I am sad to say that my addiction to Chinese Food was abruptly halted as a result of the ongoing battle with the Fortune Cookie Nazi.  He won, I lost; no MSG, salt loaded, sugary goodness for Diva.  Dammit.

So, I come home from a business trip and OG tells me that while I was gone, she had went to said establishment to partake of take-out as her man had taken ill.

She went to the self serve bar, I remember so well.  She filled her to-go boxes with treats of all kinds…

She went to the front to pay our friend the Fortune Cookie Nazi…

“You need-a any sauces today?”  He asked.

“No.  I don’t think so,”  she politely replied.

“Well, you must-a take the fortune cookie,” he tells her.

A light bulb went off over her head.  She knows first hand that I’m not kidding when I say he just won’t give me a fortune cookie.  That he has an inner drive within his deep dark soul, which keeps him from simply dipping in and giving me my friggin’ cookie. 

What’s wrong with a brother when he won’t even share a 5 cent cookie?  He would give me a truck load of sauces, chop stix, but no damn cookie.   All I want is my cookie!!  Why can’t you just give me my cookie!!!

I’m going to go rock back and forth in the corner now.

Finally.  A year after the proposal.  Finally, after three changes in date, time and venue.  Finally, after finding a wedding cake that didn’t resemble spiderman.  Finally, after managing to locate and fit into a sexy yet firm suitable set of wedding underwear.  Finally, we did it.  We got hitched!

Of course, in our typical style, anything less than complete and utter chaos, followed by family drama and tradgedy.

I must say, my bridesmaids were stunning and wear sexy gowns.  Nice tits, ladies!  I couldn’t say it in the church, because well, it was church.  But dang, everybody’s boobs looked superb in those dresses! 

The boys didn’t look shabby either.  Ain’t it funny how a man in a classic black tux can make a girl weak in the knees?

It was actually beautiful, other than the bridesmaids walking to “Pray for the Dead and the Dead will Pray for you”.  Long story.  I stress here and now, that it was an ooopsie on our part, as we didn’t listen to the concerto in full.  We thought, “Oh that’s beautiful” when we listened to it the first time and turned it off with listening to it all the way through.  So, two of the bridesmaids are walking to lovely strums of a classic string quartet, when it goes into the death march.  Sweet Jesus!  I’m back there yelling to Val, “Oh shit! Oh Shit!!!!!  Cut it off, cut it off!!” 

Which he did, and we went on.  It was at this point I had decided I either need an ample amount of Jack Daniels right then and there or a mega dose of Xanax.

Deep breath.  The Wedding March is going. Walking with Daddy (who by the way was on his best behavior and didn’t cause any shit whatsoever). I got up there to my man looking dapper and all of his groomsmen. 

Ok, so here we go.  Daddy gave me away and there I stood looking into the eyes of the man I was about to marry.  I never in my life imagined that I would have been nervous.  But I was.  And I was about to cry.  We stood with everyone looking on… ohhhhh, the sweet, happy couple gazing at one another as “At Last” by Etta James played on.

Who would have ever thunk it?  My friggin shoes started to hurt like hell and I was about to cry again.  We manage to exchange vows with me only tripping once over my tongue and having to start over.  Queue the second song, “If You Ever Have Forever In Mind.”  By this time, the butterflies have turned to dragons and I’m so nervous that I can feel myself turning red as a chipotle pepper getting over-ripe in the sun.  I look at the pastor and say, “Is there anyway we can get him to turn this song off??”

“You really want the song cut?” He asked, looking at me like I’m crazy and then to Tony for reassurance that my head wasn’t going to spin 360 like something from the Exorcist.

“Yah, and the next one too.  My feet are killing me and I’m turning red.”

“You got it.”  He said.

He got Val’s attention. The music was cut. Moving right along. 

We are now husband and wife.  He grabbed my hand.  He pulled me close and laid the nicest kiss on me.  Dang.  We’re in church here, pal, and you’re really turning me on.

The only mishap was Lil T coming up to us mid-vows and yelling “Look Nana!  Motorcycle.” When he figured out everybody was lauging at him and saying, “Oh how cute.”, he took off. 

So, not a single mishap that was YouTube worthy happened, dammit!  I was just waiting for somebody to do something stupid.

We got it done!  The ceremony itself was beautiful.  Nobody burst into flames from getting too close to the unity candle, although Julie was standing pretty close and she has that sexy long hair. Nobody slid and fell off the stage, passed out or puked… 

I was tickled as pink as pink gets to see so many people showing so much love by being there to see this circus.  But as hectic as wedding days seem to get, I didn’t get a chance to sit and visit as I was being pulled in fourteen directions at once.  Not complaining, just the way it is.

We were in the midst of finding the photographer to make pictures after the ceremony, when we found out that the photographer had, in fact, left.  He had said to somebody, can’t remember who at this point, that he had plenty of pictures.

Um. What?!?!  I believe I’ll be the one to tell you when you’ve got enough damn pictures and when you can sit down and have cake, asshat!  But, I didn’t get the chance.  He was gone.  Must have needed a beer or a shot of tequila or something.  Whatever.  It’s my fault for putting my trust in my dear father’s friend to do anything remotely important.

