Showing posts with label Weddings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weddings. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

One More Quick Wedding Story . . .

It was a really great day, while I can't tell you the best moment, I can tell you the moment I laughed the hardest.

One of Mrs. Noisewater's good friends from back in the Bay Area is a fun-loving guy like me.  We spent the Thursday before the wedding with a big group of people at the Oakland A's game.  It was less than 1/3 full in there and quiet.  This guy and myself were easily the loudest people in the whole place.  I distinctly remember looking around to find that my sister and all of my nephews had been gone for the remainder of the game.  I asked my sister the next time I saw her if I was swearing or being offensive.  She said, "No, you were being nice.  You were just really loud."  And so it was with this wedding guest and myself for most of that ballgame . . .

(We also enjoyed a sparsely populated tailgate in the parking lot.  This isn't us.  These are less cool randoms off of Google Images)
So at the wedding, later in the evening after all of the speeches and dances were done and people were just cutting loose, our favorite guest (picture a curly haired short Italian man, like a young Joe Pesci) stops me as I'm walking across the room and says the following:

"Hey, Ken.  Great party.  I want to give you your gift right now (he hands me a folded up 100 dollar bill).  This is what I always do at weddings.  No, I didn't get you a card.  You don't need a card, right?   You'll get a ton of them!  And I certainly didn't get you anything on your stupid registry.  I don't even know where you're registered.  Fuck your registry!  You don't need any of that shit!  Here's a hundred bucks.  Do whatever you want with it.  Spend it all tonight at the bar, put it up your nose (I think he meant like cocaine).  I don't care!  Anyway, like I said.  Great party.  Thanks for having me.  See you around"

"Great party!"
It's when he said "put it up your nose" that I really started dying laughing.  Come to think of it, there were a few moments where I was laughing my ass off, like during my best man's (Heterosexual Life Partner's) speech.  Maybe I'll post about that next.

Anyway, have a good day, friends.  And don't go putting your money up your nose.

Monday, August 17, 2015

I have a few more weeks of vacation to enjoy, and I'm spending a little time right now at a place called Heritage Bikes in Chicago where you can get coffee and get your bicycle fixed.  At least I think they'll work on your bike because there are bikes everywhere in this joint.  Anyway, I thought it would be a good day sit outside enjoying the weather with a cup of coffee and catch up on blogging.

A few things . . .

1. So, I got married on August 1st.  When I started this blog back in 2005, I was fresh off a divorce that left me pretty scared and confused.  I thank any and all readers who have been along for any part of me documenting my misadventures in dating and other things.  It has all led me to the right lady, and I'm very happy.

We got married in San Francisco.  Mrs. Noisewater's grandfather volunteers on a ship on Fisherman's Wharf, the very boat he served on during the Normandy Invasion in World War II.  They fired off the cannons when we were pronounced man and wife, it was all pretty awesome, and everyone had a great time.  

I'll never forget waiting in my tuxedo for the "first look" photo, which in case you don't know (because I didn't until a couple weeks ago) is the photo session of the bride and groom right when they see each other for the first time before the actual wedding.  I was standing on a pier facing the bay with my back turned to my bride coming towards me (it all reminds me of some ancient Greek mythology), when this cool black man walks by and says to me "Damn, you look debonair as fuck!"  I have had a lot of compliments in my day, but I doubt I will get one with such a perfect blend of robust vocabulary, profanity, and a perfect delivery.

That's an actual picture from the big day.
2.  The honeymoon was relaxing, beautiful, and a downright love fest in Maui.  I hadn't ever been to Hawaii, and if it weren't for the fact that it's really expensive, I would probably go every year.  We signed up for a tour where a van picks you up from your hotel at 2AM and drives you up a volcano.  They give you jackets and gloves and things because it's freezing way up there, and then you watch the sun come over the horizon right at eye level.  It was pretty incredible.  You are then given bicycles and a helmets and you coast on your bike down the volcano!  We got dropped off back at the hotel at 12PM, and it was like, "What do we do now?  We've already biked down a volcano before noon!"

Here's a volcano crater sunrise pic from the internet that is better than the ones I took on my crummy phone.
 3. The other night my bride and I cooked a nice meal together and opened up a good bottle of wine.  We were looking for something to watch and she says, "Why don't we watch this beach volleyball match that you taped?"  I got the right lady.  She's awesome.  Awesome "as fuck," as a matter of fact.

