"Where's the Schnapps?"

One reason that our recent Michigan trip was so long was because I was a groomsman in a wedding for 2 of my closest high school friends.  They started dating sporadically the summer after high school (I like to think I had a big part in them getting together), and now they're married!!  It was a fun wedding to return home for, and I thought I'd detail some of the more interesting points of the whole proceedings.

Angela Gerber Photography

It started 2 nights before the wedding, when I went with the groom and his family to pick up our tuxes.  At one point, the fine chap whose store we were renting tuxes from offered us beers while we were trying on the rentals.  The groom and I laughed it off, yelling outside that people should drink up.  It tuns out that the guy was politely standing outside of the dressing rooms speaking only to us, and nobody heard him offer beers.  So, we kind of unknowingly ignored him, which is way awkward retrospectively.  The groom's father also made some comment about how gay the guy was.  Well, at some point, guy had his hands all up in my slacks trying to fix the fitting, so that image entertained dad very much.

The next night was the rehearsal.  I'm pretty sure it's the smallest, country-est church Annie has ever seen, let alone been in.  The quote of that night was "the organist couldn't be here because he's pulling wheat."  Classic farmtown convo.  The Best Man is the groom's much younger brother, who was hidden from us for most of his childhood.  He really likes me, as the person that made it out of Monroe and all the way to L.A. He said he was freaking out about his speech, so I told him to send it to me, and I'd give him some feedback.

And the day of the wedding started quite usually.  We all met at the bride's grandfather's, since we'd be driving around in his classic cars to get to the ceremony and pictures.  It was in his driveway that a mosquito was caught sucking on my new tattoo.  It was also the first time that I got to go through their shed of classic/antique (mostly Nash) automobiles.  It was pretty cool.  Oh, and one of my best friends who missed the rehearsal and all of the plans due to another wedding showed up already in his tux.  We'll call him G-raffe.  The rest of us had our tuxes at the church, and we were planning on going out to breakfast in comfortable clothes.

So, we all sat at Bob Evans and had breakfast, alongside one of us in a full tux.

On the way to the church, we realized G-raffe had brought a flask, but didn't fill it yet.  So, in a line of classic cars, we had to try and figure a way to get to a liquor store without the rest of the procession following us.  We managed to pull off with only one person following (bride's father, whom we told that G-raffe had to pee really bad), but the place only sold wine and beer.  Not acceptable.  So, instead, we drove to the church, dropped off dad, accidentally missed the driveway, and drove to another nearby party store to fill the flask with rum.  We claimed we were just showing off the car.

Skip ahead 2 hours.  We're all tuxed up.  All of us, this time.  The groom's mother walks in with smelling salts.  She's really worried that the Best Man is going to drop in the middle of the ceremony.  So I stuck one in my inside pocket, in hopes of saving the day if Best Man goes down.  Then we're off taking a ton of photos, like this:

We finished and headed off in a shaded area with picnic tables, behind a big wall blocking us from the parking lot and church.  G-raffe pulls out the flask, swigs, passes it to me, I swig, and then nobody else would even touch it (don't even get me started on the utter lameness of half of these guys).  That was until the groom's dad came rolling around the corner.  "Where's the Schnapps?"  I'm pretty sure he didn't know that we were flasked up, but it was a classic line, well-deserving of some rum.  The bride's dad may or may not have partaken, also.  The groom's dad went on to tell us about how he got pulled over on the way there this morning.  The cop ended up following him all the way to the church to confirm that he wasn't lying, but it's really no surprise.  The groom is always late, and has a plethora of speeding tickets, so I could see it being a little genetic.

