Compounded by the loss of an hour due to daylight savings, a group of friends awoke extra early on Sunday morning to drive to Chehalis for a friend’s wedding. It took me a while to get ready, as I have two basic modes of dress: schlub and whore. Now, when one is attending a wedding, dressing like a schlub is not acceptable, so whore it would have to be. I’m jealous of the girls who can do casual dresses, who can dress nicely without looking too dressed up–it’s a skill that I simply do not have. I ended up wearing this dress with some heels, the girls I went with were a little more casual.
The theme of the wedding: zombies. The ceremony was short and sweet, sans the metaphors about love and marriage which the bride and groom did not want, referencing lovecraftian horror and asking them to fight the zombies of daily life as tattooed hero and heroine, and aiding one another in not becoming zombies by taking the time to have joy in the small things.
It was after the wedding that the trouble started–for me, anyway. That’s when my latent freak magnet powers kicked in.
She approached me from across the room; hair bleached to within an inch of screaming and falling out, skin tanned into crocodile leather, voice gravelly from years of smoking, drinking, and gargling rocks. She complimented me, saying I looked beautiful, and I felt badly for judging her mere moments before. She then inquired if I was married, and I told her I wasn’t. When will I learn that the answer is ALWAYS yes? Yes, I have a husband! Yes, I have a boyfriend! Yes, I already have plans for that day! Yes, I’ve already eaten! Yes, I am familiar with whatever story you are going to tell!
But no, I had to answer in the negative. I am a fool, a moron, a wretch incapable of learning, and the next lesson was soon to begin as she grabbed my wrist in her steely talon and dragged me over toward two single relatives. “Boys, this is Melissa. She is single and SEXY.” One look at their faces and it was evident that they were not in agreement with The Claw about my perceived level of attractiveness, and they weren’t even going to attempt to fake it for politeness’ sake. It was clear from my posture, from my facial expressions, from the very awkward small talk I was trying to make with The Claw standing over my shoulder that I had not put her up to this introduction, that I was not looking to trap them into InstaMarriage or leap on them and crush them with my monstrous thighs while making wildebeest noises, but still they wanted to take no chances by interacting with me.
My eyes widened into those of a trapped animal as she then grabbed the wrist she was still clasping in iron fingers and forced it up to shake the reluctant hand of one of the pair. The other, who clearly did not get the memo that ‘schlub’ was not appropriate wedding attire, made a face, rolled his eyes at me, grabbed his beer, and walked away without speaking a single word to me. My friends all stood, watching this exchange in increasing horror: I was now a spectacle. The single saving grace was that The Claw had released me when I shook Remaining Douchebag’s hand, and after thirty more seconds of the most stilted conversation in the history of man, moreso than even those had by the progenitors of language when both participants did not know the same words, I was able to flee back to the people who witnessed the entire awful scene.
We eventually decided to go outside and visit with the bride’s dogs, who were shut in the room underneath the porch. A child watched us go in and started insistently banging on the door and peering through a crack at us, demanding to be let in. Someone told him there were no children allowed–when he asked why, I told him it was because children are stinky. We collapsed into laughter and he ran off indignantly, only to return a minute later with the withering comeback of “No! YOU are stinky!”. He then ran off to tell his mom on us, returned again and shouted “HEY! I have something to tell you! Kids don’t stink no worser than adults do!” and THEN his mom attempted to peer in through the crack, demanding to know who was inside.
…as it turned out, his mom was the wedding guest whom we had come to refer to as the Cave Troll—the one with the permastoned face and carabiners hanging in her ears with plastic skulls dangling from said carabiners, what looked like a butt tattooed on her back dangling from a pentagram, vomit tattooed on her right upper arm, knee-high buckled boots straight out of Hot Topic paired with a sequined dress so tacky it had to have shipped from the Pyramid collection…and who REEKED of B.O. No, child, it is my sad duty to inform you that not all adults stink–just your mom. And hobos.
Yikes – we need to buy you a cubic zirconia ring to wear for these sorts of occassions! LOL
Speaking of zombies, are we gonna shoot for the zombie walk again this year?
Maybe. I’m kind of burned out on zombies. I wish the trend would die gracefully but since it’s about the undead, it won’t.
I told him it was because children are stinky.
*cocked eyebrow*
Stay classy.
Way to take personal offense about something neither directed at you nor your kids!
Honestly it was FAR better than my response would have been, which would be something along the lines of “Well kids are allowed, but spoiled brats aren’t, so you can’t commin in”. Doesn’t roll off the tongue but still… “Classy”
I have a feeling his mom would have taken more offense to my calling him a spoiled brat than using the word stinky, because the former is a more direct insult to her parenting abilities. I clearly don’t know from classy, so I’m not sure which is actually worse, and since Chris defriended me I guess I’ll never know, and will have to wallow in my base behavior forever.
This Chris guy is a douche and unworthy of your awesomeness.
That’s the thing though, he’s not. We did a Reno 911 style video a few years back and he’s very funny and smart and generally all around pretty nice. I’m a little bummed that it came to this.
He blew up over essentially nothing, and to unfriend over something so insignificant… I don’t know. Either he’s on the rag or there’s something else going on.
I’m at work, so my ability to see the good in people is somewhat diminished at the moment.
My ability to see the good in people is predicated on the availability of a scalpel and strong sedatives.
Are you sure you mean “the good” and not “the goods”?
One and the same, really.
So very true.
Well, it IS an “irrational” robot…
Furthermore, I’m entitled to my opinions–I don’t want children, I don’t care for children, I don’t find them cute or entertaining, and you can’t shame me into thinking that having children is worthwhile or that I ought to tap into some motherly instinct and treat each little monster like he was my own precious angel. I didn’t permanently emotionally scar the little bastard by making a joke at his expense.