This isn't us.  But this is how I felt after her DVR choice.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Anyone Need a Karate Announcer?

I know this crazy son of a gun who used to be a prison guard and now does security at a school.  He is all of 5'5" but is intense as hell and a scary ass drill sergeant when he needs to be.  This guy also teaches karate at the school, and he asked me if I would be a judge for a karate tournament.  I tried to respectfully decline do to the fact that I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to karate.  His response was hilarious and was this:

"Yeah, but when you see a fight, you know which guy got his ass whipped, right?"

Okay, by that definition I guess I'm a karate judge.



When I got there there was another security guard struggling through his soundcheck on the microphone in an attempt to warm up as the announcer.  He asked if I would swap roles with him.  In my estimation announcing was a way safer bet because as the judge I might have parents pissed off that I picked their kid's opponent.  And with that brilliant trade I made a switch to become the MC for the evening.

I got into the swing of things pretty quickly with my commentary.  When I didn't know what was going on in a match, I just defaulted to pointing out how hard one of the kids was trying with lines like, "Isn't he a scrapper, folks?  Let's give him a hand!"

If it was a back-and-forth tussle, I would say "We got a scrap here, ladies and gentlemen!"  The kindergarten division was particularly cute, by the way.

Just before the judges' decisions I would say something to the effect of "That was a closely contested bout.  It will be interesting to see how the judges scored this one."  Then the four judges would flip their flags to the white or red flag for which opponent won in their uninformed opinions.  It probably would have made more sense to have an odd number of judges, but whatever.  In the result of a tie there was only one way to settle it . . . Who can do more push-ups?!  I'm serious.  So then I counted out the push-ups on the mic and commented on who's arms were shaking and who was losing the integrity of their push-up form.  The organizers of this event were winging it, and I was improvising what the hell to say about it.  It was a blast.

My air time on the mic got me warmed up for my third reverend gig that I had on the upcoming weekend (I got "ordained" online to officiate weddings for friends).  My good buddy, Southie got married, and I was happy to help him out  Just like every other time, I was nervous.  I wasn't sure how I did when I wrapped it up, but I got nothing but compliments all night long.  They weren't just people who bumped into me at the bar and felt a need to say something - many made a point to come up to me for the sole purpose of saying how great they thought the ceremony was.  It felt really good to know that I made the couple's special day even better and managed to entertain and please so many guests.

The reverend rides again.  And I hope the karate announcer sweeps the leg again because that was hilarious.

Thursday, June 04, 2015

Anyone ever hear "'Da Butt" by E.U.?  I heard it on my bike ride home from work today and started laughing my ass off at this line: "If you get that notion get your backfield in motion."

I'm going to say something right now: That is singlehandedly the best line ever about American football, booty shaking, or combinations thereof.

The minute I got home I added it to our wedding playlist.  This was a point of contention, but to compromise I'm going to give the d.j. a time to fade it out midway through the song, likely just after that backfield line . . .

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Mr. and Mrs. Noisewater's Love Story

This is the story of the meeting of Mr. and Mrs. Noisewater that I wrote that will go on the site for our wedding.  Hope you enjoy.

Did I ever tell you about the time I met my bride to be?  It all started back when I was living at the apartment on Nelson Street in Chicago that I lived at with a revolving cast of four roommates for seven years.  We were having a birthday gathering for a good friend and a good roommate, and I was telling the guests the story about the time some middle aged woman gave me her powder blue paisley jacket with shoulder pads.  What happened was I was at a bachelor party and arrived back at the hotel before the rest of my friends and was waiting at the bar.  I saw her goofy jacket slung over the chair and this happened:

Dr. Ken: That's a sharp jacket you got there.
Jacket Lady: Buy me a beer and it's all yours.
Dr. Ken: Sure.  What'l it be?
Jacket Lady: MGD.
Dr. Ken: Bartender, one MGD please.

I didn't know it was a female jacket.  I guess I didn't notice the shoulder pads at the time.  I just slapped it on and texted my best man, Mr. HLP, "I am at the bar in a Mr. Furley jacket!

"No sticker for me?"
So here I am at the apartment telling this story when it dawns on me that I should put The Jacket on as a visual aid to give my listeners a better indication of just how awesome it is.  You just have to see it to believe it.  When we make it out to the bar, I'm in one of those moods where I just decide to go out in public donning The Jacket.  So that's what I did.

