If I knew that updating a .plan file was this entertaining, I would have started doing semi-regular updates a long time ago. Oh well. My web space is located at http://nuthouse.org/~hendersa and I can be reached via e-mail at email@example.com. Archived .plan entries can be seen at http://nuthouse.org/~hendersa/finger. ********************************************* *15 May 2002 - Hey, You Guys Actually Voted!* ********************************************* Here I am, once again providing you fine folks with another round of entertainment at what is usually my expense. "But what exactly will this update be about?" is probably the question that is rolling around inside your noggin'. So, let's take a look at the voting results and see what update we have this time, mmmmmkay? Twenty-nine votes were cast for having this .plan update be another chapter in the horrid saga that pretty much has come to be known as the "Wedding From Hell". Most of the the folks that cast a vote for this one also congratulated me on getting married. A mere seven votes were cast for the "Rifles and ROTC" story. This suprises me, since this story offers far more action that the wedding story does. I guess you folks are more interested in personal torture than firearms. And finally, *NINE* votes came in for the category "Something New". That's right... the "other" category beat the ROTC story by two votes! People were typically more than happy to suggest what exactly my .plan update should consist of. The breakdown is as follows: - Two people wanted to hear about the "chick with the rack" and "my fiancee" that I was seen smootching in my last update. I'm quite sure she'll be flattered by your insightful observations. She's a girl, not a deer... she doesn't have a "rack", you dipsticks. - One person wanted a shot of my "manb00bs" to be the content of the update. I find this rather disturbing. Since there was only one vote for this "request", it is certainly not going to be the update item this time around. Democracy once again makes the world a safe place. - One person wanted to hear about my family because they are "obviously messed up people." I'll be sure to mention this keen piece of deductive reasoning at the dinner table during the next time I see my parents. - Two people wanted to hear about the fall of Loki from someone who was involved. I think I'll just steer clear of that entire mess. Just read any of the news stories out there that are smearing the reputations of Loki's former management all over the sidewalk... they unfortunately tend to be accurate. - Three people said that they figured that I had plenty of other funny stuff, so they'd like to hear about that. One noted that it had to be something funny that would fit in one update so that I could get back to the other stories. So there you have it... the "Wedding From Hell" is on the menu for today. But before we delve into that, I need to clear something up. I am NOT married. I am NOT engaged. A noteworthy number of you sent me your congratulations about landing the "wife" (the charming young lass pictured in the last update) as, well... a wife. Sadly, this is not the case. I looked at the caption of the photo in the last update as saying "I'd like to have a wife and kids some day. And I'm making progress! See?" All of you appear to have interpretted it to mean, "Looks like he's getting married. Poor guy. I'd better congratulate him." And congratulate me you did. I'll be sure to do a wedding registry next time I say something like that on the off chance of scoring a new toaster out of the deal. Goodness knows I need one. My current toaster's spring is so badly shot that the toaster plays a drum roll for you before barely boosting the toast high enough out of the slot for it to see you and say "Hi! Your damn toaster just burnt your toast to charcoal again! Yay!" Anywho, on with the story. Enjoy it, damn it.
Wedding Update**************************************** *15 May 2002 - The Table Of Misfit Toys* **************************************** When last we left things, I was sitting at an empty table in a large dining hall that was filled with quite a few of God's biggest fans. I was pondering my situation, because it was clearly a place I did not want to be. But somehow, I ended up there. I was rehashing the whole situation in my head and taking some mental notes on what I had actually done to deserve the hours of continued social anguish that were most certainly headed my way. But for now, I was safe. I was in a precarious position at the moment, but I didn't see any immediate threat. The eight person table I was sitting at had seven empty seats, and no one appeared too eager to come over to my table and strike up a conversation. Perhaps if I was really lucky, I would be left alone the entire time. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? After pondering my situation for a few minutes, I noticed that I wasn't going to be alone for long. A rather tall, thin, and gaunt man walked over to the table and stared at me for a few moments before sitting down. If you were looking at this guy for the first time, you could draw a variety of conclusions. The first of those conclusions was that he would have felt far more comfortable at a rave than a uber-Christian wedding reception. He looked about 26 or 27, and I could tell that this guy was out of his element. He had a thin and spotty goatee on his chin, and his short blonde hair looked like it had tried to get up and run away, and had almost succeeded. His eyes were bloodshot and half-open. His tie was cocked to the side, half of his shirt collar was flipped up, and the thin tail of his tie was in front of the thicker portion. One could take a wild shot in the dark and guess that he was already a few drinks towards making this event tolerable. But, that guess would be wrong. This guy was actually sober. I was getting the privlidge of seeing him in his "somewhat coherent" state. Lucky me. He settled into his chair while staring at me. He was sizing me up and down for a moment before he finally broke the ice. The first words out of his mouth were, "Where can I get a goddamn drink around here? Who ever heard of a wedding without a goddamn bar?" I looked at him blankly for a moment before shrugging and saying that I was guessing it was a dry