Save Lando

i heard a little bit of news about the forthcoming nuptials. the seating arrangement. apparently, i hadnt given it any thought, assuming that all the members of the wedding party were going to be seated at the main table. well, you know what they say about assuming things right? damned if they arent right.

i’m not to be seated at the main table with the bride and groom (my mother, and others). i’m to be seated with 2 cousins (1 cool, 1 not), their mother (a bitchy aunt), and her brother (a pretty decent uncle – duh). can someone please tell me how this worked out? and its not like i have a fear of social situations anyway right? why not make things completely wacky and spread everyone out?!

maybe i’m being a candy-ass when i say my feelings are a little hurt by this. it wasnt horrible until i heard my mother is sitting at the main table. the woman who, for the record, abondoned her family 2 years ago to live with some internet guy in virginia. yeah, cause she deserves that. given the stink shes made lately about my father talking to her, i would suggest we find a nice quiet closet to stash her in.

and i swear to god, if i get stuck anywhere near the maid of honors man (Baldy McFuckingDumbass), theres going to be a problem (mostly because there isnt going to be ANY drinking in the church); see: 1.) brain embolism and/or 2.) local obituaries page in newspaper.

remember, “Wish You Were Here” on my tombstone, thats all i’ve ever asked. ok, maybe some flowers on it for my birthday too…

and this story broke when i was posting. brace yourselves.

Richard Simmons slapped some old guy.

one slap? thats it? c’mon Richard! get tough! get mean! get nasty! pull some hair or something. maybe tell him to his face that his jeans make him look fat, or that he’s rocking last years fashions like a street whore. ooh! tell him he’s not a nice person and has a bad haircut!

SOMETHING!

a misdemeanor assault charge is simply not enough. the man dissed “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” with a sarcastic remark!!! you cant let his ass get away with that. ive never seen them, but im sure they’re damn fine videos. whats worse, the man that was slapped is filing suit.

FILING SUIT I TELL YOU!!!

i knew this country was all lawsuit happy but this is ridiculous. fuck it, i’m going to sue everyone that looks at me funny. they hurt my feelings. well, its not that absurd! this guy is suing richard freaking simmons for a slap. and between you and i, seriously, how hard could a richard simmons slap be? my ex prolly slaps harder. there was this one time when she got my ear and it was ringing for an hou….

nevermind all that. it’s inconsequential. all i know is that there’s something horribly wrong with this country. next thing you know, people will be badmouthing fine american cinema like ‘Dawn of the Dead’. heartless, this whole country i tell you…

a landmark moment for ‘Machismo’. He’s watching a guy movie. Someone alert his Testosterone. Driven starring Sylvester Stallone is on. Burt Reynolds too, post plastic surgery.

and thats sad, Burt is/was awesome. ‘Boogie Nights’, ‘Cannonball Run’, ‘Smokey and the Bandit’, ‘The Longest Yard’. all testaments to this mans skill. pissed away on evening shade and shit movies like driven. is material so thin burt that you need to do commercials for maaco and movies about formula one racing?!?!? im sure i can find some dinner theatre here with more prestige. please burt, you dumped Dom, make good movies again, and fix your face for chrissakes.

and Sly. what happened? you used to make such classy fare as ‘Rambo 3′, ‘Rocky 5′, and ‘Stop, or My Mom Will Shoot!’. will we never see ‘Tango and Cash 2′ or ‘Spy Kids in 4D’? words cannot express my dissapointment. it might just be enough to make me go out and see lesser cinema. I heard ‘the Rock’ has a new one coming out, maybe if i drink enough beforehand I’ll enjoy myself.

I can’t decide if this hell is better or worse than the nightmare where he watches ‘Mona Lisa Smile’. hold up, it’s getting better, ‘the Specialist’ is on next.

I’ve been informed that my roommate will not be home the next couple days (part hunting for his car). he is going to Stillwater. question is now, WHO’S COMING OVER FOR A PARTY?!?!?! woooooooooooooooo! um…just bring your own booze, i’m tapped. and if thats not enticing enough, commercials say ‘Cliffhanger’ is on tomorrow.

anyone?

as almost any large functions with my family anymore, it was held in their church. dont worry, i wont start on that again, i dont want anyone else mistaking me for hating jesus again (he always does an awesome job on the lawn, how could anyone hate him?). i run into my stepmom and her mother outside. so, being the good boy i claim to be, helped the senior (slowly) into the room where all was being held. you know you’re getting old when you’re helping an old lady ‘across the street’ and feeling good about it. well, its either that or i’m expecting some merit badge in the mail. i start running around, helping everyone with things that needed to be done, even carried a pregnant womans ‘too heavy’ present in for her.

WHO’S SAYS I’M NOT ‘THE SHIT’?

and as i’m walking back out to help more people, i see her. the maid of honor. years ago, i had a huge crush on her. she would always listen to what you were saying, even if you were some cave-dwelling troll (like i was/am). she had moved away about 5 years ago and got married and divorced, and i havent seen her since. she was walking down the hall carrying a cake and said ‘hello Lando’, and because of the dark hallways and bright outer light (who knew?) i didnt see who it was. when i did i was fairly blown away, the years have been kind to her, she was a beautiful as she ever was, if not more. lucky her. she attempted conversation with me a few minutes later, and like any other time in my life, i fumbled.