We ended up at Four Treys, a wonderfully divey karaoke spot in the Roscoe Village neighborhood of Chicago.  After singing a song or two, I'm feeling pretty tremendous when a gorgeous brunette saunters by, slaps a sticker on the shoulder of my jacket and says, "that's an awful jacket" and just walks by without stopping.  I said to my friends that I had to go talk to this one because she gave me a sticker and she has good taste - the jacket is quite ugly.

She was standing over by the Galaga machine, so I thought it natural that I challenge her to a game.  Galaga is a lot like Space Invaders, only the bad guys swoop down on you from all sorts of angles and you can rescue a second ship to get a double shot going.  She said that she has never played but would accept my challenge.  I figured knowing the whole double shooting trick would give me a clear advantage.  Wrong.  She destroyed me.  Mrs. Noisewater was deftly firing buttons to blast ships and moving her plane around while furiously dodging the alien ships and their laser blasts in a way that was demoralizing to me but sexy nonetheless.  I remember her starting to kick butt at the game and offering somewhat of an explanation for her expertise: "Careful.  I'm Asian, you know."  I tried to buy our historic Galaga machine years later for nostalgic reasons but alas, it was gone.  

Beaten but not broken, I asked for her number and we met up the following Thursday.  I remember picking her up with my car when she was stuck in Chicago's bitter cold and feeling like a hero.  Then on the third date she caught me looking up at the Bulls versus Heat game a few too many times and still liked me!    

We got nuts about each other pretty quickly, and then she got notices back from all of the graduate schools she applied to.  Jaemi was looking for a career change into urban planning, which was something more challenging and exciting for her.  She didn't think she would get accepted to any of the schools, but she got accepted to all three.  What is crazy is that even though we hadn't been together that long, we were both ready to tackle a long distance relationship with no hesitation, and off she went to live in Santa Monica California, enrolled in UCLA's Masters in Urban Planning program.

The distance was difficult at times, but it also meant taking fun trips to meet up with one another.  We met in spots in between Chicago and L.A. with trips to Austin, Texas and Denver, Colorado and spent one New Years together in Costa Rica.  I never bought into the whole "absence makes the heart grow fonder" thing, but it was true in our case.  We were so excited to see each other on my trips to California, or her trips to Chicago where we would sometimes Hotwire a "fancy" hotel.  Also, it made us really appreciate when the two years would be over and we could be together for good.  Forever.  That's what we plan on doing, and that's what we would love you to help us celebrate on August the 1st in one of the cities we travelled to together and fell deeper in love, San Francisco.  Thanks for reading.

Love,

Dr. Kenneth Noisewater



Monday, February 16, 2015

Updates. Updates. Updates.

1. Mrs. Noisewater and I have a wedding in August.  My only job was finding the DJ.  I made sure I talked to three or four different reputable DJ services with good Yelp reviews.  Ultimately I went with the guys who got back to me quickly when I had a question, they had a reasonable price, and we were on the same page with a lot of things.  For example, I don't want to hear any songs that are at every other damn wedding you've ever been to like "We Are Family," "Celebrate," or "Last Dance."  Also, no group participation dorky songs like the Conga line, the limbo, or the "Electric Slide."  The guy on the phone was laughing and totally got where I was coming from.  So I booked him.  I just have the photo booth to do and I'm all done.

2. I just finished George Clinton's autobiography, and I think the best story in there came when they were recording "Let's Take It To the Stage," and a random junkie white guy wandered in asking if he could record some guitar for some money.  George is a bit of free spirit so he agreed.  The guy came back with his own beat up guitar, recorded a solo over the song "Shit, God Damn, Get Off Your Ass and Jam," and everyone was speechless because it was so good.  They had agreed on $25, but it was so good George gave him $50.  George wanted to credit him on the album too, but the guy disappeared never to be heard from again.  Nobody knew who the hell he was.  I love reading rock biographies, and even if it's a bad one, if I get one story like that then it's all worth it.

3. Reading about all the Parliament/Funkadelic stuff got me digging through some old songs, and I came across this one by Bootsy Collins.  Tell me this isn't the sexiest damn thing you ever heard!  I've listened to this one 6 times in the last 4 days.

