If, IF, you had to sit in your car, reading the paper*, waiting for your friend in a deadly rainstorm, idling at the feet of WRNR is not a bad place to park yourself. I'm getting the freshest alt-rock wavelengths hot outta the radio tower before anyone else. The signal so pure it's playing through my tie clip and Danish flag lapel pin. JJ Cale = alright. Plus, there's a fudge shop on the first floor of their building. Also, Navy junk. And a fancy hat store for all your fancy midshipping needs.
But that's just today. As of 10am Friday you can leave a message at the with the bleep as we are off to our 364th of 365 weddings this year. We're just like that lady who wrote a play everyday except we roll up with $50-150 worth of gifts, depending on what you forked over for our magical day. This weekends episode is brought to us by the state of New Jersey and it's ice sculpting industry. I've heard they're going to have chilled vodka served out of a frozen Priapus's wang, like that Tyco guy a few years back, only GIANT.
My only concern over this weekend’s rad-ness is that the guest list includes many of the same partiers as last months Maine wedding/wind revelry. It was the same wedding where my masculinity was called to the mat by strange family members in the bathroom.
Three of us were using the facilities and as a spouse of the bride's friend I was the unknown element. But basic loo etiquette did not prevent one far gone drunk asking the lesser drunk if I was cool. I announced to the room that I was very cool and Little Drunk seemed in agreement. If that's so, queried Big Drunk, then why did I need to unbuckle my belt to go to the little bloggers room?
Well, he got me. My first thought was it kept my pants dry but under further review I wondered if I’d been doing it wrong all my life. Similarly, subsequent retellings of this tale has generated mix responses from the lads and has left us wondering “seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” It seems some of us are unbucklers + unzippers and some of us are just unzippers. On this particular wedding night I happened into a bathroom of mere unzippers.
So where does this leave me? No where, really, because my options are either check out other dudes in the john or blog about it. And if you want to know why this whole situation threatened my masculinity it’s because I forgot to mention I was wearing black lipstick** at the time. I’m not sure why this was less bothersome to my stall-mate than the way I take off my pants.
*In the seconds after this picture was taken the dogs broke free and mauled all the people standing in line for their PS3’s. Or I hope they did anyway.
**Technically, it was Eye Black, the stuff football players put on their faces to cut down on glare. But for unresolved reasons I was wearing it on my lips. And if you want to get in even deeper, later I let some girl put real lipstick on me and it turned out it was the Little Drunk’s girlfriend. Man, that was a crazy night.