so after sitting in the back of the room for a minute, she waved me forward to sit with her. well, her and her cro-mag boyfriend. –ACCESS DENIED– and maybe i’m being a bit silly, but theres some people i cant stand. well, dumbasses for one (which he turned out to be quite proficient in proving he was later on). i havent ranted about young white men shaving their heads yet, and i’ll try not to, but whats the friggin deal? i was the only guy there over 10 and under 30 with a full head of hair. its that whole gold-chain wearing, head-shaving, shake your hand whilst squeezing the life out of the other male in an attempt to prove you have a smaller penis thing. what? c’mon kids, follow me close or you’ll be lost. i decided that back home, he must have an altima he drives like a nascar to compensate for an apparent lack of testicles. what was worse, he did a bad job shaving it, he was scabby around the sides and back. ew. am i being an asshole for saying this?

we sat in the front row, catching up on the last 5 years. was a good time for both of us. my sister and her fiancee donned crowns and played a version of the newlywed game. bulletproof fiancee looked like jughead, many pics were taken. then gorged on cake and punch. and never in my life did i ever think i would be in a social situation where punch was served…without alcohol in it. presents were opened, pictures were taken, Lando was called ’sweet’, cleaning up was done, and everyone went home ‘fat and sassy’ (happy i used that Katrina?).

and because i was a good boy, and nothing bad had happened, my aunt had to ‘cross-check me from the blindside’. carrying the cake out for my sister to take home, my aunt remarked that I had better be watched around that cake. this was the same aunt that make some of the same weight related comments on christmas (for anyone who wants to read back). instead of tossing the cake in her lap and telling her ‘fuck off you frigid old bitch’, i walked out and to the rear of the church, where i could lean alone. spent a few minutes relaxing in the breeze with my eyes closed, trying my best to calm down and not ruin my sisters one and only bridal shower. the sun was warm, and the grass was in fact green, inside (after a few minutes).

i did it. kept my cool. even drove my still-excited sister home. be proud of me.

so i was in church again sunday night. yes, my stepmother was being baptised, and i said i would go to support the family. i do believe in the family, if not some of the families beliefs. I wont fault them for believing in what seems to make them happy (but sometimes not very much fun), but hey, not everyone has the same standards and ideals as you, and i’m told that it makes the world interesting. on that i will agree, to a certain extent.

on to church. looking like dapper dan ready for a long night of disco dancing (just kidding… i hope), i stroll in with sister christian and her fiance. as some of you know, i’m extremely self-conscious. i’m almost always worried about my place, and how i fit. besides a handful of men in their 60’s and yours truly, it seemed everyone was wearing jeans and very comfortable garb. damned if i didnt regret looking good. i sat down and rifled through my uncles altoids, having not eating since early in the am.

after the baptism and a couple minutes commentary on ‘the passion” see last entry), they started the service and the incredibly dull sermon. it was about a word. a freaking word. the word was “Mercy”. but not the english, he was breaking out the hebrew like we getting ready for a bar mitzvah. and from his one hebrew word, he devised no less than 5 different meanings all withing the same train of thought. i was wondering internally if he would rather not focus on the 1,000,000 other words in the book as well. he did not. it was also at this point that i started comparing the church to the natives in ‘the gods must be crazy’, and the whole coke bottle thing.

but he did tell us that we need to let god be in control of our lives, and we need to stop being such control freaks. in the world, i dont know if that statement could ever be misinterperated, all i could think of that moment was letting go of the steering wheel of my car, careening down the highway at 95mph, letting god be in control. my decision? he’d be a shitty driver. but with time he could be ok, i’m offering ‘Machismo’s copy of Nascar Thunder to help in this effort to make him a better driver.

at this point god gave my uncle control, and he sang what turned to be a surprisingly beautiful rendition of some song about killing jesus. i was quite the impressed with my uncle and his incredible falsetto.

but what really ‘chapped my hide’ was when the preacher started going on about how god knows whats true in your heart. how, for the most part, it doesnt matter what you say, or what music you listen to, that god knows whats in your heart and if its true, everything will be fine. so basically he’s saying that you dont need to get all gabby to prove anything. then with his very next sentence says that if you truly are full in the heart (his words not mine) with god, it would be spilling out of you (again, his fantastic visual, not mine). then he went on to blabber about how people need to be vocal about god their faith because it makes him happy to see that.

what?

– INTERMISSION – - PLEASE GO TO CONCESSION STAND –

the only thing i can figure is that mr preacher man has a red phone to the lord. and because of his deep, personal connection, the lord gave the movie 2 thumbs up and told the man to contradict himself for me. so the service ended and my stepmothers family left. mine was fortunate enough to stay for the church business meeting. egads it took forever.

so i twiddle my thumbs, by this time starving for something, be it common sense or a bite to eat. this is where they start talking about ‘the sign’. evidently, one of the church signs had been smashed by vandals on one side and needed to be replaced, with a brand new version of the same sign. the basic info was given in an attempt to move on to the next, more pressing subject. but we couldnt. see, there were scores of questions about a new sign.

well whats it going to look like?

how big is it going to be?

do you think having it lit is a good idea? it might be seen as a target for vandals!

i have to admit, the last guy cracked me up. all i could think to myself was asking ‘is it gonna be a purty sign?’. but watching his ask his question was cause for giggles in itself. see, this man was wearing too tight and small of clothes. like he had some sort of sudden burst of gamma radiation throughout the night and malformed into the current version of himself, you know this guy. the guy in high school that carried around his duffel bag that read oatmeal raisin crunch and smelled bad out of choice. it also didnt help that the question/dungeon master was wearing a fannypack over his girth., undoubtedly filled with nubby pencils and dice.

shortly after we were granted a stay of execution and were allowed to leave. happiness comes with the fact that there is no one left to baptize, therefore leaving my sunday nights free to do something productive (like boozing it up in the shower).