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.

Why did I write 2 posts about some event I didn’t even watch?

I did save the other 11 pictures to my desktop inside the clever “New Folder” folder. Also your “you can write about it because I guess you’ll make it funny” responses gave me enough motivation to ……………. actually it didn’t motivate me that much. I guess I deserve it. I’ll give it the good old college try because lord knows this college education of mine is not being used for anything AND I MEAN anything else.

In the two years I have been working at this current company coupled with the four or so other jobs I have had, I have not used my brain once. Like really used my brain. Well that’s a rough estimate. I don’t think I would be too far off though if a statistical sheet of my brain usage was presented to me by some omniscient intern at this moment. Although, I do use my brain regularly. At the same time at work, I write this which is some clever shit. I’ve written other stuff too. Also outside of work my friends keep me on my toes. Do you know what we discussed while watching Monday Night Football?

Social Darwinism.

No fucking joke. Social Darwinism. I don’t know if that is something to be happy about or depressed, but it’s true. We didn’t talk about it the whole game, but there was a solid half hour. We also talked about the dirtiest thing we know a person has done at strip clubs with an “s”, multiple clubssssss (spoiler alert – it is fucking disgusting). What can I say? We are complex creatures.

Mo’ funny please.

Woof. I don’t know who all these people are, but the internet is my friend and he/she has all the answers for me. The internet is most definitely a he/she hermaphrodite cross dressing TS sex demon that also can be educational. I do know most of these peoples’s’s’s’ names, but that doesn’t mean I watch their shows or what have you. For example, I hate Entourage. Hate it. I hate Entourage, but I find it unavoidable finding out these doofusses names and an even harder time forgetting them once I associate my hate with them.

I know Michael C. Hall who is the spaced out mannequin looking one of the two. He was on Six Feet Under which I loved. The female is on Dexter with him. If I look up Dexter on my crack addiction (IMDB) her name is Jennifer Carpenter. I’ll forget her name. I have pure antipathy towards her minus her bulging gallant right arm. I’m transfixed by it. It looks lean and like it should be palming a basketball. Everything else outside of that right arm appears lifeless and slightly pathetic in this picture. I bet Michael C. Hall can slow his resting heart rate to 0. He would be great in one of those emergency situations where you are locked in a room and need to conserve oxygen. He could just zone out and stop breathing altogether.

I fulfilled one request. Tina Fey and the original Tina Fey, Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Both are sexy and funny. See I don’t think only the 20 year olds are hot. It’s like there is a cap limit for you all about how many hot people can be in the intersubjective “hot bank”. More the merrier in my opinion. They’re all hot. Who cares? It doesn’t make one more hot or less hot. I’m not gauging this all on a sliding scale. Blake Lively is hot, Leighton Meester is hot so are all the other girls I’ve seen on those Gossip Girls commercials. It is more like a pass/fail system. 

Anyway, Julia looks like she wants it and is egging on Tina Fey by twisting something in her back. Julia has been comfortable being attractive/funny/quirky/nuts longer than Tina so she just needs that added fist in the spine boost. Tina is hesitant. She’ll learn. By the way, they are both funny. Really funny. Like as if they were men funny. Oh damn you Jordan and you saying something like that. You rascal.

Blam! Jenna Fischer is hot. See? It doesn’t effect how hot the others are. Jenna Fischer’s hotness is completely independent of all other hotnesses. Oh Christ she’s hot. She wants it and her cleavage does as well. They want it so bad they’re nearly leaping out of that dress. This Dean Winters look-a-like I don’t know. I don’t even know how I would figure out who he is regardless. Whatever website I got these pictures from I’m not going back to look up who he is. I remember it having to mention he is a “writer” in parenthesizes. Fuck that guy. I’m a “writer”. I could sit there in a black suit next to hot ass cleavagey Jenna Fischer looking at the camera and saying with my eyes “You’re kidding me right? I know. She wants it. If only God could some how exert the effort for just a bit more gravity at this moment.”

Skeletor and Cruella de Vil. Get these people some ice cream! I think this is the best time to mention I’m 100% opposed to the remaking of Footloose. I don’t care who is in it. It will be terrible. The original is perfect. There is not one scene that could be improved upon. They can’t make a shot-by-shot remake because the original only makes sense in its sheer original idiocy. The movie makes no sense, but it is perfect.

I don’t know if you realize how much 80’s movies make zero sense, but not many of them do make sense. Actually not a lot of movies make sense, but 80’s movies ridiculousness makes them all perfect. They’re pure unadulterated lunacy. Why do they play beach volleyball in Top Gun? Why is a wolf good at basketball?… I’m talking about Teen Wolf. Why is Ren McCormack (Kevin Bacon’s name in Footloose… I don’t know how much hand-holding I need to do with these references) amazing at gymnastics and karate?

I don’t know, but why question it? It makes the movie better. Who knows what will happen next? Either way, the remake will blow. The movie is nuts. The town collapses in on itself at the mere thought that some new highschool kid wants to dance! They throw bricks through his window, there are book burnings, he has to release all of his anger by running around a lumber yard doing flips, guys are hitting women, Sarah Jessica Parker with a ponytail, Bible references, Slaughterhouse Five is referenced. They can’t remake that.

