picking the best part

The other day I attended a Jewish wedding for the first time, and let me tell you, those Jews know how to have a good time. I was raised as a Catholic, and all the weddings I ever went to growing up were boring as hell.

Though I guess hell isn’t very boring at all, you know, with all the fire and Never-ending Sadness happening, but that’s beside the point.

What I realized at the Jewish wedding was that because Ari is about .07% Jewish, when I get married in September – I’m going to be a Jew!

This is obviously pretty exciting to me.

Not because when people see a picture of me and my big nose and ask me if I’m Jewish I can finally say “yes” instead of “no, I just have a fucking big nose, asshole.” No, it’s because I fully intend on doing that thing that Jews do at weddings when they lift the bride and groom up in chairs and dance around with them.

When I saw that happening, I looked at Ari and said, “Oh, we are totally doing that at our wedding.” And because I’ll be a Jew as soon as I end my life as I know it, I mean, accept the vows of marriage, it will totally be an acceptable thing to do.

I can see it now:  Everyone will be dancing and lifting Ari and I up in chairs and I’ll yell “Shalom! Yom Kippur!” and Ari will glare at me and everything will be great.

Unfortunately I have to wait until the wedding to have this experience, so until then I suppose I’ll just keep dreaming of that day and of that dance, and toil away at work to pass the time.

Oy vey!

thirty is the new thirty

Somehow, early this past November, I turned 30 years old.

I know! To some of you, this is a shock. You’ve seen the picture on the “yes, me” page and you’re thinking, “How??? How is this possible?? Your silky smooth skin! Your long, flowing locks! I am a fool!”

But fret not, my boyish good looks have deceived many people.  You were not the first, and sadly, you will not be the last.

For some reason, people think that turning 30 means that it is time to Mature and Stop Being Irresponsible, but I have made a decision that this will not be the case with me.

No, I’ve decided that I will wait until my forties to become an Adult, therefore I am now staring right into the face of ten more years of acting exactly like I do now.

Yes, that’s right – I am granting myself another ten years of yelling at people that I’ve just met about trivial things and all the other behaviors that make up The Adventure Of Knowing Chris.

I figure, why stop quoting Seinfeld at every possible chance now that I’m 30?  I’d be robbing everyone I know of something that brings pure joy to their lives (no one has ever actually said this to me, but I can tell, I’m a Joy Bringer).

And when that day comes that I finally turn 40, look out!

You want to see Responsibility?  You want to see Acting Appropriately?  I am going to be on fire! People will probably start painting pictures of me, because that’s what happens when you’re an Adult.  People paint your picture.

Until then, though, what you see/read now is what you get for the next ten years. So come on over, grab a beer and let’s act stupid, because that’s what being a thirty-something is all about.

sir chris

Recently Ari and I were having a discussion about the wedding, and she began asking me what types of dresses I thought looked best.

Of course I replied that they all look the same to me, which got me A Look from Ari, which promptly changed my answer to “Whatever you pick will be great because you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”  I am what they call a Fast Learner.

As she browsed online looking at dresses, Ari then commented on a dress with a certain type of veil, and I looked up from my magazine and exclaimed, “Brides don’t wear veils!”

Ari corrected me.  She said that while she won’t be wearing one, a lot of brides do wear veils.  I told her that they sound a little medieval to me.

What can I say? I am quite the catch, ladies.

I really did not realize that brides still wore veils, so I told Ari that since we are all still clearly in the middle ages, I would require a sword to go along with my tuxedo, just to stay in the spirit of things.

My logic was that if we’re all acting like knights and slaying dragons that don’t eventually become our friends and give us rides places, I might as well go all the way and carry a sweet-looking sword too.

Ari laughed good and hard at my lack of veil knowledge and my suggestion of carrying a sword, but I still think it’s a pretty good idea.

Now if I had suggested carrying a shield too, that would be a little much.

Oh, but wait, I could put my family crest on that shield!

I’ll be back – I have to email Ari.

one and the same

Eventually, someday, I want to have kids.

No, I’m not afraid to say that because I’m thirty.  I’m supposed to be talking about this kind of stuff instead of  how Batman doesn’t really need those pointy ears on top of his mask, he probably just thinks it looks cool.

I guess I shouldn’t say “kids” though, I should say “boys.”  I want a couple little Chrises running around the world so that everyone forgets about me and when I die they say, “Well,  Chris, he was a complete asshole.  But his boys?  Fine men, just the best.  Why, the other day I saw one of them offer his last three M&M’s to a friend!”

Those are the kinds of boys I’m going to raise.  At least that’s what I think anyway.

The kids will be fine, but as far as me relating to other parents, that’s where things will probably go awry.  This is because I don’t think I’ll be very good at all the political things that come with having kids in school.