The wedding was great, but really hot up in that full tux.  It was so ridiculously hot in Monroe for the first weekend of October, and I was dripping mid-ceremony.  At the end, I poked G-raffe and asked him if I had white stuff around my lips.  It always happens when I get really dehydrated.  He just looked at my lips with 'what the fuck?' face, which meant I did, so I had to vigorously wipe them on my sleeve before walking down the aisle.  I also spent the first 2 minutes of the ceremony trying not to giggle.  Something about uber serious situations does that to me.  I picture the maid of honor letting off a little toot, or the flower girl falling over, and then it's 5 minutes of me trying to keep my shit together.  I also may or may not have grabbed G-raffe's ass a few times.  And 'swiped a credit card'.  ;)

Throughout the pictures afterward, we had to keep returning to my rental car to 'check on the baby'.  I had stolen a cooler from the ringbearer (they stuffed it with is lunch) and had filled it with pre-mixed Jack 'n Cokes.  We shoved G-raffe and the bride's cousin, we'll call her Lately, in the rental, and Annie drove our slowly-getting-intoxicated asses back to the bride's grandfolk's and then on to the reception.  Not before I peed in an ancient outhouse at the grandparent's.  (They have plumbing, but it's there as a shout out to old times.)

We showed up to the wedding in fine shape.  And here's where things got interesting.  Open bar?  Yes please.  We continued to drink.  At no point was I really drunk, or anywhere near black-out like I had been at the last wedding I was in.  (Sorry, B&G!)  The Best Man won the speech battle.  I really thought the maid of honor was going to pull out all the stops (since she's super smart and competitive), but with the help of my speech, he kicked her ass.  #winning

At some point, somebody handed G-raffe a microphone and asked him to say a few words.  He kind of freaked out, thinking it was to the whole audience.  So, he called over Lately and I.  What a trio we were.  I'm pretty sure I detailed some things on that video that should have never been spoken aloud.  (Sorry, B&T!)  Then, on the spot, Nate and I made up a song and sang it, straight outta 'Whose Line is it...'.  I can't wait to see that.  It's gotta be epic.

Then Lately went on to steal the blog-worthy show.  At one point she was retelling an incident between her and an aunt of hers, who asked about G-raffe.  Her response was, "Yeah, I blew him like 10 years ago, but there's nothing there now."  She didn't know, but the bride's mother was standing behind her.  And Lately is far from quiet.  The bride's mother escorted Lately out to the hallway for a little 'picture'.  Lately had another great moment later where she was detailing how the flower girl was all hyped up on sugar and going crazy while we were trying to eat... or something.  The flower girl's mom was within earshot, and dragged the flower girl over to Lately to apologize.  Which was all kinds of awkward.  Lately begged the flower girl's mom (by the way, the bride's new sister-in-law) not to force her daughter to apologize.  That it really was no big deal.  The mom skulked off, but she sat at the main table with pissed off face for a while.  Nice job, Lately.

G-raffe & Lately may or may not be shown here, in the bottom left.  I'm the top right.

Other notable moments from the night were my dancing.  This blog set me up for really high expectations on the dance floor.  I feel like I fulfilled them.  There was one moment where I was in the center of a big circle gettin' jiggy wit it.  And killing it, if I do say so myself.  But when I danced my way to the edge of the circle, in came a green man.  Straight out of 'It's Always Sunny...', totally stealing my thunder.  It was entertaining, but scorned I remain.  There was also a fun moment in the photo booth with G-raffe where I was pantsless in a half-assed attempt at reenacting the creepy, tucked, mirror scene from Silence of the Lambs.

I guess there is one other quote that's worth mentioning.  An old female rival (both voted Smartest in 8th grade), whom we'll call Moo Mist, made this comment about the Best Man, who as I've mentioned we were hidden from for so many years.  "I mean, him and the groom look nothing like each other.  I'd fuck Best Man.  I mean, not that the groom is ugly..."  Paraphrased, but pretty spot on.

And I think that's about all I'm allowed to publish about it online.  Anyone seen that video yet?

Congrats, again, B&T!
~RoB

Mosquitoes

A few weeks ago, what must be the fattest mosquito in Northern California tormented me throughout the night. I could hear him buzzing around.  And he bit me.  I covered myself up to my chin (fat people can't cover their faces with blankets cuz they'll die of overheating).  Yet, it still wouldn't leave me alone.  I feel like I was up for hours, shaking the blankets near my face so that it would leave me alone.  So, I got up and stomped out of the room to go sleep in the drafty living room.  It woke Annie up, to which she just looked at me.  I responded to her odd look with, "fucking mosquito won't leave me alone!"  And I went and slept on our couch.