AnnaLynne McCord wants you to want it. She’s hot in that “this is the hottest prostitute ever” way. She kind of has a Farrah Fawcett look as well. I mean she looks hot and sexy and if she gets famous enough will fall into the wildest tail spin drug problem known to man. She appears to have a plastic exoskeleton as well, which is neato. Maybe that’s just me. Also this picture doesn’t do her any justice. It really doesn’t show off her amazing…

Sluttiness.

I’m not complaining, but I think you forgot to wear the bottom half of that dress. Zing! Burn sauce all over your almost visible vag… Eh, you might want to keep the burn sauce away from where ever. It’s “sauce” that “burns”. Might just want to keep that bottled up in the pantry.

Olivia Wilde remembered the bottom half, but forgot the back of her dress. It’s a nice back though. It starts and ends where it should. It is completely covered in the appropriate amount of skin. She kind of wants it I guess, eh not really. She is trying to play cute too much. She looks like she is trying to be innocent of the fact that she has no back to her dress. Whoops. Silly me. She’s hot though. I keep saying that about these people, but like I said there is no limit. I like Olivia Wilde. She’s opted to kiss other girls for America’s entertainment on at least two television shows that I know of. Possible “Congressional Medal of Freedom” in her future? Only if I was President. Damn you, Barry Obama.

This picture is bullshit. Chris O’Donnell is not that funny. No way is he that funny. He’s a good looking man and he is rather young looking for 39, but there is no fucking way he is funny. Look at Julia. She is laughing it up. Bullshit. She’s laughing up his boyish good looks. Fuck that. Keep on laughing Julia. Just keep laughing away. Laugh your way right into bed with ole’ Robin. Just inflate his already huge ego. Just laugh your way into a cheap hour motel. Keep laughing. Ugh you disgust me.

You know who is hilarious? All the chicks on Friday Night Lights. They are all so fucking hilarious. Yeah, that doesn’t work in reverse, does it? None of them are going home with you if you think they’re funny. None of them are funny probably. Who cares? I can make myself laugh.

I love it. Jason Schwartzman wants it. And his wife knows it. Yes! The reverse! This is straight from my brain-piece, but I think Jason Schwartzman can get all the ass. Or I mean love. He can get all the dirty condomless love he wants. He is hetero so he’ll probably want just the ladies, but I definitely think dudes want him too. Nevertheless, I’m venturing off topic. Unless you only want a muscle-y athlete guy, I feel like in real life Jason Schwartzman can talk just about any woman into bed or get her drunk enough to make that decision. Maybe that’s just me, but I think he could do it. I have faith in him.

Jason Schwartzman wants it. His wife knows he wants it and she’s the one getting it from him. Hell yeah! …….. I don’t know who his wife is. She seems to be a pretty smart lady to have gotten the Schwartzman. On the website it had as a caption: Jason Schwartzman and wife. If that vagueness was good enough for Life Magazine it is good enough for me.

That’s like a punch to the face. Mila Kunis’ hotness cold-cocked me. It isn’t as dramatic with the scrolling down the page action you all have, but clicking next and not knowing that was behind door number 10 was like knuckles right between the eyes. Look at those damn eyes. Wow. She’s like a comic book character or an anime character or a Japanese comic book character referred to as a manga character. Incredible. She is hot. And she wants it, but do you notice something? She’s holding back a smile.

Mila definitely wants it, but she is about to laugh and break the whole illusion. No doubt about her wanting it though. Mila’s wanting it is different from Kristen Stewart’s wanting it. It is a whole different beast of wanting it. Kristen’s want is like a laser beam to your cerebellum. It is powerful and focused and concentrated. It can cause injuries. This want is more effervescent and light and playful. Mila will smile and then we’ll smile, she’ll laugh and then we’ll laugh. Oh what a jolly time this is smiling and laughing and this general amicable wanting it. I feel like smelling flowers and eating cotton candy and Mila is so hot and she wants it so bad that soon as she leaves I’ll google up those pictures of her and Elisha Cuthbert and I’ll tear through a gallon of skin lotion.   

There isn’t enough gambling on this website. I’ll fix that:

– Over/under – how long after this picture was taken did Gary Shandling “expose” himself to Kathy Griffin? The line is 30 seconds and I’m taking the under.

– Over/under – how many times Gary Shandling has “exposed” himself to Kathy Griffin since they first met? The line is 38.5. This is a tough one. Odds-makers are really good at their jobs and I feel like they know something I don’t by throwing in that “.5”. Did Gary just show her his balls once? Does that count as “.5”? I don’t know. I don’t gamble much so when I do I gamble a lot, so I’m going with the over. I’m saying, whether she wanted it or not, Gary Shandling on at least 39 occasions has let the barn doors open on purpose for Kathy Griffin.

– Over/under – what percentage of Gary Shandling’s stomach is filled with scotch at that moment? The line is an aggressive 75%. I think the immediate reaction is “over”. He is definitely hammered and sweating the scotch out through his pores at this point. But! He is Jewish. There’s the kicker. Jews do not pass up an opportunity for free food snacking. It is an Emmy party so I’m guessing there is a nice spread of cheeses, crackers, salads, it is LA so there will be sushi and so on. What about shrimp? Jews can’t pass up cocktail shrimp. They have to eat the shrimp and comment on the size of them. That’s not jumbo! That’s what she said. So I’ll take the under on 75%. He’s probably drifting around 62%.

Lightning round…

He wants it.

She wants it.

I want it from her.

I want it from her.

He only wants it from dudes.

She waaaaannnntttttsssss IT!
 

And I’m spent.