Fall Weddings

Preamble: Last year about this time I wrote a piece on the un-joy that is the fall wedding. That blog must have gone down the wrong tube and ended up at a Thai brothel never to be seen or heard from again, yet you know in the bottom of your heart that its sitting on a throne made of granite somewhere deep in the jungle primeval. Alas, I digress and try through the fog of many an ale to recall exactly what was written…

The slight crisp of autumn air is not yet palpable, but the shorter daylight hours cause a chemical change in your body - You know its nearly college football season. Your summer of porch settin' and Mexican beer drankin' is about to be replaced by long Saturdays in front of the tube with strong ale in hand rooting on your gambling interests. Hope for your team's success springs eternal. You know that there are soon to be 16 glorious Saturdays in front of the big screen… and then it happens, your mail man drops the proverbial bomb on one of your precious autumnal weekends. No, the neighborhood kids haven't put a live grenade in your mailbox, but it might as well be one. This incendiary device comes in the form of an oversized often pink envelope that smells of flowers. The correspondence, usually arriving in late July or early August, is a notification that one of your (soon to be former) friends, or possibly an inconsiderate family member or colleague has decided to celebrate their nuptials on a crisp fall day, with the beauty of changing leaves as a back drop. This is all great, except for the part that involves you. Yes you! Instead of spending $50 on beer and pizza, you'll be spending $100 on a Cuisinart. Instead of donning a hoodie and your boxers and enjoying the day with the company of your flatulence and the drone of crowd noise, you'll be wearing a suit. Yes, a suit and tie. Only one individual should have to wear a tie on Saturdays and his day is done before kickoff!

Spongebob will be watching the game, but I won't!