Saturday, April 29, 2006

"Darling, you know you done me wrong"

CHAMPAIGN/URBANA--Hey, baby, what's shaking? I know you're all upset about last night, but I'm here to settle everything down. By the time I'm done talking, your nerves will be tingling, your stomach will be settled and you'll open the damn door and let me in. I'm getting cold out here, sweet thang, and I don't want to have to kick your damnn window in just to use the can.

But none of that matters, baby. Because I'm here to smooth everything over.

See, first of all, I didn't know your friend Jenny was going to come over. And it's not like you couldn't see her hitting all over me, showing me the top of her blouse and offering me sips from her can of Malt Liquor. Oh sure, she tried to play it all smooth and everything, but I could totally see through her facade of friendliness to the raging sex machine she kept chained up in the basement of her psyche. It was all I could do to keep her from jumping on top of me, seriously. The fact that I was looking down her dress was purely incidental.

And then the party. Baby, I didn't invite Roger, Fred and Chris over just to give myself a good time. Seriously, you said you felt like entertaining, and so I called them up to do some entertaining. I honestly didn't know they were going to bring over the clown midget, the circus seal and twelve pounds of melons, but baby, it's not like they're not professionals. They're fully accredited. And you did leave the vegetable oil out on the counter. Clearly that was an open invitation to them, which, obviously, was misconstrued.

Finally, there's the little matter of Gwendolyn. Darling, you know you're my world, and I'd never so much as look at another woman. When you walked in the bedroom last night, what you thought you saw and what was actually happening were two totally different things. See, Gwendolyn thought she had one of those rare tumors that develops on the inside of the thigh, and she was completely terrified about it. Naturally, being the only person in her immediate proximity, I volunteered to check it out for her. I'm no doctor, but I can assure you and her that there's definitely no tumor in her inside thigh. Or the inside of her other thigh. Or the outside of her legs, or northwards along the small of her back or her stomach, or along her shoulderblades. Completely benign territory, as far as I could see. And since you and Gwen are so tight, I'd think you'd be relieved to hear such good news, instead of getting in my face about where my tongue has been and all the lighted candles and all. Baby, I was saving you electricity, and the only thing you can say in return is dripping with recriminations and suspicion? That's cold.

My Love, you and I have a future together. That's why I've planned a night you'll never forget. While you're cooking dinner--and make it that lasagna I like so much, will you?--I'll be out picking up a bottle of wine. Actually, I'll probably have to stop at Gwen's house on the way, since she accidentally left with my wallet. But that will only take thirty, forty minutes tops, after which I'll be back at your place to massage your feet, listen to your pointless stories about work and maybe, you know, sex you up and what not.

Baby, you haven't lived until you've experienced the thrill of kowtowing to me when you know you've been wrong. And you've been wrong, baby. So wrong. Now let me inside and get your ass back in the kitchen. I can hear the pasta sticking to the pan.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Texan Indian Nuptuals:

Spent the weekend more or less bombed. Ajay's wedding was a blast, but I still have no idea what half the memorabila I walked away with the ceremony is for. Normal Indian weddings, I'm told are upwards of four hours long. This one was about an hour and change; after that, a ceremony with three open bars and no lines. I kept looking around for Saint Peter.

The night before, I made my famed toast--not reveling in it quite as much as I did at my brother's wedding, but enough to make a few references to the good old days of high school and Ajay's singleminded pursuit of top grades and good references. "Now there was a guy who never had his priorities straight," I said breezily. "Always work work work, never really taking the time to enjoy being a teenager..."

The room full of doctors, lawyers, bankers and vice presidents nodded sagely, taking in my rumpled suit and bloodshot eyes. Yes, they seemed to indicate, he's absolutely right. Success is overrated.

I blathered on a bit more about what kind of relationship I thought the two of them would have together, working purely on hearsay and a first impression, given the fact that I'd only met the blushing bride some two hours earlier, and then only for about five minutes. I concluded with best wishes, got moderate applause and a bear hug from Ajay. The following morning, I would charge a modest bar bill to his hotel room and congratulate myself on being a good friend.

Before the wedding, though, I hit Dealey Plaza. Always wanted to see the site. I've mapped out my voyage in the image below: