laura and brian's wedding was good. it was hella catholic. her husky dog was the ringbearer. dudes were crying and people were stoked for them and their newfound marital status. and so forth. their friends kinda huddled together at the reception, and their families kinda hung out in another group. the friends were like the girls at a junior high school dance, and the relatives were like the boys: the friends danced together, and the relatives stayed on the sidelines. it was fun. i made sure to get sleep the night before, so i could wake up early, show up on time, and act like a normal human being. i even helped clean up a ton of trash after the reception!! no wonder everyone's parents love me... and urge me to take home all the leftover wine from their children's weddings.
a few days before, i drove across the golden gate bridge for the first time in my entire life. indeed my life has been a sheltered one, and will be one from cradle to grave if i have any say in the matter. after the wedding reception, i crossed the golden gate after dark for the first time. san francisco fog flowed across the bridge like a lovely river of grey pea soup. mike force!! F.M.U.S.A!! fat wing, fit wang, fat wang... poo-poo & tang. F.M.U.S.A!! yeah whatever. that made no sense. just trying to segue to the party, here.
57 moss and their friends love me because i showed up with an almost completely full 5 liter box of franzia white zinfandel from the reception. they love me because it comes in a cardboard box with a tap on it, and that's kinda ghetto. but they love me most of all because it was 5 frickin' liters. they've cleared the junk out of the basement and converted it into a graffiti laden punk disco dance space, which will increase the quality of their parties exponentially. this guy was telling hysterical stories about losing on "rock n roll jeopardy!" and being from new york & dealing with guidos on a daily basis. all of his guidos sounded exactly like andrew "dice" clay: "WUDdayew, sum coin-duh VAM-pie-yuh uh SUMtin'?!?!" hellyn showed up and was all "yo wassup, crackhead?" i was all "wassup with you, bride of crackenstein?" she was all "omg, you're hella mean." maybe you need to see it with the full-throttle, white-knuckle hairweave&longfingernails chickenhead neck-swerve, to understand the truly refined comedy of that repartee. things were basically slammin', and people were cruising along on crunk fumes, then robin (who was deejaying, and who'd also been at laura's wedding earlier) somehow caused a huge fight between the 57 moss roommates. lloyd was screaming at victoria, throwing his drink and moistening everyone within the prescribed "splash zone," and people were all "whoa!! stand back. dude is flipping out. he's likely to demonstrate some karate, or wail on his axe, at any moment." it's all cool, though. san francisco can't surprise me anymore. and then the ramones, donkey kong, and the cops dropped by. i told the cops to chillax and save their breath, because the shit was winding down, anyway. so they gave me this lecture about how they don't care if i throw a party, as long as i keep the noise down... as if i live there or something. you know?
don't tread on me!! F.M.U.S.A.!! i have a camouflage belt!! F.M.U.S.A.!! don't make me beat you with your own flashlight, swisser pig!! dare to dream to dare to dream to dare to dream to dare to dream to dare to dream.
i am wan ku du.
