Monday, September 23, 2013
Specifically, we were trading stories of the “weirdest” weddings we ever went to.
I don’t want to brag, but I think I won.
In the Summer of 92, I was dating a wonderful young lass named Maria. Maria was cute, nice, and quite hot. She was also as dumb as a box of rocks, but hey, I never discriminated against the mentally impaired. Plus, did I mention she was hot?
Anyway, Maria had one more thing stacked against her….. she came from the TRASHIEST of white trash families. Seriously. She made Honey Boo Boo look like a fucking debutante.
Anyway, I had only been dating her for a few weeks, and I had never met any members of her family yet, when she asked me to go with her to her sister’s wedding. Being the perfect boyfriend, I of course said “Sure!”, never realizing just how badly I was going to regret my decision.
The fun started when I picked Maria up, and noticed that she had a nasty scratch on her face and a bruise on her shoulder. Rocketing into protective ‘boyfriend’ mode, I asked her who’s ass I needed to kick to right this grievous wrong.
She didn’t answer me, but after some more prodding while we drove to the wedding, she finally admitted to me that the person who banged her up was her sister. Not the sister getting married, but sister #3.
The story she then told me went like this: The bride to be was marrying a black man, and certain members of her family really wanted to keep the “White” in “White Trash” and were forbidding her from going through with the wedding. The most vocal of them was sister #3 who, on the morning of the wedding, had some words with the bride that quickly escalated into a knock down brawl. Maria jumped in to try to stop it, but before long all three of them were beating on each other.
Now, if they were all in sexy underwear and started to make out with each other in the middle of it, it would have naturally have been a huge turn on, but since none of that actually happened, the whole mess seemed quite sad.
Anyway, we arrived at the wedding, which I learned was being held in the backyard of the groom’s family’s house. We were joined about 30 minutes later by the mother of the bride, Maria’s mom. She sure seemed like a nice lady, but I have to question a woman who comes to her oldest daughter’s wedding holding a pack of Camel’s and wearing a housedress. I heard her say some wonderfully racist things that made me squirm before she sat her ass down and waited for the wedding to begin.
We quickly sat down on some folding chairs and the wedding procession began. As the bride walked down the aisle, I couldn’t help but noticed that she had a HUGE black eye and scratches down her arm. My coy date leaned over to me to let me know, “That wasn’t from me.. that was my sister’s work!”
Anyway, it was a beautiful scene. The bride, bruised and bloodied, walked slowly down the aisle, the groom stood eloquently in his white tuxedo, when suddenly, from inside the house, the wedding march song suddenly got cut off, instantly replaced by a wonderful ditty by the group N.W.A.
I shit you not.
Not being a connoisseur of their fine work, I can’t tell you the exact name of the ballad that blasted the wedding reception from one of the bedroom windows, but I can tell you that there were 4-letter words in abundance, and I specifically recalled the lyrics “Go fuck Whitey”. Ah, the memories.
Apparently, the groom’s little brother was as happy about this lovely union as the bride’s sister was, so he decided to change up the play list to show his displeasure.
The rest happened very fast.
I heard the groom’s father yell “Son of Bitch! That little bastard!”, and race off into the house.
Then I heard the sound of a scuffle from within the house, followed by the sudden scratch of a CD being yanked from its player.
That was followed by the groom’s brother running from the house, dressed in shorts and a wife-beater, being chased by his dad, wielding a baseball bat.
THAT scene caused the rest of the families, just like the Hatfields and McCoys, to quickly take sides and join in the fray.
What happened next cannot honestly be explained, at least not by me.
In short, a fight broke out of EPIC proportions. Punches were thrown. Chairs were launched. Food was massacred. At one point I was hiding behind a shrub with the priest.
If you put the scene into fast motion it would have looked like one of those old black and white movies where everyone gets into a big pie fight. Except, instead of pies, people were throwing Spare Ribs and Chicken wings.
Anyway, in the end, cooler heads prevailed (or maybe there was just no more food to throw), but the happy bride and groom got married after all, and I went home vowing to NEVER GO OUT WITH THIS BITCH AND HER CRAZY FAMILY AGAIN!
Of course, as I mentioned at the beginning, she was hot, so I broke half of that promise before too long, but that, my friends, is a blog tale for another day…..
Scrawled by Slyde at 9/23/2013 04:34:00 PM
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
I think comedian Patton Oswalt is pretty damn funny. I never really watched King of Queens, but i've always liked his stand-up and his bit parts when he was getting his start on Reno 911.
