Neil Gaiman, �American Gods�
Ok, so back to the land of White Folk and the state that is hard to spell but rhymes with �Assliketwobricks.�
Well, it sorta rhymes.
The reasons Assliketwobricks comes to mind is that seemed to be the predominant shape of most of the women I saw walking around. Oakland has their getto booty, Los Angeles has their heroin chic. Boston? Stick two bricks down a pair of tight pants and then walk around. Uncomfortably.
I got to see dozens of these butts wandering around as I strolled through the area while Kelly and the rest of the women involved with the wedding got manicures, presumably so they could cut the faces of men who got a little too fresh after the free bar had been open for a few hours.
I couldn�t stand the fumes in the salon, and so decided to walk around the town. Seriously girls, how can you stand to be that kind of environment? Anybody who knows Rich, my former roommate and singer for Preachers That Lie also probably knows his more famous moniker, that being �Stinky Rich.� I lived with this guy, on and off, for about a total of eight years, if not more. After years of working in a restaurant and living with this guy, something has to really smell bad in order for me to notice it, and this place gave me a headache within three minutes.
So I wandered around, looking at how hard the town worked on keeping up a quaint atmosphere. I just wanted coffee, and can you believe it, there wasn�t a single Starbucks in sight, and I walked around for quite a while. Not that I like Starbucks, because I don't. In fact, I think Starbucks tastes like bugs, but they DO know how to make a large. But I was hard-pressed to find a single place with a familiar corporate logo, with the exception of gas stations, which is where I ultimately bought coffee.
Corner convenience stores had names like, �No Name Corner Store.� The two bars I saw were of the simple first name variety, like �Bob�s.� Fast food joints were non-existent. All of it screamed down home folksy charm, though I wondered why a place so full of white people had five different Syrian restaurants within a seven-block radius.
And yes, I did see some people who weren�t white and puritan looking. They were, in order of appearance. Two black kids waiting for a bus. A Hispanic woman working at the gas station, and a black woman pushing a stroller along the sidewalk. Everybody else looked like they were going to sell me insurance.
Or maybe try to convince me to join the Church of the Latter-day Saints.
Actually, I guess that�s not fair. The Mormon�s were probably the only white denomination that I didn�t see. People make jokes about Massachusetts being the Puritan State, but really � you know the Public Enemy song that has the line that goes something like, �On every corner there�s a church, across the street, there�s a liquor store � both of them keeping us poor.� Well here, I saw four churches in a half-block radius. To my right was this enormous Catholic church, one of a height and splendor that I hadn�t seen since England. Except here, the entire massive building was built from red brick, which had to be the most tiresome job in the world. But hey � they�re safe from that wolf who would huff and puff, right?
Directly across the street was a Methodist church of a much smaller stature, whose foundation was also built of red brick before moving to wood. This made me think both churches started construction at the same time, but the Methodists decided to switch so as to not be confused with that other religion for the white man. Next door was a nondescript Presbyterian church. (Though they didn�t look like Presbyterians to me... Inside coolness joke! Did you pass?)
Finally, on the corner was yet another enormous Catholic church built out of red brick. The entire scene made me want to come visit on Sunday just to see if the different factions of church folk rumbled in the street after services concluded. In any case, this had to be why the women had such brick-like asses � too much time kneeling, and for all the wrong reasons.
I made my way back up the hill to the beauty shop where everybody was just finishing dipping their nails in poison, or whatever the hell they do at these places. Kelly and I headed back down the same way I had ventured, stopping into the first church I mentioned, it of the enormous size. I sat in the back, watching the bride and groom go through the motions underneath a life-sized realistic portrait of Jesus hanging off the cross, all bloody and generally looking like he wasn�t having a good time. Meanwhile, I wondered where I could find a bathroom and not be sexually assaulted by a member of the clergy.
After the wedding rehearsal the entire group headed to some fancy restaurant, because apparently when you get married, you not only have to have a rehearsal for the wedding, you have to practice eating. What I don�t think anybody was ready for was the fact that the hotel connected with the restaurant happened to be hosting a senior prom on the same day. We made our way through throngs of white girls in dresses that cost more than I make in three months, attached to the arms of white boys who decided to go with white pinstripe pimp suits with matching fedoras and gold chains, because I suppose they thought it made them look hard, instead of like total idiots.
We were a little late arriving so most of the tables were filled with people. We found two spots open and sat down. Shortly thereafter, somebody took the seat directly across from me. Trying to be on my best behavior, I looked up ready to greet the newcomer, and did so. Afterward, I immediately put my head back down, visibly shaking. For you see, the person who sat down across from me was the priest who was conducting the ceremony.
Kelly noticed. �Is something wrong?� she asked.
�No,� I responded, �but look, I�m gonna have to do something. I don�t want to make anybody uncomfortable, and I don�t want to be rude, and I certainly don�t want to give your father an excuse to kill me, but I have to do this.�
�Do what?�
�I have to ask this guy,� I said, pointing at the priest with my finger under the table, �what his favorite �two priests walk into a bar� joke is.�
Kelly looked back at the priest and then leaned in close to me. �I think you should. Go ahead.�
�I�ll wait a little bit,� I said. �I�ll let people relax and enjoy themselves first.�
I think less than ten minutes passed before I sprung it on him.
On the next day the actual wedding occurred. I�ve been to about five other weddings not including the fake one I had for myself. For the most part they always leave me a little cold, mostly because it always seems like they�ve been arraigned for the parents rather than the actual participants. It just feels sterile, completely lacking in the personality of the people involved.
Of course, I�m a little spoiled after having my fake wedding (which if you haven�t read about, you should click here, because it�s the best wedding ever!!! But that sort of proves my point. My wedding had personality. Most weddings don�t. I watched these people get married, keeping an eye on the bridesmaids and party of the groom to see if they tried to sneak a peek up Jesus� adult diaper. After all, if you haven�t heard, the guy is hung like (hold your arms out for the full effect) this!
In-between the bizarre catholic rituals (Stand Up, Sit Down, Fight, Fight, Fight!) I just couldn�t help but daydream about weddings. Specifically, if I were to get married.
And that isn�t an excuse for my mom to get all excited. I just have an overactive imagination. But I was staring at this big production in this huge church with the audience participation involving Communion, or people who wanted to take up on Jesus� proclamation of �Eat me,� and I knew that if I were to get married it wouldn�t be anything like this. But I couldn�t figure out how it would be. After all, when you have a fake wedding as good as mine, how do you top it?
So I was trying to figure out personalities. Since I was there with Kelly, I took her interests into account, proving that chivalry isn�t dead. Her interests through the years involve musical theater. In fact, she sang Ave Maria at this particular wedding. She was too embarrassed to practice over the phone with me, so I was like the rest of the audience, staring back, hearing her beautiful voice and wishing I had picked a better spot to sit (or kneel, or stand, depending on which portion we were at during the ceremony) so I could see more than the top of her forehead from the balcony.
And my interests? My passions? I couldn�t think of anything, except for zombies. Then it hit me: a musical production featuring zombies. Zombies in love.
I still make no promises. But, if it were ever to happen it will be the best wedding you�ve ever seen, even if you went to my first one.