wedding. In fact, I knew it was a dry wedding, since that's one of the few things that Leslie had told me about this whole adventure before I signed up. He mulled this over for about a minute before he looked at me again and said, "And who the hell are you? You don't look familiar." I started explaining to this guy that I was there with one of the bridesmaids, and that I didn't actually know anyone at the wedding. As soon as I mentioned "bridesmaid", he perked up. Well, he didn't really "perk up", per se... he actually just opened his eyes up to about 75% of the "awake" position. He started leaning off to the side of his seat to get a better look at the bridal party at the head table. He nodded his head towards the head table and asked, "Which one is yours?". I pointed out Leslie to him, and he stared at her for a few moments. Then he turned back to me and gave me his two cents. His keen assessment of Leslie went along the lines of "Hey, she's a real piece." I wasn't quite sure how I was supposed to respond to this bit of insight, so I just replied with "Yes, she's a real charmer, all right." He stared at me for a second, and then focused his attention on the waterglass on the table in front of him. He reached into the glass with his fingers and fished out an ice cube, which he then popped inside his mouth and began crunching really loudly. I was hoping that our conversation was over, and I picked up my water glass and took a sip. He pointed at Leslie at the head table, and said (between loud ice cube crunches), "She isn't a frigid bitch like the rest of them, right?" I almost had that sip of water come out my nose. People at the other tables were starting to peer our way and murmur. I was beginning to see why no one else was sitting at our table. Luckily, I didn't have time to answer the guy's question. Before I could, the rest of the people sitting at the table wandered in. Two young ladies and a very young little girl came over to the table. They were chattering away as they sat down, and then they both stopped talking and looked at me for a few moments. I offered a "hello!" to them, but they just kinda looked at me for a second. The little girl looked up at me, smiled, and said, "Hi, mister!" At least someone around here was friendly. I spun 90 degrees on my seat so that I was sitting sideways of my chair, and I leaned down to be closer to her height. I asked her how old she was, and she proudly said she was "this many" and she propped up three fingers. I smiled at her and she giggled a little before scrambling around the other side of the woman that I assumed to be her mother. She continued to peek at me from around the other side of the chair. Right about that time, the mother of the bride did a fly-by of our table. She noticed that everyone was there at the table now, so she decided to swing by and make some introductions. "Hello everyone!" She chirped out. "Has everyone here met Andrew?" The question got back a whole bunch of blank stares from everyone in response. The little girl raised her hand and said, "I met An-dew!" The mother of the bride smiled and patted the young girl on the head. Then, she proceded to introduce everyone to me. The barely-awake and alcohol-deficient young man at the table was named Jason, and he was the boyfriend of the maid of honor. The maid of honor was the bride's younger sister, who is also a major troublemaker that is giving her parents enough problems to ensure that there will be enough gray hair and ulcers for everyone. Don't worry, though... I'm sure that her parents are praying for her. And, as we all know, prayer is much better than doing something silly and ineffective like asking about their daughter's point of view or trying to give some advice that didn't come from a bible verse. Hallelujah! The young lady next to Jason was Julie, and she is somehow-or-another a friend of the bride. While she also had the look of someone who would have a bumper sticker on her car that said "I'd rather be raving", she didn't look quite as wild as Jason. Her eyes were badly bloodshot, and the stud that she had in the side of her nose clearly marked her as someone who didn't hang out with the rest of crowd at this event. She certainly didn't dress up that much for the event... she was wearing a pair of slacks and a simple top. Of course, for her that was probably very dressed up. In comparison to all of the elegant dresses and formalwear that everyone else had on, though, she really stood out. The woman sandwiched between Julie and myself was Casey. Casey is also a friend of the bride in some indirect fashion. The little girl, Mary, is Casey's daughter. Casey also had a very simple outfit on, which also made her stick out a bit in comparison to everyone else there at the event. Still, she had a daughter to look after while she was there, so I can imagine her being dressed for the functionality of chasing the kid all over the place. Aside from that, Casey could have easily blended in with the rest of the people at the reception if she had to. She was very quiet, and she sat there with a smile on her face. One could say that she appeared to be on mental cruise control. After the mother of the bride finished her quick introductions, she leaned over the table and told my three table-mates to have fun and to make me feel welcome, since I didn't know anyone at the reception. And with that, she bounced off just as fast as she had showed up in the first place. As soon as she left, everyone at the table turned to look at me. Julie got a sly look on her face and said, "Here all by yourself, eh?" Jason then tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and said, "I so hate that bitch." The very docile Casey suddenly went through a Jekyll and Hyde-esque transformation and began tugging little Mary's arm and yelling at her to take something out of her mouth. I turned my head to take a look at the head table and the bridal party. I caught Leslie's eye once again and she gave me a sheepish smile and a small wave. My mind was starting to run through the various ways I could kill Leslie and make it look like an accident. I should have headed for McDonalds when I had the chance. Clearly, the next few hours of the evening were going to be mighty interesting. Next Wedding Update: The Conversations Begin.