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2Lorki_cCv4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

4. Here is a little known fact: My profile picture on Blogger since the very beginning in 2005 is a picture of George Clinton himself stepping off of the Mothership.

Who among you knew that?

Saturday, August 17, 2013

The Crummiest Band to Ever Play a Wedding Reception

For some reason, whenever I am at a wedding reception I always think back to all the other ones I have been to; the best and the worst moments.  Without question, the worst wedding band of all time goes to the reception after the wedding of my good friend, Omega Supreme.

Omega is a 6'5" African American fella who is now happily married to a wonderful 6 foot plus white woman.  They are going to have some giant children whom I hope play for the Chicago Bears, be they male or female.    Now, Omega let me know beforehand that he wasn't too happy about his bride-to-be booking her cousin's band for the occasion, but there was just no getting her to bend on that issue.

The band was not very talented, or perhaps they just haven't rehearsed in a while, and they had a random trumpet player who would sneak horn playing into songs whether the song called for it or not.  They also jammed out self indulgent solos through out the songs, which wasn't really necessary and made the already poorly chosen songs longer and even harder to dance to.  What was perhaps the most uncomfortable part was that they were very, very white.  They only song I can remember them playing was "Hey Ya" by Outkast, a song that was around ten years old at the time, but it seems as if they played it in an attempt to get the Black people out on the dance floor.  But to be honest, the white folks weren't dancing to anything either.

This is not a picture of the actual band, and if this is your band, I'm sorry to use you to be the visual for the worst band ever, but you kind of deserve it.  
When the band would take one of their frequent breaks, the groom would run over to the speakers, plug in his iPod full of awesome songs, and people of all colors, shapes, and sizes would dance their faces off.  Then the band would set back up, and it was like your parents coming home when you were throwing a bash while they were out and the fun is very much all over.  Everyone would go back to their seats or back to the bar.

I was chatting with Omega Supreme over a Budweister, and for some reason I was singing "to the window . . . to the wall!"  And he said to me, in this funny intentionally whining voice that he does sometimes, "Dr. Ken, youknow I want to hear the "to the window to the wall song."  But it was not to be.  The worst wedding band of all time continued their rain of terror well into the evening, but with enough shots of Jameson and enough stories about old times, we still had a great time.


How about you, Seven Readers?  You got a best or worst element of a wedding ceremony or reception?

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Reverend Reboot

Word got out on Facebook that I performed a wedding for a friend, and now another buddy has asked me to do the honor for his wedding this summer.  Beastly is a good friend, but just like most friendships in adulthood, I only see him once or twice a year.  When I started college, he and I became very close because all my other friends went away to school while I lived at home and commuted.  That sounds like he was a default best friend, but the truth is that the circumstances made us figure out how much we had in common.  We both loved to over analyze rock music, we both enjoyed watching stupid movies while drinking Lowenbrau, and we even both, regrettably, grew out long hair.  I wanted to look like Duane Allman, but it was Beastly who could actually play a guitar.  I just had what I thought was awesome rock star hair.  Nobody believes me that I had the golden locks, but there are pictures to prove it - those that I haven't found and burned.

His and hers Grandpa Simpson ties, while supplies last!
I'm not sure what all I will say at this ceremony, probably almost none of what you just read, but I'm sure if I just speak from the heart like the last one, then I'll do just fine.  And I'll wear the bolo tie again - my calling card.

Wednesday, December 05, 2012

Reverend/Dr. Kenneth's Speech


DISCLAIMER: If you are reading this and are a guest at the wedding where I'm the reverend on Saturday, stop reading at once.  Don't be that guy.  Come on! 

So, keep in mind that this is a wedding with zero religious implications and it's at a bar, so it's a little unconventional.  Anyway, here is what I got.  Please respond with any thoughts, comments, or criticisms:

"Yeah!  You all ready for a wedding or what!?  Let’s do this!

(now in a very calm voice) Yeah, in case you didn’t know, we’re gathered here today to join Nic Van Horn and Sarah Fergusen in the holiest of holy matrimony.  I’m Dr. Ken, for those that don’t know me.  These two lovely people asked me to be their reverend, and I was truly honored, and If anyone doubts my reverendship, I’ll have you know that I labored on the internet clicking and clacking away for over five minutes to get a professional-ish looking certificate with my name on it to make it official.  And I bought this tie (motions to bolo tie with the cross broach) - So I’m the guy. 

