Marriage is like the army. Everybody complains, but you’d be surprised at how many re-enlist.

“Marriage is the process of finding out what kind of man your wife would have preferred”

Marriage quotes – they’re hysterical!

Hello world! I am not hungover anymore. I am tired. I slept like 10 hours last night, but I feel like I could easily go back to sleep for another 8. But I can’t. Why? You. You and your menacing passive aggressive digital stares. And because I have to move my car. FUCK! When I post for you, I get some sort of compliment or at the very least attention. People love attention. I get paid a little attention. Where as the street sweeper patrol gives me no attention. If I correctly move my car every day for 10 years to avoid getting a ticket, I don’t get a pat on the back, chest, top of the head, inner thigh. Nope. I’ll get nothing. And if I don’t move my car BAM! $42 ticket. Immediately. Always. Fuck these streets. Fuck the sweeping of them 4x a week. But you, my readers, I do not say “fuck thee” oh dear ne’er dost I proclaim “fuck thee”. I perch e’er fortnight on the hill tops with a whisper, “Hark my call not fuck thee, but ‘fuck me’. Aha! Fuck me in Jersey City!” Ca-CAW! Jezebel gypsies of the nigh’ with your pleated skirts…

Anyway, I went to a wedding over the weekend. I took pictures. I will tell you about the wedding and show you some of the pictures. But I have a problem. My problem is that I don’t have too many stories to tell about this wedding that involve myself. I was going to talk about my friend Dave’s wedding and how I got blackout drunk at that, but I don’t remember if I’ve already told that story on KSWI. Have I? Have I dear readers? Why don’t you answer me!?! Speak up, damn it!

Well, I’ll tell it or retell it once you tell me if I have told it or not told it. So… later this week.

BOOM! This is where the wedding was. The one I went to on Saturday. Not to be confused with the wedding where I blacked out, which oddly enough was only a couple miles from where BOOM! is. Back to BOOM!

This is Oheka Castle. You may remember Oheka Castle as where one of the heads of the Jonas Brothers got married. In my mind, the Jonas Brothers are almost exactly like mythological hell dog Cerberus. The Brothers Jonas share one body, but have three heads. They don’t appear to be the guardian of the gates of Hell, but at the same time I don’t really keep tabs on what they’re up to day-to-day, so they could be watching those gates. I do know they sing professionally. Generally speaking, professional musicians work at night and have a lot of free time during the day. So one could guess that the Jonas Brothers guard the gates of Hell to make sure no demons get out and no unwanted fool hearty heroes want in. Then at night time, they may hire some other menacing creature like Emmanuel Yarborough or Arizona Governor Jan Brewer to watch the gate for them, so the Brothers can go sing their songs for a happy nation of squealing girls.

Oheka Castle is on Long Island. Is it “on” Long Island or “in” Long Island? I think it is both and it needs to be solved with throwing a cat in a metal box with poison in it. You know what I’m saying? So, there is a castle called Oheka on Long Island and that is where my cousin got married. A castle. Pretty amazing, right? The castle comes of course with a golf course as all castles should.

Here is the hoopah. The chosen people, the gilded crew, the Dream Team from Bene Barack, the Israelites, the Jews… get married under a hoopah. Why? Because Jews are very conscious of sudden showers. Rain on a wedding day? Pffft, we’re Jewish! We’ve thought ahead! We’ve got a hoopah! Actually, it has some religious reason I suppose, but Jews are a practical people and the hoopah is a wedding umbrella.

Here is my cousin, the bride, with my aunt and uncle coming out of the castle(!). If you are sitting there wondering why I didn’t zoom in this picture it is because I took this picture with my PHONE! MY PHONE! So, it is a dame good picture for a phone. Literally, this picture is passable as a picture taken from a device that simply takes pictures. Instead this picture is taken from an electronic device that actually allows me to have a conversation with anyone in the world and send them dirty messages that I regret sending when I’m drunk.

There we go. Here is the happy couple actually literally getting married. It is happening right there! Can you see it!?! CAN YOU FEEL IT!?! At one point, the Rabbi I read an excerpt from a Rumi poem and if it weren’t for this website I wouldn’t know who Rumi is/was. A commentator from long ago mentioned Rumi. I do not know what happened to that young lady of Rumi. Does she still read the website? Has she given up on me? Was she such a fan of Rumi she gave up all her worldly possessions and now she walks the desert of the Middle East? Did she get a job where blogs are blocked and she does not take the time to read my comedic ramblings at home? Who knows? I don’t. Nevertheless! Fidelity! Marriage! Consecration vows! Conviction! And afterwards…

TA-DA! The married couple. Looking great. Feeling great. And best wishes to them in everything they do. They are in Amsterdam right now I believe, so if you want to give them your best wishes just go track them down over there. I would imagine they’ve changed their clothes, so don’t look for my cousin in her wedding dress. She’s probably in a t-shirt or jeans or something, but definitely not the wedding dress.

So yes! It was a beautiful wedding.

And I was there. Don’t believe me?

Ah-ha! That is me! Oh me oh thee oh me.

What other stupid faces can I make?

Left eyebrow raised. Confident. Kind of a “Why yes, I did key your car now what the fuck do you want to do about it.”

The right eyebrow raised. Concerned. Kind of a “Did I set-up my DVR to tape ‘Mad Men’? I don’t think I did. I hope Dawgz does. And I may have farted.”

Ahhhh, I’m fucking with you. I didn’t fart. Not in the tux at least. That thing was rented. I can’t sully the fabric of something I need to return.

And lastly… I will say this. I will submit other “want” pictures, but this is about all you have to do. Can you beat this?

I want it. But, I am going to emphatically say “YES!” that all of you can want that much and/or more. Plus I cannot win my own contest.

One more picture from the wedding…

Everyone is dancing.

Even me.

Kind of.

Given certain circumstances, I will dance. Not well. But I’ll sort of get into it. By and large, I do stay away from dancing because I am not good at it. Why? Well, I’m not good at it. This stems from a general lack of practice I suppose. I believe anyone can get good at anything given practice. Shooting a basketball, writing with your other hand, speaking a foreign language. Dancing falls under that category as well. So, I’m at a wedding. They’re playing music I don’t really want to dance to. And, I haven’t danced in who knows how long. But it is what you are supposed to do. Not only supposed to do, but have to do. There is nothing else to do. You can’t say “drink” because you are supposed to dance and drink.

But I don’t want to. I don’t want to dance. I feel like I’m in the reverse of “Footloose”. I’m in a town of people who are forcing me to dance. They’re yelling at me, “You have to dance!” But I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to dance, Shaw. Please stop yelling at me to dance. Plus the songs that I’m supposed to dance to are not songs I want to dance to. Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl”? It’s a good song and all, but I don’t find it particularly dance-y. I generally picture that song as more or less background music. I never hear that song and immediately am like “I need to fucking dance!”

Anyway, it was a nice wedding. And congratulations to them and their marriage and their future and hopefully their insane times in Europe this week and next week on their honeymoon.