The next morning, Annie asked me what happened.  It turns out that my actions didn't seem as put together as I though they were.

I saw:  a frustrated ~RoB making a logical decision to move to a portion of the house where the breeze would keep the torturous mosquito away from me.

Annie saw:  a sleep-drunkened, senseless boy stammering off into the hallway mumbling something about mosquitoes?

She thought I dreamt the whole thing.  The mosquito didn't bother her at all.  They never do.  They're always more interested in the sweet nectar that is my blood.  They annoyed the hell out of me everywhere in Michigan. One even went so far as to suck on my fresh tattoo.  Little fuckers.

These weren't the only notable mosquito mishaps in recent memory.  One actually embarrassed Annie.

We're at the Michigan Men's Soccer game at their fancy, new stadium in south Ann Arbor.  We snuck in with ancient MCards, and we sat adjacent to the student section.  Within a few minutes, Annie's jaw dropped as Stu Douglass and Tim Hardaway, Jr and some other stars from the Michigan Men's Basketball team showed up and sat a section over from us.  We were trying to enjoy the game when a mosquito decided he wanted to play 'tough guy' and start annoying the hell out of me.  So I kept trying to kill it.

I saw:  an annoyed ~RoB slapping at an evil mosquito in an attempt to kill it before he bites me, makes me itchy, and forces me to scratch myself until I'm bleeding.

Annie saw:  a mentally underdeveloped boy celebrating his trip to the soccer match through slow, sporadic applause.

Actually, who knows what Annie saw.  It's possible she understood.  However, she could also see that the MBB team was sitting right beside us.  She grabbed my upper, right arm, looked into my eyes, and in all seriousness said, "Stop.  You look special."  It's very possible that, at that moment, I could have looked really special.  It made me laugh.  Hard.

So, yeah.  Mosquitoes can go to hell.

Apparently, it's bug week here at ~RoB-ing the Line,
~RoB

Awkward or Special?

You know those people.  Sometimes they're tall, and when they walk their shoulders have to jut forward to keep balance.  Like their shoulders are rotating on an entirely different body than their waists.  Or that they're pushing their shoulders through some sort of thick jelly, while they're waists are just trotting along.  There are also those average sized people that aren't ridiculously fat, but aren't particularly skinny either.  And there are those that just look lost... all the time.

I guess it would be more appropriate to say 'Awkward or Special or Foreign'.  Cuz when I'm interacting with somebody that doesn't speak great English, the first decision I have to make is rather they are foreign or special.

Anyway.

I play volleyball every Tuesday with the 'good people' at my sports club.  Apparently, Thursdays are for people wanting to play less pretty, back yard barbecue volleyball.  Every once in a while, we get someone who mistakenly shows up to play with the big dogs.  They usually pick up on the cues that they're just not as good as us, and they hop out after a game or two.

Then Tuesday happened.  This massive guy (tall more than wide) was hovering around the edge of the court for most of our first game.  We usually let people come and go in the middle of the game, but people also just like to watch us, so we don't really ask people to join.  They can if they want to.  He hopped in at the beginning of the 2nd game.

In just a few short minutes, it goes all daddy-hit-mommy silent and we are all giving each other the 'what the fuck can we do' face behind his back.  He's slow.  He didn't understand the concept of a setter position.  One time he took a swing, missed it, and the ball hit him in the head.  We've got real eastern Europeans here trying to draw blood, and there's just no room for somebody who doesn't help at all.

But nobody said anything.  And nobody confronted him.  I pray that we were all thinking the same thing.  We weren't sure if he was special or not.  At least that speaks to the kindness of strangers, that they'd be happy to let somebody ruin their extremely competitive game just to give somebody a chance to feel connected and to be a part of something.  But then I wonder, what if he wasn't special?  Is that even worse?

Not really related at all, just hilarious.

Watch me try to shoot a basketball, and you could write this whole post about me,
~RoB

The Wave

I spent almost all of Labor Day weekend in Omaha, NE for a wedding.  It was great fun.  My first time in Omaha.  I'll dive into the drinking and facebook statuses and food and dancing and fanciness in another post.  However, one of those wonderfully awkward moments happened at the airport on the way home.