At the first Parent Teacher Meet-up, I’ll probably be more concerned with when the meeting ends as opposed to what the teacher is like and meeting other parents there.  Unless there’s free beer or something.  Then I’d be very Concerned With Things.

When little Wyatt (Don’t you steal that name! Don’t do it!) plays in his first football game, because he’s a star athlete of course, and some of the parents ask me if I can man the snack shop, I don’t think there’s anyway I could not laugh in their faces before telling them, “Maybe you should, since your kid kind of sucks.”

It’s moments like that when I think I’d have the most problems.

Of course this is why I have Ari, to be the brains, and eventually the voice of this imaginary family.  Because lord knows if I’m left to my own devices, we’ll have no adult friends.

But I bet all the kids will think I’m awesome.

hanging tough, staying hungry

I’m getting married this coming September, and my fiancee Ari and I have been busy planning the wedding, which mostly involves her telling me about things I never knew about, like “color schemes” (weird) and the fact that she needs a wedding band in addition to the engagement ring (weirder).

For the most part I’m fine with everything, but the more and more we plan, the more and more I realize that there is absolutely nothing happening for me that day.

Everyone knows that the wedding is all about the bride, but I’ve taken it upon myself to suggest to Ari on numerous occasions, that this wedding should be different.  I don’t even want drastic changes, I just want a song.

That’s all – just a song.

The bride typically gets to march down the aisle and have everyone look and think she’s great, right?  Well, that’s what I want.

I want to march down the aisle, and I want to march down it to this:

more about “Eye of the Tiger“, posted with vodpod

That’s right – “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor.  That epic fight song that fueled Rocky when he defeated Ivan Drago, will also fuel me as I walk down the aisle.

It’s the perfect song.

It’s all about rising above adversity (dating) defeating a bitter rival (psycho ex-boyfriend) and ultimately triumphing when no one thought you could (getting married means I’m finally mature, right?).

The way I picture it is the second the first note blasts from the speakers, I kick open the doors and come trotting inside the room.  As I make my way down the aisle, maybe I point at a couple people who believed in me, then get some high fives as I take my place up front.

This is something that needs to happen.  This will make my wedding unique and give me something to finally be excited about.  You know, aside from the actual getting married part and all that.

pure insanity

Last night on my way home from work, I somehow found a seat on the train without having to shove anyone to the ground, which made me happy.

Then, as I took my seat, ready to think about how I only have to make it through one more day before the weekend and the weekend is good even though when you wake up on Saturday morning it’s basically over, I noticed a woman standing in front of me, directly in front of the door.

Which made me unhappy.

It wasn’t anything she was wearing, and it wasn’t like she was singing loudly or anything like that, she was just… standing there.

I thought to myself, “Oh, well, clearly she’s just waiting for the next stop and that’s why she’s standing directly in front of the door and not off to the side.”

But then we arrived at a stop, and she just stood there.

So then I thought, “Oh, well, she’ll get off at the next stop.  This is fine.  You’re okay with this.  Let’s think about your dog’s ears.  Yes.  That makes you happy.”

But then another stop went by, and she was still… just… standing there.

And this is when I lost my mind.

I started fidgeting and looking around, thinking that someone had to be seeing this and what the hell is wrong with this woman???

I went over in my mind if I would ever just stand in front of the door for stops and stops and stops like some kind of mad man instead of just stepping aside and being more comfortable and I decided no!

No!

Then I started cursing the woman’s very existence with thoughts like, “What, does she think she’s better than me??? What, she doesn’t need to sit like everyone else??? Because I could stand too!  I’m not, but I could, dammit!”

Then we arrived at another stop, and she got off the train.

I settled down a little after that, but c’mon, it was still pretty weird.

things can be better

Wedding pictures are boring and cheesy.  Everyone knows this.

There’s the one where the bride is looking away in the distance.  There’s the one with the groom kissing the bride as the fake wind blows.  And then there’s the one with the woman crying because she’s finally realized that she can’t change her man and he will always watch TV in his underwear when her friends are visiting.

They are all terrible and in the end everyone wishes that they didn’t have to pose for any of them.

Of course I have the solution to this, because I am A Thinker.

I’ve decided that for my wedding pictures, I will have an angry falcon airbrushed onto my shoulder in every photo.

That’s right.

Not just a falcon.  Anyone could think of that idea.

An angry falcon.

I can even show you how amazing this idea is.

Here is a photo of Ari and I looking normal:

Awww... love and rainbows and kittens.

Boring!  Right?

Now here is one of us with an angry falcon:

Something is awesome - perhaps it's the angry falcon???

I bet you didn’t even know angry falcons looked like that, did you?  Well they do. But only the really pissed off ones.  That’s why you probably thought it looks vaguely like a parrot.

Now I ask you – which picture do you prefer?  The choice is clear.

Of course when I mentioned this idea to Ari, she laughed nervously and said something about “not remembering this idea,” but I think that means she thinks it’s perfect and we’ll do it.

