Ari and I are starting to put together some rough plans for the wedding, which mostly involves her doing everything and me watching Sportscenter, but there is one point that we both are stuck on – it’s just going to be a bunch of white people.
No black, no red, no blue, no nothing. Just a big sea of whites, talking about stock options and comparing loafers.
It’s a dilemma because we don’t want people to think we don’t love minorities, because we do! I mean, sometimes I even think Al Sharpton makes some good points!
But the truth is that we just don’t have any friends that aren’t white. Well, a couple of my friends are Greek and one is Colombian, but they’ve lived here so long they’re as white as golfing on a Sunday morning.
Faced with this Dire Situation Ari and I have started frantically trying to figure out who can fill that minority void.
The first one we thought of was this guy who always says hi to us when we walk Jack. The guy is black and we like him, so we thought he’d like to come. But then we remembered we don’t actually know his name and he doesn’t know ours, so he’s out.
Then we thought our upstairs neighbor would work because he’s black too, but I had to remind Ari that he probably doesn’t like us too much because whenever we come home wasted and I stand on the coffee table singing November Rain at the top of my lungs, he hears it.
Our final idea was to invite one of our landladies, who is black and a lesbian, but we thought she wouldn’t feel like driving to West Virginia to watch two people who call her at 6:45 in the morning to let them back in the apartment get married.
I had some minority friends in high school, but I can’t seem to track them down on Facebook by typing, “Not white friend” so they’re out too.
And really, that’s about it.
So here’s what we’ve decided. Any of you who are a minority and want to come to our wedding, you’re invited.
Of course you have to provide some kind of photographic proof, because I swear if you show up and you’re as white as me you’re getting kicked to the curb along with my alcoholic father.
If we can’t get any minorities, I guess we’ll go ahead with the wedding anyway, but it won’t be nearly as fun. It’ll just be a bunch of white people standing around in their pleated khakis, googling each other on their iPhones and talking about how much they love our new president Barack Obama.
Maybe he’ll come!