That’s when SUPERMAN appeared!  He was like an angel sent to save my day!  I bet you’re wondering who by now, eh?

Well, it’s our own Mark Steel!  I was about to cry and there he was, yanking the camera out of the bag, snapping pictures of the wedding party, the reception, the friends, the family.  My friggin hero, I shit ya not!

Ok, so what else.  The reception was gorgeous!  Well, the cake started to melt and the topper kept falling off because Robyn is hot as hell and she walked by it.

I pitched the bouquet, and Robyn snatched it up.  As if she needs it (wink).  She’s next anyway.  And then Curtis (Robyn’s man) yoinked the garter!  So, if it wasn’t already happening, it’s bound to happen now! 

We ate cake…

drank wedding punch…

Posed, posed, posed… pitched the bouquet…

flipped the garter…

…and decided it was time to cruise on outta there. 

We proceeded to the truck to find it tastefully decorated with multiple condoms and window chalk.

It was then that the family drama ensued.  Amanda (my brat) broke asshat on Amy (his brat), and they commenced in a huge argument which culmunated in Amanda throwing her shoes and running into the woods and Amy peeling out of the church parking lot like her ass was nothing less than on fire.

For hell’s sake.  Please just friggin’ shoot me now!  I’ve waited all of my life for this here and day all these people want to piss all over it!

Anyway.  Mark, Becky, Olga and Holly got me some good pix, so regardless of the drunk monkey camera guy, I got my memories.

On the way back, from out the woods, all of a sudden the traffic came to a stand still.  For a second I thought I had given way to shock and was in need medical attention because this is Maryville, Tennessee. This is a town that is maybe three times the size of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, it seemed a bit excessive to require four police cars and one tow truck at the “scene of the crime.” 

After all it was just a routine case of dented rear (end) syndrome.  One idiot/person liked the other person’s butt a little too much and would have no long distance relationship. For this driver, he wanted that butt just like a babyboomer to coke: “ITS MINE!!! I WANT IT NOW!!!!!!!”  A moment of pure obsessive madness.

The larger problem is the inability of said law enforcement to correctly assist in navigating around such a traffic fiasco.  No, instead said officer motioned as if I was to stop my motor vehicle.  What he then failed to do was request that I drive around said incident while he walked past me. 

This was not a case of American blind justice, just sheer irreverence for having a decent work ethic.  After all aren’t public servants supposed to perform their tasks to the best of their ability no matter how irksome? Or, in the midst of other current events, have the law enforcement officials in Maryville be taking notes from the Knox County Commision?  Only time will tell…

     It’s no big secret — err, well, maybe it is — that I’ve been doing IT work since 1986.  Not your average IT guy, mind you, but the type who gets a Monday morning call, gets on a plane, and goes and fixes something at a semiconductor manufacturing plant in Malaysia, then gets back in time to have a beer with the Pirate Chicks™ on Wednesday night.
     In and out, real fast, get paid.  That’s the way I like it.

     No, I didn’t mean like that, although, I have had my days…

     Last year, I hooked up with the owner of a business of the Adult variety.  She marketed my skills pretty well (no, seriously, not like that!), and I ended up working on a few websites and servers which I probably never would have had they not been so professional.  I mean, these are business people, first and foremost, and if you can keep your head around nudity and porn and do your job, then you’re going to be highly regarded.
     And so it was today that I ended up working on two servers for one such customer, and learning a hosting control panel that I’d never seen before, all the while brushing up on the foreign language it was written in.
     A good day.  A busy day.  And paid in full for my services already, which is almost unheard of these days.

     Today I had time to sit down and catch up on what used to be my regular blog reads.  One of them pointed me towards a “new” blogger, Gina at Life’s Short, where I found something that had me laughing my ass off for a solid half hour.

     I expect great things from this one.  😉

We had just sat down to have our mid-day bread breaking when a good-old boy, who apparently either can’t read or just doesn’t give a shit about the no-soliciting sign on the door cruised in.  I figure it’s the latter, as it is posted on our door in plain sight where one would grab the handle and pull the door.

So, there we are.  I wish my delicious Chicken Caesar Salad and  OG with her ethinic beet soup.  We are about to give thanks and partake, when this asshole walks in.

“Did you miss me?”  He asks as he swaggers our way, booty in hand.

“Uh, no.  It’s been about a year though,”  OG says.

He sets his goods, dozens of long stem roses (which were mighty pretty to be sure) on our lunch table.

“Remember how much they are?”  He winks at OG as she was the one who actually paid notice to his punk ass interupting our bread breaking.

“No,” she says. “But it doesn’t matter.  We don’t want any anyway.”

Then I chime in, “You can donate some for my bachelorette party tonight.”

Of which he offers congrats, but ignores the donation request… dick.

“Well, you could buy some to toss at your stripper,” he says, trying to appeal to my wild side.

“I ain’t got no stripper lined up, dude!”  I reply, aghast that he would even dream up that sales pitch.

“Mother or mother-in-law you could get some for?” he’s getting desparate.

So I decide to go in for the kill.

“Look guy, I’ll be completely honest. I’m not buying any because I am saving every penny to get balls out drunk tonight and if I buy your roses… that, my friend, will cut into my drinking budget.”

Have a great desert day, pal.