So I'm tired, hungry, recently molested, but still, all in all, having a pretty good time. Till they tell me what time I'll be making my toast.
See, this is my fourth time as a best man, but I've never actually made a toast before. In two of my previous outings I never had everyone in the same room at the same time. In the third one it was my brother's wedding and it was very informal (and that was a good thing too because I shudder to think what words would have escaped my lips given who he was marrying).
So the toast. The one I spent a month trying to formulate. I was giving it at 6:15 I believe.
The process might have been a bit smoother if people hadn't kept fucking asking me every ten fucking minutes if I'd written the fucking toast yet for a solid fucking MONTH.
At this point it was like every ten seconds.
That helped a whole fucking lot.
But you know, we're mingling, we're eating, we're having a good time...
As chance had it I was seated next to Scott.Dumbass (Scott): “Write your speech yet?”
Me: “Another train of thought derailed...”
Me: “Nothing. I'm just getting hot in this tux.”
Dumbass: “Well take your jacket off.”
Me: “I can't. The jacket covers the fact that my vest has no back.”
Dumbass: “So take off the vest too.”
Me: “Can't. Vest covers the fact that I can't button the bottom two buttons on my shirt due to my lack of an intestinal wall.”
Dumbass: “Well why don't you take off the jacket AND the vest and then put the jacket back on?”
Me: “Because then I'd have to keep the jacket buttoned the rest of the night which would make me way hotter than getting rid of the vest front which is really very small and isn't the real problem here.”
Dumbass: “Well why don't you...”
Me: “I'm fine Scott.”
Dumbass “Yeah, but why don't you...”
Me: “I said I'm fine Scott.”
Dumbass: “Yeah, but if you...”
Me: “I said I'm FINE Scott.”
And then it was zero hour. The last few crucial moments of speech writing time killed by Scott's obsession with giving useful advice despite the fact that he doesn't have any.“Wow. I really don't know what to say. I mean really. I've been trying for a month and I just don't know. I decided right away that I wasn't going to embarrass Brian or make fun of him or just basically make him squirm. And that made it really hard considering that was all my best material. (Pause for laughs) What I can say is that I've known Brian for twenty some years and in that time we've been through a lot of weird stuff. A lot of which I've written about and Kaye has read and I'm still expecting to get thrown out of the building for. (Pause for more laughs) But in all my life I've never seen two people better suited for each other, so everyone, if you will, raise your glasses. To Brian and Andrea, may every day after this one be every bit as happy, but less stressful and taxing and expensive than this one.”
That wasn't verbatim, but it's pretty close. I had the high points in mind I just hadn't put them into any particular order till I was actually saying them.
Those of you who have some insight into how my brain works aren't surprised.
But yeah, I guess I did alright because I got compliments on the toast all night. This meant two things. It meant that my confidence level was fairly high and it meant that I could pull a somewhat scampishly assholian move and probably get away with it.
Within minutes I had my opportunity.
Wednesday was in a small crowd of people off to one side of the cake. Brian and Andrea were out of sight. Time to introduce myself. She was every bit as cool as I was led to believe and I think we hit it off quite well. If I was ten years younger and 200 lbs lighter I really could have made a first grade ass out of myself over her. Me being ancient and bloated though I simply planned to continue having a pleasant conversation till the Bride and Groom (mostly the Bride) caught me at it and festively castrated me with the cake knife.
We kept talking and Brian and Andrea were nowhere to be seen. I wasn't going to complain, but my plans for playfully creepy irritation seemed to be slipping away.
Until...DJ: “At this time we need all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen on the dance-floor for the wedding party dance.”
Everyone else was near the floor already.
Wednesday and I were isolated.
This was PERFECT.
I dance with Wednesday, which would be great in and of itself, plus I get to glide past the Bride and Groom while doing it. Chances are Andrea will retain some composure till the song ends and if I keep an eye on her I'll have a decent chance of making it to an exit before I get an ass full of the bouquet.
So Wednesday and I walk to the dance floor together, we're three steps away from it...
And Sham steps in front of me, takes Wednesday by the arm, and they're on the floor before I can say a word.Mo-THER-FUCKER!
I've already been denied any chance of actually talking to any women all goddamn week, I finally escape the Cock-Block Squad (not that I had any intention of bringing my cock into play with this particular bridesmaid, though I'd have nailed any of the others) and Sham just fucking wrecks it.
Not just that, but my attempt at playful jackassery also went by the boards.
I was dangerously close to behaving myself.
See, I'd have happily gotten to know any of the other bridesmaids but they were all occupied by Mike and his gay hair all week.
Yes, the gay hair phenomenon.
See, Mike recently filed for divorce from the Red Beast of Ohio and as if that wasn't enough (chicks seem to dig newly divorced guys) he had two chicks and a gay guy (Tuesdays at 8 on ABC) give him a makeover. This includes the gay guy giving him his blond highlights which totally don't show up in the only pic I have of him, but they're there.
So he's newly divorced and he kinda looks about half gay. Two things women like. Of the subject, I think women like to hang out with gay guys because they like to go after men that act like they're not interested in them and you don't get less interested in chicks than gay guys.
So Mike occupied the two available females all week. At least, till Sham showed up and they all went after him. Which is kinda funny because, even though he made NO return advances (he's happily married) he inadvertently destroys my delicate machinations.
I think the fact that Sham didn't know what he was doing actually makes it worse. I mean, if my getting shut down were the result of careful planning that would be one thing, but nooooooooooo...
I might as well shave my head and go live on a mountaintop somewhere.
The rest of the evening passed without incident, without further chance to talk to Wednesday, and without opportunity for me to figuratively show my ass.
So I guess that's it. I'll be back soon with everything that's happened since then.
Oh, one last thing, as a capper to the story, after I got back my sister informs me that the insurance company for the stupid bitch that hit me in the Kroger parking lot says she claims that she didn't flee the scene I DID. So I'm preparing to call them the next morning and tell them what bullshit that is when I get a call from THEM.
The woman on the other end all but apologizes to me and says they'll pay everything. Seems that all my witnesses and the security tape AND the police officer I called who took my statement IN THAT VERY PARKING LOT constituted what they call a 'mountain of evidence'.
I hope they prosecute the bitch for insurance fraud.
Peace out bitches.