I’d be remiss in my blogging duties if I didn’t report on the Nissassa* wedding that went down without a hitch this past weekend. And I say “without a hitch” because, being nontraditionalists, Beauregard and Kitty* didn’t actually get married this past weekend. That romantic little task actually happened a few weeks previous IN FLORENCE. Florence, Italy, not Florence, Wisconsin.
Anyway, it was an eye opening night for a few reasons. For one, the Nissassa reception was held in the same hall, in the same room, with the same organizer that Lisa and I had almost a year ago. One year? Where the hell did that go?
Second, I took a gander at the Garvey Timeline going in the other direction and noticed that we were only three weeks away from BABY DAY. I immediately put down my Waterfront Wheat and ordered a sobering soda.
Last, Hoffman crashed on my couch so he could drink his ass off and not have to drive out to East Aurora looped up. That in itself wasn’t very eye opening, but after he left, I noticed my bathroom was trying to tell me, via a sharpee marker, something about my sexual orientation.
Lisa’s shampoo tells me I’m gay.
My Mach3 Turbo package of razors tells me I’m gay.
The scale tells me I’m gay.
The baby powder tells me that if I put it on my privates, I’m gay.
More than likely, my bathroom has left me more subtle notes that I’ll pick up on later in the week. If my hairbrush decides to bring up me liking dudes, I may just have to wonder if that Hoffman is boyfriend material.
*Names changed to make them funnier.
1 year ago