Anyway, Oswalt was a recurring character on KoQ, and as the story goes, they had him in this bit "birthday party" scene, but they gave him no lines and nothing to do, so he decided to just fuck around and see if he could get away with doing, well, literally NOTHING for the entire scene.
And NOTHING is exactly what he did. He didn't talk. He didnt move. He didn't blink. Hell, I'm not even sure if he was breathing, but watching this clip makes me laugh and creeps me out at the same time.
I just find it extremely funny that no one paid enough attention to notice what he was doing and to not let this go out on TV as the final cut.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Having a wife AND a DVR just dont mix.
When I decide to record something on the DVR, it is because i have a desire to, you know, actually WATCH IT.
Funny how that works, right? I record a movie, and then, within the next few days, i sit my tight, toned ass down on my couch and watch it. When i'm done watching it, i delete it.
I'm pretty sure that's how the DVR was designed to be used.
But Friz just doesn't use it that way, and it REALLY pisses me the fuck off.
The first problem is that she records EVERYTHING. She records shit that she regularly watches, shit that she has never watched but a friend told her was good, shit that she knows absolutely NOTHING about but it has a cool title, EVERY piece of shit that they throw on the Lifetime channel.......
As i said, thats annoying as hell, but what REALLY gets my goat is that SHE NEVER FUCKING WATCHES ANY OF IT!!!!
It just sits on the DVR for months and months. Every time i ask "Hey, are you ever going to watch this shit?", I always get the same answer of, "Yes, dont delete that!"
So the DVR just fills up with more and more crap.
What REALLY pisses me off is that every damn time i walk into the den, she is just channel surfing while mumbling that there is nothing good on. Nothing good on? How about perusing through the 14,000 hours of complete nonsense that you feel the need to save!!! It drives me batty.
Right now, the oldest offenders on my DVR are last year's season finales of Greys's Anatomy and Two and a Half Men. Two shows that i don't watch. Two shows that i hate. Two shows that you would have to staple my penis to my coffee table to get me to sit through.
But there they stay, forever clogging up my DVR and greeting me with their names every time I try to see what we have recorded.
And of course, the WORST part is that these shows are filling up my hard drive space, when i could be using that precious space for good, quality programming that i enjoy.
If i miss one more episode of The Bad Girls Club because of this shit, i think i'm going to cry.
Scrawled by Slyde at 9/12/2013 01:58:00 PM
Thursday, September 05, 2013
My birthday was this week. I've spoken before about my crazy fear of birthdays, and of getting older. I know I've babbled about it dozens of times. Here and Here are two examples.
I'm not sure what it is about getting older that scares the shit out of me. Maybe its that whole "dying" part?
It's just very strange because i really have no fear of anything else in my life except the idea that every year i inch closer to death.
And it's really odd which birthdays bother me. I was SURE that turning 30 would kill me, but in the end, it was no big deal. Turning 36 REALLY bothered me, but that was because my first serious girlfriend was 36 and at the time, i thought 36 was OLD, so when i turned 36 myself, i kinda freaked out alittle. 40 Really bothered me, too.
And this week, i turned 45. 45 scares me. A lot. I can no longer tell people that i am in my EARLY 40's. The term "Mid-40's" makes me want to poop myself. Also, i was thinking about it the other day and i came to the conclusion that there is a very real chance that i have now lived more of my life that i have life left to live. I cannot explain to you how bowel-watering frightening that is to me.
I don't know why the concept of getting older scares me so damn much, but i fight the aging process every damn day. I am always trying to stay active, and i work out like a fiend. I can honestly say that i am currently in the best shape of my life but no matter how much weight i lift or how many miles i climb on the StairMaster, the clock still keeps fucking ticking.
If i was going to analyze myself, i think that the roots of my hatred of aging had to do with the fact that i have the worst possible birthday a kid could ask for. I have a friend who's birthday is the day before Christmas, and she always bitches that is a shitty birthday to have because she often gets jipped on presents, but i will hold my ground and attest that mine is worse.
My Birthday is on September 2nd, which fell on Labor Day this year.
Think about that for a second. As a kid, my birthday almost ALWAYS fell on the last day of Summer vacation. Here I was, a young Slyde enjoying his summer, and every time i thought of my upcoming birthday, I had to remember that the next day started another shitty year of school! I spent almost all of my birthdays watching the fucking Labor Day Jerry Lewis telethon, dammit!
Do you know how many people would get me "Back to School" clothes for my birthday? Fuckers.......
Anyway, i am now officially 45, which sucks.
But on the bright side, i still look fabulous and am hung like a donkey, so that's gotta count for something.....