I met Nic on Craig’s list.  The reverend has met a lot of interesting people on Craig’s List.  People into all kinds of interesting things, but Nic was a prospective roommate at the now legendary 5 bedroom Chicago house of our extended, latent fratboy period, the place known simply as: 1522.  When he walked in the door for his interview, we all knew he was the guy.  Laid back, funny, likes sports, and likes to have a beer or two.  In fact, over drinks is how he got his nickname.  Not Nicky-Bear.  Only one person calls him that (motions toward bride), well, maybe 70 or 80 people will call him that now that I’ve let that cat out of the bag, but Ryan dubbed him “Nicky Woo-Woo.”  Why?  Well every now and then when Nic is partying, he will let out a (holds mic over to Nic, who lets out a WOO in the vain of Ric Flair)


And it was at a party, a redneck party, at 1522 where he courted a young Sarah.  He in a pair of very revealing cut off jean shorts, and she in . . . just regular clothes.   Going redneck comes more naturally to Michiganders than it does to those from Mass, it seems.  In any event, I recall Nic settling in at the back porch table, and Sarah arrived shortly thereafter.  The two hit it off instantly, and gradually they weren’t talking to . . . anyone else . . . but each other.  It got to a point where the good reverend thought it best to excuse himself, and it looked as if others thought the same.  Soon it was just the two of them on that back porch and they were conversing at a closer-and-closer distance which could only mean one thing . . . they were gonna’ smooch!  And smooch they did!

And they really haven’t stopped.  Only a matter of weeks ago, my lady and I were out with them at the Liars Club - you’ll all be going there later tonight, by the way.  It’s the best bar in Chicago, and the reverend will be having his ashes spread on that dance floor when it’s his time to join Baby Jesus in Heaven- So we’re at the Liars Club, and Nic and Sarah appear to be trying to swallow one another’s faces off.  We smiled at them and said something to the effect of, “Holy mackerel!,” to which the irreverent Nic Van Horn responded, “What?  Come on!  Have you seen her?”  I love this guy.  Honest to God I do. 

And Sarah is awesome too.  Whenever I come out, she smiles all night like she’s so happy to see me, and I feel really good about myself.  If she makes me feel like that, I can’t even imagine how happy she makes Nic. 

These two are very much in love, and that is plain to see.  You just have to love these two, and the two of them together are even better.  They send out nothing but good vibes and all smiles, and they just seem so natural and happy with one another.  Take it from a guy in love: There really is no better thing in the world than being in love, and these two are a perfect example of that.; the kind of love certainly worth celebrating. 

So, let’s get to the part where they profess their undying love to one another for all of us to hear with their own words, reading their own vows, which I think is just a baller-ass move at a wedding.  None of that scripted crap – just from the heart, what’s in here (motions to heart).  

Sarah, you’re up first. 

(Brief organic on Sarah’s speech)

And now, Nic, it is your turn. 

(Brief organic on Nic’s speech)

Okay, we did the vows, so now let’s go to the part where I say this: Nic, do you swear to be the world’s best husband known to man to Sarah for the rest of your days.  

Sarah, do you swear to love this guy with all you got all day, every day until the end of time?

Then, by the power vested in me from Reverend.com, or whatever, I now pronounce you man and wife.  You may now smooch the bride!"

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Tank Diesel

I was at a wedding this weekend in this beautiful mansion, and I got wonderfully intoxicated. At one point I was talking to a fun couple, and the guy said that he was trying to talk his wife into naming their son, Tank Diesel. I was such a fan of this name, that we were calling each other by that name all night.

As I was giving the girlfriend, LSD, a piggy-back ride on the way out of the party, I could hear a voice behind me yelling, "Yeah! Take her home, Tank Diesel!"

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Great Weekend, But I Have One Regret

Until this weekend, I had never been to a wedding with coolers of beer with stickers on top saying which beers were in each one, and you could just reach in and grab them yourself. I'm telling you this because it led to HLP (Heterosexual Life Patner) and myself lining up the tops of them on our table in an attempt to drink every different type of beer, which led to horrible, horrible drunkenness on my part.

