Last Friday I climbed into the shotgun seat of Big Mike's new Jeep and headed northeast for a twelve hour drive. I'm not what I used to be, and it isn't the age - it's the mileage. We rolled into chez Shotgun Bob before midnight. The wedding being scheduled for the next day, we failed to tie one on.
The ceremony was scheduled for 2:00 PM, which translates into three and change. Big Mike and I got seats where we could sit. Then the groom showed up and the groom's men (groomsmen?) struggled in. Below is a picture that says it all about the assemblage.
 |
| Typical Guest |
The dinner was great. The chef (I gather it was the groom's brother) did a magnificent job with the barbecue grill, but the truly outstanding dish was the barbecue chicken. Seasoned and marinated just right, tender and juicy, it was a direct opposite of chicken that I usually find at any dinner event.
After dinner Big Mike and I repaired to the bar, where Mike made a few painkiller cocktails. They were delicious, but you don't dare drink one when you're thirsty. The drawback? Click to keep reading, but brace yourself.
The bride, four bridesmaids, and six little princesses had commandeered the basement / bar to get ready for the main event. This is the ruin they left behind.
 |
| Bar Area With Debris |
 |
| Feminine Paraphernalia |
 |
| Pour Me a Drink? |
 |
| Big Mike Made the Best of Things |
When I went into the bathroom to take a shower, I was confronted by six wet bath towels strewn all over the place, and the shower stall looked like the hair care rack at Dollar General. Is it too much to ask that when you bring your own female hair care products, you remove them after use? And maybe pick up after yourself?
I noted that the same thing was true for litter out in the yard. Clean up is going to take a week.
Meanwhile, back at the bar I cleared a place for me to sit down and contemplated how much fun it would be to get a contractor trash bag, and just sweep everything into it. Ah, well...
The woman who owned the extensive assortment of beauty products showed up about halfway through our first cocktail, and started collecting and putting away. I found her to be pretentious and brassy, her one-sided conversation laced with modern, meaningless phrases. Upon seeing Mike and I drinking our cocktails, she switched to intelligent speech.
"What are you drinking?" she asked.
"Pain killer," Mike replied.
"Ooooo, those are my favorite!" she graced Mike with her best self-indulgent smile.
"Just sayin'," she added.
Being a gentleman, Big Mike wordlessly mixed her a pain killer, then handed her the glass.
"What's this?" she said.
"It's what you asked for," Mike replied, deliberately failing to name the drink.
She took a sip, then another.
"Ummmm! What is it?" she asked.
"It's what you ordered. It's a pain killer," Mike replied.
"It's delicious!"
I resisted. She'd already said that it was her favorite, then couldn't remember the conversation or name the cocktail. She is the quintessential modern moonbat. Self-centered doesn't begin to describe her. In her narcissistic world there is nothing so wonderful, so important as me-me-me!
I had a second pain killer, then started on a third. We had a long drive ahead of us on Sunday, although Mike would do all the driving. I had (still have) an eye infection which was somewhat relieved by Diphenhydramine (Benadryl) and a hot compress.
That's the wedding, and I wish I could have stayed on another few days so as to help Shotgun Bob clean the place up.
4 comments:
The sad state of the world... no consideration for others. Teaching our little girls "I'm a princess" instead of "It's a hard life", gives it to you.
CW: True enough. One young lady who was polite, well-spoken, and demonstrated a maturity well beyond her years appointed herself as part-time child wrangler. As a result, the little princesses behaved themselves most of the time.
Men are pigs. ;)
Sounds like a good time was had!
Post a Comment