Tag Archives: getting married is weird

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!


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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.


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saturdays are supposed to be fun

Tomorrow, since I’m getting married or something like that, Ari and I have to go register.

For those of you lucky enough to not know what this entails, allow me to explain: You and your spouse-to-be/person who lasted the longest without wanting to strangle you, go to stores and pick out items that people coming to your wedding can buy for you as a wedding gift.

Now, in theory this sounds fun – hey, let’s get a bunch of free stuff!  But trust me, this is not going to be fun for me.  We’re not going to places like Best Buy and the Apple Store, or even shopping online at NFL.com and NBA.com.

No.  We’re going to places like Crate and Barrel (or as I like to call it, much to Ari’s annoyance, Crap and Bullshit) Macy’s and Bed Bath and Beyond (hell on earth).

If I was in charge of registering, I’d be picking out sweet Steelers jerseys, an X-Box and maybe some cool Knicks mugs.  But because for some strange reason everything isn’t about me, we’ll be getting stuff like this:









This is what registering is all about.  Spending hours and hours picking out stuff – that goes together! – that you don’t really care about.

Keep me in your thoughts tomorrow, is what I’m trying to say.


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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:

Vodpod videos no longer available.

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.


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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.

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???

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?


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Yesterday Ari and I went shopping for shoes because somehow when I got back from Mexico, the bottoms of my favorite shoes fell off.  I think it was their way of rebelling against things like civilization and work.

We went to several different places before she finally found a pair of boots that she liked and I found a new pair of shoes to replace my rebellious ones, and as we waited on line to pay for them, something odd happened.

I will forever remember that moment as, The Moment When That Odd Thing Happened.

I was talking to Ari about how my new shoes will impact my personality (probably increasing my coolness by 17%) when the woman who sold me my shoes said to the cashier, “These are for the husband.”



I’ve never been called that before.  It sent shock-waves up and down my spine and maybe made my hands start sweating.

To Ari’s credit, as soon as it happened, she knew she had A Situation on her hands, and looked for signs of shock.

I turned to her and stammered, “Did she just call me a husband???  I don’t know how I feel about that.  I think I’m getting cold feet!”  Of course I was acting like my usual overreacting-self, so Ari took it all in stride and eventually calmed me down.  But it was quite the scene.

I know I’m not even married yet, but for intents and purposes, I am a “husband.”  I just haven’t done the formalities, like dancing to The Hokey Pokey and pretending not to cry when Wind Beneath My Wings comes on.

Hearing someone refer to me this way touched me in a very real and profound way.  It made me start thinking about relationships, and how they can be like the sweetest flower, growing and blossoming into something so beautiful that they are appreciated for a lifetime.

Or maybe it just made me feel old.


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