Back in our cottage with other guests, while in varying stages of blacking out watching the World Series, I threw a stuffed goose for this great dog that was along for the wedding, she jumped over a couch to get it, knocking red wine all over some poor guy's suit. I don't remember much of this, but apparently I thought this was hilarious and I never so much as apologized.

Now, I know this was stupid on my part, but when there's a stuffed goose and a terrific dog in the room with me, I'm not NOT going to throw the stuffed goose for the terrific dog. Right?

No, it was dumb, and I need to get my boozing under control . . .

Sunday, July 10, 2011

The Cali Report

My lady (LSD) and I are back from our Cali trip where I accompanied her to a wedding and saw and fell in love with San Francisco for the first time. And I'm going to give you, my beloved seven readers, a full report. Now, don't worry - it won't be like a boring slide show. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I typically, although not always, succeed in making my stories funny, which is the mark of a good blogger. I just don't don't update enough to be really good anymore, which is what great bloggers do. However, I intend to do a decent job at this, so let me know how I did.

The beauty of doing things like this is that you get all the details down on "the page" to look at years later. Every once in a while when I leaf through some old entries, I will have completely forgotten about funny little moments, and I'm grateful that I have this rag for that reason.

Thursday:
We got into Oakland and the way I met LSD's parents was her father picking us up from the bus station. I liked him right away. He has a mustache, so he kind of looks like a cop but the good cop in the movie that you trust, not the crooked one. He also has a terrific sense of humor, like his daughter. Then we sat down to a dinner at their place, and I met mom, who I liked just as much as dad. I have been nervous in the past about meeting girlfriends' parents, but it's a helluva lot easier when I'm completely in love and 100% sure she's the right one for me.

Friday:
We got a nice early start to this day, but then we set ourselves back by royally screwing up the eggs we cooked and having to clean up the orange juice that I managed to spill inside of seemingly every kitchen cabinet, somehow. We then drove into San Francisco to check into the hotel before driving off to wine country.

The best thing about wine tastings is not the crappola lectures about grapes and shit, but more so I like getting to know these people and having some laughs, as many of them, you'll find, have terrific personalities. One small winery is owned and operated by a middle aged couple who look like the types who could also run "dopery" because they were just really laid back good folks, and the guy, while he was bright and witty, was a little deliberate in the way he carefully put his thoughts together into phrases. Somehow I sang a line from some random song, as I tend to do that sort of thing, and he told us how the two of them were just dancing to that song for their anniversary the night prior. They talked about it being an occasion ripe with wine flowing, dancing, and merriment. When I asked where they spent such an evening, they said that it was right where we were standing. Alone together in their very own winery, drinking their own blends, dancing to the sounds of their iPod.

After sobering up, we drove to Muir Woods because Dr. Ken had his heart set on seeing him some redwood trees. It was a long path through the woods, and we wanted to beat the traffic, so we decided to go back to the car to fetch our running gear to jog through it. This was a bad idea because there were wicked hills, giant red wood roots sticking out of the ground, the sun was beating down on us, and we got a little lost. One German guy with a giant back pack asked us if we knew where we were going, and I'll never forget the look of despair on his face when we told him we also had no idea where we were going.

But, we made it out of there alive to enjoy a great Italian meal in the North Beach area of San Francisco. We were going to hit some bars afterwards, but we were both tired from the Redwood adventure, so we returned to the hotel for some alone time. Why is it that "getting to know each other" in nice hotels is so damn awesome? We need to travel more because that's just a great deal of fun.

Saturday:
We knew that we had a rehearsal dinner in the late afternoon, so we packed in as much touristy stuff as we possibly could beforehand: cable cars, Bailey's and coffee at a bar called Buena Vista that invented the drink, some clam chowder, and Alcatraz. Overall, my impression of this city is that I've never been to a major city before that looks and feels so cozy and comfortable to me. All the buildings look like one of a kind, and there are so few Starbucks and Wallgreens on all the corners. You feel like you're living in a movie when you walk around that town, and it could be set now or twenty or thirty years ago.
The thing that I learned at Buena Vista is that they have plaques dedicated not to athletes who have nothing to do with anything, like say, Joe Montana, but to patrons who came to the bar every day for thirty years. The bartender told me this when I asked of the significance of a plaque on the wall that said a guy's name, a dry gin martini, and a range of years. That's what he drank and the years he did so, and it was hanging behind the bar on the corner in which he sat, along with the cane he would rest on the bar after ordering his martini before heading home, which he did every day up until he died at over 80 years of age. Another fellow who sat at the other end of the bar at a different time of day had just passed as well, and the bartender was in talks with the family to get his hat to put above a plaque over on his end of the bar. I don't know why, but I really liked that these guys were being honored in this way. Perhaps this appears as a random detail when you're talking about a trip like this, but not to me.

