This one might also come as a surprise. Aside from handing over the ring when you are told to do so, there isn't really much you have to do as the best man except stand up at the altar and look handsome.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
3) Hold the ring.
I know. You'd think this one would be the easiest. Easier than making a speech, right?
Not for me.
As soon as I was handed the ring, I felt as if I was entrusted with the sole object that would save the world from the Armageddon. I immediately tucked it away into the safe confines of my breast pocket. But within seconds of putting it in my pocket, I began mentally evaluating the security of my pocket and the craftsmanship in which it was sewed. Surely, if there was a faulty breast pocket out there in the world, it would be mine. I could actually feel the stitching begin to come undone. The pocket simply couldn't handle such a burden, weighed down not by the weight of the ring but by the consequences of what it would mean to lose it.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Another one of my friends is biting the dust on Friday.
He is getting married.
This is the first of four weddings that I am attending in the next few months, but the second wedding in a year's time in which I am the best man.
But I do them well.
Monday, June 25, 2012
If you fall asleep now, you will get 6 hours and 20 minutes of sleep.
Preferably, you would like to get eight hours, but you will still function with just under seven hours.
Why is that this always happens when you have something important to do in the morning? For the entire day, you thought about what time you needed to go to bed. About how important it was to get a full-night's rest so that you would be ready to go tomorrow. And in that respect, your entire day was ruined, as you constantly had thoughts of tomorrow's misery in the back of your head.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
To illustrate how epically this guy failed, here is just one example of the things they talked about. This particular example came in the beginning of the Phillies game, while he was still at his lowest point of drunkenness.
In the row in front of him, a father turned around and gave him the eye. It was apparent that he didn't appreciate his loud and frequent use of expletives so close to his children.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
My mom is a hardcore Phillies fan. One of her most prized possessions is a gift that I got her a few years ago -- a walkman. If the Phillies are playing, you can bet your ass that she has those headphones on and is listening to the game. Anytime we talk on the phone or I go to visit, she is always complaining or rejoicing about the team, whatever the case may be. Recently, it has been mostly complaining. But even when they are losing, she is a die-hard fan.
For such a big fan of the team, however, she rarely goes to any games. Maybe once a season. And when my parents do go to games, they typically sit very high-up.
Monday, June 18, 2012
If you've read my blog before or know me in real life, you know that I am not much of a go-getter when it comes to hitting on girls or trying to get their phone numbers. My quiet and seemingly unemotional persona caters to more of a love-him-once-you-get-to-know-him type of courting. And I'm fine with that.
Friday, June 15, 2012
|"...and then my face grew flush, for the McDonald's|
cashier was laughing at me upon taking notice that
the drawstring of my pantaloons was not securely
As if I haven't been busy enough with moving, work, and this blog, I decided to get involved in another project.
But I have to admit, I am pretty excited about it.
It is called Dude Write, and it is a way for male bloggers to come together to burp and fart, and to share some of our work with each other.
It might seem like treehouse politics to say "no girls allowed," but men are in the minority in the blogosphere, so it will be a great place for guys to expose themselves to each other.
Err... I probably should have worded that better. But you get what I'm saying.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
For the next thirty minutes, cutting my hair became a secondary task. Occasionally, she would do some work, taking a small section off here and another small section off there. But her primary goal, it seemed, was to get to know me better. She often leaned against her counter, the clippers still buzzing through the air as she talked with her hands.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
A bald man sat at a little island in the front entrance. "Hello!" he said.
"Hi, how are you?" I asked. The pizza was still settling in my stomach, but at this point I was on autopilot.
|I used to love this woman.|
Monday, June 11, 2012
A little while back, I wrote about how I was offended when a hairdresser asked to "take care" of my eyebrows.
You can go back and read it, but if you decide not to, all you need to know is that, bushy as they may be, I sure as hell wasn't about to let anyone trim them.
Until the other day.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
I went into McDonald's today.
I had a hankering for a milkshake.
“Welcome-to-mcdonalds-can-i-help-you” the cashier said, without giving inflection or emphasis to any of the words. She said this greeting to nobody in particular, apparently, as she stared through me with droopy eyes.
For the sake of this story, I shall call her “Tanisha.”