Monday, August 4, 2008

The Rhythm Method

The wedding day? Set
all guests accounted for? Yep
Is Smeagol there? Nope

So last summer my sister calls me out of the blue. With love in her heart and cheese on her breath she informs me that she is going to get married, and asks that I give her away. While I am truly honored, I know for a fact that her real father was not only not dead, but living less than 50 miles away, so I gently, diplomatically ask "Whaddafuxuppwiddat?" (Desmond ask a black person if you need help reading that, you will know who to ask as he/she will be eating "greens")

Apparently she would rather not have her dad meet her new hubby, which is fine by me bearing in mind certain details about him which I will refrain to put into print. I graciously accept, and get ready to ogle all manner of bridesmaid's boobage, as this was to be a Renaissance wedding, nay one of my very favorite dressing periods: The boobs, on full display, codpieces, mandatory!

Anyway, like all great things in life, this one as well comes with a caveat: I was not allowed to tell ANYONE in my family, as she was afraid either Mystical Retard, Mystery, or Smeagol would show up and she recognized their powers to ruin any social occasion. As far as my mother, she is a great lady, don't get me wrong. But it has been argued by scholars and experts alike that even though she is no longer on the pipe that holds crack she is still as strange as she had been whilst on said pipe. My mom has always been a little....eccentric. Ask Smeagol and that description turns to bugfuck insane. Ask my mom and she will grab your package.

Although it almost kills me inside to not tell anyone, I do as I am asked, and show up at the wedding to also see my aunt, fresh from the incident with the shit on the couch (or maybe not, I don't care to check my dates. I just like bringing that up whenever possible) and in full annoyed-with-whitey mode. I love her for that. Not that I condone it, but she is consistent, never faltering in the onslaught of oppressiveness she perceives, always toiling away in the daily struggle to not fall victim to the forced communication skills her idiot managers try to pimp her out to... even I fell victim to an extent, getting a diploma in communication skills, which did not help me come raise time or at any of our managerial meetings I learned to love and covet, much less when I brought it up in team meetings (though those always led to good times)...

More later.

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