Saturday:
Just after waking up, I met the brother and his girlfriend, who are both great people. LSD had to do wedding stuff all day, so I spent the day with the family I had just met, which sounds strange but was totally fine. I went to the mall with the brother and girlfriend and watched the Giants game on TV with the dad, who rarely misses a game.

The reception was outdoors on a golf course with mountains behind it, which was beautiful, but it was just about the hottest day of the year. While it was a wonderful ceremony, getting to the indoor air conditioned reception and open bar was tremendous. LSD and I danced a few songs, had some shots cooled through a fire engine ice sculpture, and they had paid dudes out back to hand roll fresh cigars. I only smoke one or two cigars a year, but I really do like how it makes me feel more sophisticated and wealthy than I really am, if even just for a moment.

Around last call, I let LSD know that entering into what will soon be a long distance relationship, no longer scared me. It's just what we have to do, and we're going to do it right. I also told her that San Francisco will always be the city where we fell even deeper in love. I was thinking maybe we name a girl Bay some day, but maybe that's getting ahead of ourselves a touch. In the midst of this heartfelt discussion, one of the drunken groomsman came over to us to incoherently tell us some drunken philosophy. We politely told him that we were kind of having a moment, but that didn't really get rid of him. He was a lot like, and I hate to reference this show, but Joey from Friends: kind of stupid but lovable. So, we just had to laugh and not worry much about it because he kind of enhanced the moment in his own way, actually.

Sunday: Because this is getting long and nothing much happened on this day, I'll just take this time to say thanks for reading if you made it this far, and I hope you've enjoyed it.

Good night, seven readers. And goodbye San Fran. You'll see me again some day. Count on it.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Gnomes and Legos

At last, here is the story about the wedding I went to a couple of weeks ago.

At our table were:
Dr. Kenneth Noisewater: Yours Truly
Law School Dropout (LSD): Dr. K's main squeeze
Gung Ho: Friend of Dr. K.
Gelfling: Gung Ho's ladyfriend
Monique: Another friend of Dr. K.

The wedding went fine, but it was the events afterwards where things got nutty. We went back to Gung Ho's hotel room and stumbled right into a Lego convention. There were rooms upon rooms of Lord of the Rings and Star Wars battle scenes with literally hundreds of soldiers on each side. There was even a life sized Harry Potter, as pictured below along with The Good Doctor. I thought he'd be taller in person - maybe with his witch hat, or whatever.

I got one of the best calls of my life when Gung Ho rang me to tell me that he found a whole room full of Star Wars stuff. At the time, LSD and I were getting a private tour by a nice hunchbacked fellow. I made sure he knew his stuff by asking him the name of Boba Fett's ship, and he responded by saying that it was, of course, Slave One, but he also knew the class and distributor, something he would have had to have read in super-nerdy books. His credentials checked out. When telling us about things in the industry, I learned that guys who make their own big Lego projects call themselves "builders," which sounds way better than grown men who play with Legos.

The night only got weirder when a nice guy working for the hotel shuttled us to a dive bar down the street. As you can see in the pictures, the place looked like the basement in "That 70's Show," there was that picture of a naked woman, and there was a big gnome that we had a little too much fun playing with. The pic above is my favorite because Gelfling is acting loving towards him, but Gung Ho is giving him a stern talking-to. Differing gnome parenting styles perhaps . . .

I got another wedding coming up this weekend in Cali with LSD, as well as checking out San Francisco for the first time, and going to Sonoma to sip wine. Anyone else been to a good wedding lately or have gnome or Lego stories?

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Best Man No-no's


I'm going to be giving a Best Man speech at HLP's* wedding in a couple of weeks, and I've put together a list of things not to say in a speech.

- Don't spend too much time talking about how close you and the groom are. Just a couple quick words about how you know one another, not an "I love this guy, man" type of thing.

