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Monday, 17 March
Synthetic Xenomorphs Are Happy To Be Of Service

Well, the wedding is less than two months away, so I'd better give fair warning that the entries here might get a little more sparse. I mean, we've got everything more or less under control, but of course there are more and more little shitheaps to trip over along the way. Holy shit, we've got to get a marriage license! Also, a banquet license so our friends can drink! Definitely a banquet license so we can drink! (Thoughtful pause.) JESUS CHRIST! Do you realize how much people are going to drink?! At least Cap'n Bush is doing his best to make things festive. I can see it now. "Aw, look at that, you're crying. Is it because you're so happy for us?" "That, and I'm anesthetizing myself against the gibbering fear-imp that gnaws on my neck each and every day in this terrifying, uncertain world full of blinding madness. But mostly because I'm happy for you. I got you pretty blue towels." "Oh, fuck the towels, give me a drink. Christ, I'm depressed."

Tomorrow we go to meet with the nice 'n' clenched mansion people to talk about meal options (my votes for corn dogs and fries have been loudly shouted down), review information regarding the band (a peppy little outfit named Gapin' At Your Mom; the cool thing is that they'll play for bottles of cough syrup), and oh, of course, how could I forget, give them a check. We've done most of the calculations, and we're pretty sure the figure is going to be . . . let's see, carry the two . . . yes, yes . . . yes, it's a million dollars. I'm pretty sure that's it. No, of course not, it just feels like a million dollars, because in my life, I have never written a check this big. I've never bought a house; my car cost $450; and my student loans are paid whenever the jar of pennies fills up. So it's a big deal for me, especially since I'm handing it over to people who, while again, are very nice, seem on occasion to be made of extruded plastic.

And you know, for extruded plastic animated entities, they sure have a lot of snitty fucking rules (not that I am conversant with other lilac-scented, money-snatching plastigolems, but I'm just saying). They have one entry on SPARKLERS: "not permitted as 'send-off' favors." Oh, well, that's a relief. But we can still have them hanging out of our assholes during the ceremony per my Estonian folk tradition, right? Whew. Or FURNITURE: "may not be rearranged . . . without the permission of . . . authorized Mansion personnel." That seems Draconian. Do I have to get Dolph over to my table to help me with Operation: Scoot In Chair? Or are they worried that my frenzied guests are going to push the grand piano into the fireplace? Okay, that actually is probably good policy. There are, yes, INSTRUCTIONS FOR FLORISTS, which has this alarming bit of information: "The oak candle stands hold flowers 1" in diameter." One inch? Sorry, honey, I guess it's stalks of Kentucky Bluegrass or nothing. But this one is my favorite: "Due to a dangerous metal band used in packaging, Andre champagne is not allowed." What? What is it made of, uranium? Or does it rapidly convert into a shiv? No wonder they stopped serving it in prisons. "No more Andre for the cons! Kitchen stabbings are through the roof! From now on it's Boone's Farm or nothing." Christ, like I can't do better than Andre on my fucking wedding day anyway.

Well, actually, I'll be lucky to afford Andre, now that I think about it. I just coughed up a million dollars.

XOXOX | Skot | 17 Mar, 2003 |

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Comments

You need a banquet license? What The Hell? Isn't it in the constitution somewhere that you have the right to congregate a large crowd and get drunk and brawl and smash up cars or something?

Comment number: 000478   Posted by: Neale on March 17, 2003 08:53 PM from IP: 208.164.8.12

I can understand how fries would get shot down as a menu item. It's very clever of you to leave out part of the name, but we all know that they're FRENCH and that's a no-no. But corn dogs? Corn dogs are as American as Mom, apple pie, and preemptive war. Corn dogs! Corn dogs!

That is going to be domestic champagne, isn't it?

Comment number: 000479   Posted by: Anapestic on March 18, 2003 07:36 AM from IP: 216.181.58.90

Isn't it in the constitution somewhere that you have the right to congregate a large crowd and get drunk and brawl and smash up cars or something?

Where do you think I live, Australia? Man, I get all the nuts.

Comment number: 000480   Posted by: Skot on March 18, 2003 07:49 AM from IP: 140.107.120.123

Dangerous metal band? Great White?

Comment number: 000481   Posted by: jej on March 18, 2003 08:11 AM from IP: 12.107.242.5

That is going to be domestic champagne, isn't it?

Wait a minute. There's no such thing as domestic champagne, unless you're writing FROM FRANCE! ADMIT IT, FROGGIE!

Comment number: 000482   Posted by: mark on March 18, 2003 10:35 AM from IP: 66.47.18.130

On dirait pas "domestic champagne" en France: on dirait simplement "champagne" parce que tout le monde sait qu'il n'y a pas de champagne sauf le champagne français.

Um. I mean: nuh uh.

Comment number: 000483   Posted by: anapestique on March 18, 2003 12:23 PM from IP: 216.181.58.90

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