On the last day that Annie and I were in Omaha, we were eating lunch with the bride and groom and the groom's brother and girlfriend, and some other peeps.  The groom's brother and I realized that we were taking the same shuttle from the hotel to the airport.  Ha.  That's funny.  We're like the same people.  (Except they were heading back home to Brooklyn, and we were flying to San Francisco.)

But then we asked what flight they were taking, and we pieced together that we were actually taking the exact same flight out of Omaha.  We had a layover in Chicago (yeah, look at a map, Southwest), and they had the same one.  We also learned that the groom's father was going to be on the flight with us.  Look how cute we are!

So, we all get to the airport.  Annie and I apparently run through the airport, because we were through security and at our gate in a few minutes.  (By the way, Omaha is the emptiest airport I've ever seen in my life.  It was almost creepy.  The TSA agents were lonely and wanted to be our friends.)  We sat down at our gate, and we ran into the groom's father within a few minutes.  We wondered how the groom's brother and sister had gotten so far behind us, which led Annie and I to realize just how quickly we move through airports these days.

There was also one last kicker we discovered.  For those that have never flown Southwest, it has open seating, and you just walk on in the order that you checked in.  For the flight to Chicago, the order we were in line was:
A40 - Groom's Dad
A41 - ~RoB
A42 - Annie
A43 - Groom's Brother
A44 - Groom's Brother's Girlfriend.
One big happy family.  Though it is half true to say that it all happened by chance, we were on the same schedule forcing us to check in after the wedding reception, so it's not too surprising.  Yet, why is it so difficult to make this happen when you actually try?

Anyway, I took off to the bathroom and to fill up my TSA-emptied water bottle.  Upon coming out and walking in front of my departure gate, I looked toward the hallway leading from security.  I saw the groom's brother finally coming through and he waved.  That's fun.  I waved back.  Then I turned to continue my way to my seat, and I realized the groom's dad was behind me.  I hadn't just been waved at.  Yet, there was no mistake in my 'standing in an empty airport terminal waving wildly at, what turns out to be, nobody' wave.  Awesome.  Why am I so awkward?

I mean, I totally understand.  I had just met the groom's father this weekend and I absolutely loved him.  He was kind and smart and nice and always smiling.  I'd enthusiastically wave at him on sight if he was my dad.  Especially if we didn't see each other often and we got to spend most of the rest of the day together.  Me on the other hand, I'd only wave at me if I had to.  (Most people have to, when I awkwardly wave at them across BART cars and public venues, lest they look foolish.  By most people I mean Annie.  I usually wave like a toddler, too.)

Not exactly related, but the same feeling.

Suddenly we all got our hands up...
~RoB

Awkward Palm Tree

I can't stand awkward moments in TV or movies.  Which is kind of funny, because I take pleasure in making people feel awkward in real life.

I also like to exaggerate real-life awkward situations and try to make them more awkward by highlighting them and throwing up the Awkward Palm Tree.  I was surprised to find out that one of my Michigan friends just learned about the Awkward Turtle.  That's so yesterday.  All the west coast kids throw up the Awkward Palm Tree:

[I think the symbol originates from In-N-Out.]  (Yes, you can see my purple nipples through my undershirt.)

See.  Doesn't that face and those arms just make things feel awkward, even though nothing has happened yet?

I can't stand awkward moments on TV.  I primarily gave up The Office because it started to suck, but feeling pain when people are awkward was a little part of it.  If I'm laying in bed watching some cheesy teen movie or show where the nerdy guy is about to ask the cute girl out, I'm probably covering my face.  I wanted to walk out of Bridesmaids during the engagement party scene, even though it was funny.  When people start breaking down on TV (Gaga and Marko last night on SYTYCD), I'll usually find some reason to leave the room.  I was very excited to find out that my college roommate is the exact same way.  Maybe it is us awkward guys that are so sensitive to it.

Now that you know, learn how to protect yourself.  Start practicing the awkward palm tree.
~RoB