If the stick currently up your ass is that you would be appalled if someone told your precious angels that they were stinky, well, it wouldn’t have happened if this kid was supervised by a competent adult. You don’t want classless people like me around your kids? I don’t want to BE around kids so we would have an accord if only parents didn’t assume that every other adult wants to supervise and assist in raising their children.
Never said that you had to like kids, just found the remark rude.
If the stick currently up your ass is that you would be appalled if someone told your precious angels
Nice strawman.
You gave me no indication of why you decided to call me out, only flung a rude remark yourself. How else am I supposed to respond, given that you chose not to expound? I keep forgetting that calling out rudeness by being equally rude is acceptable, what with two wrongs making a right. The important thing is that we’ve all learned that I’m classless.
*edit* oooooooh, I see. I am just supposed to shut up and take it. Now the defriending and LJ AND facebook within seconds. Well, it is important for people to stay with their own class, I guess. I’d certainly hate to taint you with my presence.
It was obvious that your comment about kids being stinky was done in a playful way (a la boys not allowing entrance to a treehouse because girls drool, boys rule). Unless it was their home, the kid and his mother demanding to know who was in there and be let in was itself rude.
But really who cares? I doubt they’ve spent any time fretting over it. For anybody reading this to get their panties in a twist to the point of de-friending you? All I can say is that they take themselves way too seriously.
~Shannon
Lady
You have the best stories EVER 🙂 Though now I’m questioning my self worth as a human being and wondering if I secretly hate children as I didn’t notice anything alarming when I first read your story…but after the commentary…I’m ALARMED oh YES I’m ALARMED INDEED! *wink* I feel shamed. I laughed. I thought “stinky” was supposed to be funny. I was wrong…WRONG.
Re: Lady
Yeah, it was intended to be funny, it was funny at the time, it didn’t mean any harm, the mom wasn’t pissed about the stinky remark, but now I know just what a rotten human being I am.
Re: Lady
YOU are a delicate flower 😉 I don’t believe you *hug*
Re: Lady
I get it, I certainly don’t behave admirably all the time, and I don’t expect people to kiss my ass when I’m wrong. But at the same time, if someone is going to call me out for being a shitty human being, I do expect that they’ll have a reason for it other than “You’re bad and I don’t like you.”
Re: Lady
“Irrational” indeed. Seriously, wtf? Anyway, I thought it was funny, and I do like kids and want them someday. *shrug*
Re: Lady
I read it as just talking to a kid like a kid would, and joking around. I don’t really see any reason for offense to be taken. Oh, internet.
Re: Lady
Hon, I’ve got two kids myself and *I* didn’t take any offense whatsoever in your words. As a parent, I took a greater offense at an unsupervised child DEMANDING to be let in or know what’s going on behind a closed door. That sort of sense of entitlement that kids have, and it being followed by the mom’s follow-up of similar attitude, is what *I* find incredibly offensive.
Maybe it’s just that, while I grew up on a farm, I wasn’t raised in a barn. I was taught that children are to show respect to adults, that children didn’t get to have whatever they want just because they want it (and throwing a tantrum or whining CERTAINLY wouldn’t get the desired result). So if ANYTHING about this story pissed me off, it was that insolent little bratty kid and his indulgent and inattentive mom.
Whatever is up this person’s butt is, I can almost guarantee, not about you but about some other shit hitting the fan of his life right now. The thing I can’t guarantee is that he’ll man up when the dust settles, come to you, and apologize for his very apparent over-reaction.
Re: Lady
Actually, we’ve already talked it out. He explained why he thought it was rude for me to say that to a kid, and I explained why I flipped out over the phrase ‘stay classy’, so everything is fine.
Re: Lady
True ‘dat. 🙂
She then inquired if I was married, and I told her I wasn’t. When will I learn that the answer is ALWAYS yes?
From my experience, even when the answer is yes or “NO I’M A LESBIAN,” the freaks still don’t leave you alone.
Unfortunately, yeah, they tend to stay in orbit regardless. She then came back and had me fetch her drinks and told me a woman’s place is in the kitchen.
What was she doing at what sounds like an awesome wedding? Crazy aunt?
Yeah, crazy aunt by marriage, I think.
You should be writing a column in a newspaper. You should be syndicated. You are too funny to hide away in LJ land. I am amused constantly.
*bows low* I’m now worthy!
*bows low* I’m now worthy!
I’m always happy to know I’ve amused someone. 🙂 Maybe one of these days the pieces will fall into place and I’ll get to write for a bigger audience but for now I’m good with LJ!
So for now, I’ll just keep reading it multiple times so you will at least get read more often.
Oh my dear.. The Claw! You should be columnist.. it was funny.. all of it.
Maybe Dave Barry will have a freak accident and I can take his job. 😉
Where was this blessed event? The wall-treatment behind the cake is THEE EXACT SAME as the wall treatment in my boyfriend’s bathroom. COOL COINCIDENCE!
It took place in your boyfriend’s bathroom, actually. It was carefully orchestrated to be done when he was out of the house.
HIS WALLPAPER IS PAINTED BEIGE. YOU’RE A DAMN LIAR.
And I miss you <3
I miss you more. I’m frustrated and need Lanny-time. <3
I miss you ten times a day. <3
I’ll be there in a few weeks to get a carro.
If you have any date flexibility, you should come out for the 17th and my science birthday!
I wish I did!! I’m coming over the weekend of the 10th (via pdx) to get a car, etc.
I’m starting school on the 5th, so I’ve got to be around for that shit. Ugh. Dumb.
um, wow.
Hilarious story, terrible experience. I am usually very into saying things like “I’m not looking for anything right now.” or “I do fine, thankyou.”
I think I’m going to start going with ‘I’m actually a man.’