Having a lot of friends is fun.
Until they all start getting married.
And your life becomes a blur of engagement parties, and bridal showers, and bachalorette parties, and weddings.
And you try to remember what your weekends used to be like when every single one didn’t involve the celebration of two peoples’ everlasting love.
Whatever the weekends were like they definitely involved less cake.
Which is the only reason I keep attending all these events.
I enjoy cake.
I’ve developed a system at weddings to ensure that I get more than one piece of cake. What I lack in drinking I make up for in cake consumption. The key is to get up right when they begin handing out cake, go to another table and strike up a conversation. But do not sit down.
The nice cake people will often put a piece of cake in front of every chair at a table, but if you happen to be lingering around, I don’t know, maybe striking up a conversation, then you can say, “May I have a piece of cake?” And the nice cake people could really give a crap who gets cake, so they’ll hand you one.
Then you wrap up your pointless conversation (or don’t. You can always just walk away the second you’ve got the cake. Your work here is done.) and head back to your table, where another beautiful piece of cake awaits your arrival.
Then you have TWO PIECES OF CAKE.
If you are able to identify and befriend the anorexic girls at the wedding, there is a good possibility that you can land THREE PIECES OF CAKE. Scope them out while they go through the buffet line. They’ll get like a spoonful of salad and one piece of broccoli. And saltine crackers. Always saltine crackers.
In addition to cake procurement these various events have also helped me improve my Party Game skills.
Bachalorette parties and Bridal showers always have Party Games. And I always kick a tremendous amount of ass at every one.
I can pin the Macho just right on the Man. I can make a stunning wedding dress out of toilet paper. I can put a condom on a banana with one hand in 5 seconds flat. And I can give some great advice.
Example: “Write down your advice for a happy marriage.” I wrote down, “Stay single.” And, “Hire a cute gardener.” Which seemed like funny answers until I realized that this advice was going to be read out loud to the crowd. A crowd which included people other than people who think I’m funny. Mine was read right before, “Keep Jesus in your heart.”
Hmmm. Yeah, well, how ‘bout Jesus AND the gardener?
Until they all start getting married.
And your life becomes a blur of engagement parties, and bridal showers, and bachalorette parties, and weddings.
And you try to remember what your weekends used to be like when every single one didn’t involve the celebration of two peoples’ everlasting love.
Whatever the weekends were like they definitely involved less cake.
Which is the only reason I keep attending all these events.
I enjoy cake.
I’ve developed a system at weddings to ensure that I get more than one piece of cake. What I lack in drinking I make up for in cake consumption. The key is to get up right when they begin handing out cake, go to another table and strike up a conversation. But do not sit down.
The nice cake people will often put a piece of cake in front of every chair at a table, but if you happen to be lingering around, I don’t know, maybe striking up a conversation, then you can say, “May I have a piece of cake?” And the nice cake people could really give a crap who gets cake, so they’ll hand you one.
Then you wrap up your pointless conversation (or don’t. You can always just walk away the second you’ve got the cake. Your work here is done.) and head back to your table, where another beautiful piece of cake awaits your arrival.
Then you have TWO PIECES OF CAKE.
If you are able to identify and befriend the anorexic girls at the wedding, there is a good possibility that you can land THREE PIECES OF CAKE. Scope them out while they go through the buffet line. They’ll get like a spoonful of salad and one piece of broccoli. And saltine crackers. Always saltine crackers.
In addition to cake procurement these various events have also helped me improve my Party Game skills.
Bachalorette parties and Bridal showers always have Party Games. And I always kick a tremendous amount of ass at every one.
I can pin the Macho just right on the Man. I can make a stunning wedding dress out of toilet paper. I can put a condom on a banana with one hand in 5 seconds flat. And I can give some great advice.
Example: “Write down your advice for a happy marriage.” I wrote down, “Stay single.” And, “Hire a cute gardener.” Which seemed like funny answers until I realized that this advice was going to be read out loud to the crowd. A crowd which included people other than people who think I’m funny. Mine was read right before, “Keep Jesus in your heart.”
Hmmm. Yeah, well, how ‘bout Jesus AND the gardener?
5 comments:
Aaah, if only the cake were one huge Choco-Dile!
Thanks for the cake tips - the last wedding I went to I didn't get to have ANY cake because I left where I was sitting for a while, and when I came back, my cake was mysteriously missing. Were you at the same wedding? Hmmmmmm.......
Your skills floor me. Seriously. You are such an adaptive, intelligent person who has decided to use her special powers for good and not evil. I salute you.
Now if you could only figure out how to smuggle pieces of wedding cake out the back to my waiting hands, it might be worth some extra cash for you!
Ah man, if the cake were a huge chocodile I would have stolen the whole thing and could have been found out in the limo eating it all.
And Dean, I cannot steal the cake for you, I can only teach you how to fend for youself, and then send you on your way. Go child, Go! Eat frosting till you puke!
dawn,
stories of bachalorette parties and NO mention of PETER????
Ahhhh Peter.
How have I never blogged about him before?
Look for it tomorrow.
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