I get to watch a giant tool-bag get married on January 1st! I am so uninterested in weddings based on my being subjected to the same event, devoid of creativity in comparison to the last, at least twice a year since birth. These weddings are reminiscent of a film you may have seen 37 times and you still watch it, almost hoping some new twists pop up. My stomach is already noticeably queasy based on the myriad of forth coming emotionless, brain-dead conversations I will have to endure. I have NothinG in common with any of these people! The gap isn’t generational, it’s 100% social. It’s like Leave it to Beaver meets Pulp Fiction; that’s the most apt description of the social gap I can make. Just thinking about the level of conformity they’re gleaming with makes me squint. It’s not that I hate them; I just know they think of me as a dirt-bag… And that’s a tasty thought!
Approaching this event I forgot to become successful again. I also have no date; I lost my hot Asian girlfriend, and haven’t been able to find a Suicide Girl to replace her in time for this shit.
These are the events I look forward to “groundhog daying” at this wedding…
1. Arguing with my dad that dancing to Abba’s Dancing Queen is tantamount to me raping myself.
2. Four dozen unnecessarily strong handshakes. I wonder what Chuck Liddell thinks when this shit happens…
3. How much goddamn Vermouth did he put in this?
4. Four dozen different people who know what I should do in life not hesitating to give me unwanted advice.
5. Why can’t you play “Manic Depression”? Isn't This is a wedding?
So, in summation: I look forward to a magically uninteresting evening with a hangover brought on by self pity. I will shake hands with insecure adult males! I will drink the shittiest martini on earth! I will not dance to Dancing Queen! These events will happen, and I will once again be a spectator to this circus of conformity.
Lex
Or you could fake sick.
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