Don’t you?

down for the count

Ever since I started boxing I’ve been – as caveman as it sounds – kind of wanting to get into a fight.  The only reason being that for the first time in my life I feel like I could actually kick some ass, instead of getting in two punches, closing my eyes and praying to the heavens that the gym teacher breaks it up soon.

The problem I keep running into is that fighting someone when you’re a thirty-year-old man is, you know, kind of frowned upon.

Plus the scope of what I would actually punch someone in the face for has dwindled significantly since I was a teenager.

Back in high school, a short list of Totally Acceptable Reasons To Punch Someone looked like this:

1) Someone took your pen.  Pens aren’t cheap!  Well, they kind of are, but that’s not the point fool!

2) Someone spilled something on your Starter.  Damn bro – you know I’m a Canes fan even though I don’t know any of the players and sports are confusing to me in general!  Stop playin’!

3) Someone looked at you.  What are you looking at?  You think this is some kind of looking party???

4) Someone beat up someone you barely knew but was popular.  Jim, I mean Gregg, I mean – whatever – he was awesome, so let’s get that dude!

5) Someone talked to the girl you might have eventually talked to but haven’t yet. We had so much in common! She has a “May the Schwartz Be With You” sticker on her binder too!

Of course I didn’t even fight in high school (the last fight I was in was in 8th grade), because I was a Class Clown-type, which we all know is that dude who can make everyone laugh but when The Shit Goes Down he is usually seen running away while wiping tears from his eyes.

And now that I’m older and those reasons don’t really apply once you graduate high school, I’m just not sure if I’ll ever get into a fight and be able to show off my abilities.

That truly does make me sad, but I guess it’s one less phone call from the police at 3:45 AM that my fiancée will have to worry about.

For now.

let it fly at your own risk

There are lots of things that I like to make fun of, which I think is what makes me such a mature individual, but few of them give me as much pleasure as laughing at someone who is puking.

I don’t mean puking because you ate some bad chicken, because that’s not really that funny, but puking because you drank eight sake bombs and then thought four shots of Petron would be the perfect way to follow that up.

So when I stepped out of the karaoke place on Saturday night and saw a girl bent over ralphing (the best synonym for puking there is), I just had to laugh, and of course, take a picture.

Might want to throw those shoes out.

It’s kind of hard to make out, but that girl in the white top is puking her guts out.  Her Man Friend is coming toward me, because he incorrectly kept telling me “That’s not funny man!”

I just kept laughing and insisting it was, because of course it was!  She was puking!  I think my exact words were, “Hahaha!  She’s puking!  Puke!”  And when he kept getting angrier I just shrugged and told him that it was too late because I had it all on film.  I’m a fun drunk.

I don’t know why people get so mad.  Someone throwing up in public is about the funniest thing ever.  I’ve been made fun of for puking by others and I wouldn’t expect anything less.

If you’re puking because of too much alcohol, quite simply, you deserve to be laughed at.  You acted like an idiot and now your body is revolting and telling you that maybe it’s time to reexamine your life.

I can’t help it – if I see a Puker, I am laughing.

So if you’re ever out with me and you feel your stomach rumble and you think you’re going to hurl, better get to the bathroom so I don’t see you.  Otherwise you better believe that I’ll be pointing and laughing, and hopefully taking a picture of you for all the world to see.

assassin

I’ve discovered something about myself that I feel compelled to share with you – I am an expert Uno player.

The best?  Perhaps.  Better than you? I would bet my first born on it.

It’s uncanny, really.  It’s like I have this sense that tells me when and how to play the perfect card, leaving my opponents shocked and awed in my wake.

I’m even better at Uno than I am at the times tables, which is

64!

See?  I’m so good at times tables that I knew you were thinking, “Well if you’re so good, what’s eight times eight?”  But I’m even better at Uno.

I know you’re stunned.  I know you’re wondering how on Earth I could have a blog and be good at Uno, but it’s true.

From now on, I’m going to have to issue a warning to all who play me, because the swiftness and ruthlessness with which I play can crush even the most skilled player.

You’ll be sitting there, admiring the blue cards being laid down, then bam!  Next thing you know I’m dropping a Wild Draw Four on your ass, changing the cards to green and asking if you want a box of tissues to wipe the tears that I know are on their way.

It’s that brutal.

And trust me, I’ve been skipped and I’ve seen reverses that would make Robocop frown.  But I remain unfazed through it all.

My eyes will pierce you with their calm during the storm, just waiting for the inevitable:  Me yelling “Uno bitches!” and someone after the game saying that they “Can’t stand playing games with Chris.  What the fuck is wrong with him?”

But this is the life I lead.  I did not choose to be skilled at this game, Uno chose me.

Come and challenge me if you feel you have the skills, but I must warn you, it will not end well for you.  I am the best Uno player that

28!