(Of course, most of what we discuss on this BB is valuable. Fun, irreverent, poignant, scathing, numbing. However, I am going to start using this ol' BB to spew some of the psychological and intellectual vomit that congests my weary mind.)
(Some might be humorous. Some not. Others complete nonsense.)
(Read this and the "Ruminations" that follow, if you like. Respond if you desire. But remember that, most of all, these posts are serving an admirable function for my brain...garbage in; garbage out. Exorcising the demons, so to speak.)
1/20
We are "planning" a wedding. For those that haven't been down this road, or for those who fly off to Bora Bora to have an indigenous shaman complete the nuptial in an odd tongue, in solitude, this phenomenon will seem perfectly benign...perhaps lovely and "blessed."
Not so. Step 1: Reception hall. Step 2: Venue for the "I do." Step 3: Entertainment. Step 4: Photographer. Step 5: Florist. Step 6: Transportation. Step 7: Women's dress. Step 8: Men's dress. Step 9: Table dressings. Step 10: Honeymoon.....Steps 11, 12, 13, 14, 15......27.....39.....51......you get the idea.
Now, many of my esteemed comrades here may know that I am pretty much a one- to five-step man, at best. For instance, I wake (1), I shower (2), I dress (3), I take the animals outside and feed them (4), I drive to work (5). Simplicity is the key to a fulfilling, tolerable existence.
But there is a snag: I share my life with a woman who is a five- to-fifty step individual. For instance, take the same ordinary Monday morning. She wakes (1), she goes back to sleep (2), she wakes (3), she goes back to sleep (4), she wakes (5), she complains about the dogs barking so loud (6), she showers (7), she says the water pressure is light (8), she wraps herself in Cleopatra-like garbs (9), she fucks with her hair for an hour (10), she fucks with the little bit of makeup she wears for a half-hour (11), she dresses (12), she fucks with her hair some more (13), she asks me if she'll "be cold wearing this" (14), she asks me if the dogs have been outside (15), she asks me what I am doing after work (16)........she drives to work (36).
See the pattern?
How am I to cope with something like this?
Well, that is another issue entirely, one that will probably be the subject of a later "Rumination."
So, returning to the wedding plans. I will choose only ONE step: the wedding cake.
My lady, ostensibly at least, values my opinion. "What kind of cake should we have?" Fuck. Now I'm cornered. "Uhhhhh, how about yellow cake, a layer of white chocolate cream, chocolate cake layer, vanilla frosting?" WRONG answer. "Oh, YELLOW cake?" she asks. The answer to this inquiry is simple: Yes, fucking YELLOW cake...I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want to eat it. "I don't know if yellow cake is good with chocolate cake," she replies. Then NEVER ask me again, because the answer will ALWAYS be the same.
And the shapes of the cake. Oh, good Lord, the shapes of the cake. "Honey, which one do you like best?" Here, she shows me three pictures, all of which look EXACTLY the same: A big round layer, a smaller round layer, an even smaller round layer, and these four Doric Greek columns that suspend another layer of cake. "Hmmmmm...which one?" she again asks. "Oh, Christ, baby, they all look the same." WRONG answer. Any idiot would see that there are different fruits or flowers on these three cakes, right? How could I be so incredibly stupid?
In sum, I'm always wrong, and I can more easily build a small thermonuclear device than accurately reflect what my lady wants and "plan" a wedding.
NOTE: Yes, I cannot tell the difference between three cakes. But mind you, this woman would have NO idea if I came home with a blue 1973 Toyota LandCruiser instead of my blue 1978 Jeep CJ-5...Hey, they're both blue.
I suppose everything has a way of balancing, at least in relative terms.