- If you have a story to tell about the groom, make it one - just one. Also, don't tell ones that are too embarrassing and mean. I went to one not too long ago where I was really pissed because the guy told around three stories all highlighting why the groom, who I think is a terrific guy, is absent minded.

- Don't ever, ever talk about the bachelor party. Even saying, "I'm not going to talk about the bachelor party is saying too much.

- Don't try to be too funny. This isn't your big break into comedy, it's just a time to say a few nice words about the bride and groom. And don't laugh at your own jokes.

- Keep it short. Anything over five minutes is too long.

- Don't forget to thank everyone who helped make the night possible.

- Only one toast, not two or three.

- I know it's nerve racking to talk in front of hundreds of people, and I know it's an open bar, but don't get too drunk. I'd say a three drink maximum before the speech is a good rule of thumb.

Any other good rules I should abide by that I've forgotten? Let me know before I unknowingly break one that you think I should stick to. Thanks!

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*HLP = Heterosexual Life Partner

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Bubba's Fixin' To Get Hitched!






Last night I attended a wedding celebration in honor of my good friend Bubba. Just about any time you go to an event involving a guy named Bubba you are in for an interesting evening, and this night was no exception. Here are some of the highlights:

1. There was a circuit blown, a power failure, or something that lasted for about an hour. This meant no lights, no music, and perhaps most importantly, no air conditioning. I was sweating my tail off up in that piece! I give credit to one guest who danced into the room with her boom box and some cd’s. This resulted in a thunderous round of applause, and I was excited to have music too, until I heard “The Pina Colada Song.” I’m afraid to say that the songs didn’t get much better from there. As compensation for the hour of power failure, the venue offered an extra hour on the open bar. Drunken Dr. Kenneth Noisewater was loving that solution, but hung-over Dr. Kenneth Noisewater is thinking he could have done without the extra hour of cheap rum.

2. The husband of one the bridesmaids did an Elvis performance, complete with sideburns, a cape, and the whole nine. At one point in the evening he came into the room with a bag of Dracula fangs. Why I have no idea, but it was fun as hell talking to people with those things in. It dawned on me that I was the only guy still keeping them in way later in the evening, which should have discouraged me, but it was just too damn fun. Every time I walked by Elvis, Dracula teeth or not, I’d say, “How you doin’, King?” Then we’d chat for a while, and I must say, he was very entertaining, as was I, I was told, so naturally we hit it off quite well. The King was helping me out by telling me which women were available. Thanks, King, wherever you are . . .

3. I was rocking a feau-hawk for the first time. Am I too old for that style at the ripe-old-age of 29? Call me metrosexual, tragically hip, or a just plain dork, but I think it looked cool. Maybe I’ll post some pictures when I get some emailed to me.

4. I took my closest, female friend as a date, which worked out well, since she knows a lot of the guests. Her and I are on the If We’re Not Married By 35 We’re Just Going to Say Screw It and Marry One Another So We Don’t Die Alone Plan, or the IWNMBTWJGSSIMOASWDDAP Plan for short. Well, not short, but shorter. Unpronounceable too. The plan needs a better name; I admit. Both our respective parents live in the Chicago suburbs, so we stopped by her folks’ place in between the church and reception. Her dad is a chef, so he whipped up some hors d’oeuvres for us: Rolled-up prosciutto on a cracker with fancy cheese on top, dribbled with a touch of olive oil. Then we sipped our wine and watched an episode of Frazier. The hoity-toity crap was out the window, as we were off to Bubba’s weddin’ . . .

5. I realize this is my second blog in a row ending with a reference to Ween, but the song the bride and groom danced to was Stay Forever by the aforementioned band. Nicely played, Bubba.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

With This (Altered) Ring I Thee . . .


I met a new friend last Thursday at volleyball. I was at the bar I play at really early, and I was having some drinks. I know the bartender, she’s a great gal, and she was talking to this guy. Eventually the three of us were chatting, and we discovered that both of us guys are divorced. Somehow he and I were got to discussing what it is we have done with our wedding rings. I told him mine was in the case for my glasses, which I never wear. I wish that I had done something more clever with it, or at least made something up, because this guy’s response was maybe the single best thing I’ve ever heard. He said he was going to “make his wedding ring into a cock ring to fuck other chicks with.” Brilliant. Well, tonight I have volleyball at that very bar, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m more excited at the prospect of seeing this guy than any girl I can think of in the last couple of months.