo third-party candidate for President. Usually, their big stances are "I promise to blow up the Federal Reserve myself following inauguration" or "I will correct the USA's problems through mandatory national transcendental meditation." It's more of a statement vote, so I don't really get worked up about the election.
This year, though, things are so screwed up that I feel like I must temporarily suspend my ridiculous political stances to support someone of actual substance. Weirdos who wish to give Alaska back to Russia, I'm sorry that you may no longer count on my vote.
I'm having a hard time making up my mind, though. Yes, Sarah Palin reminds me of the bitchy lady who dominates the Neighborhood Watch meetings. Yes, John McCain may very well think he's running against William Howard Taft. I'm not sure I buy into Obama's "Let's Make Government Awesome" plan, though. He himself is a charismatic, awesome dude, but can he really stock the post office and DMV with similar people?
In times like these, it helps to find someone crazy and do the exact opposite. Only one of these candidates has the weirdos of the world united in the belief that he's a Muslim anti-Christ out to turn Monticello into Bin Laden's pleasure mansion. If Obama's got all of these people that mad, then he is doing something right in my book. Congrats Barack, you have won my temporary support.