5/11/01
Gently Redefining Trouble Spots

Like the eXFL, the A&A household of sin living is about to be cancelled. Of course, that also means that my little pre-wedding rants will be forever put on hold. What will your dear author do without his imaginary audience? Of course, those Midwesterners may be disappointed. But fear not readers! I have a multitude of numerous ideas floating around my noggin.

So this final week before the wedding has kept A & I quite busy. Between our final "pray to the deity of your choice that your legs work right" dance lessons and a last meeting with Rabbi Steve, we haven't been home till after 9 PM every night. The oddest thing that happened was the Dickesesque Miss Havisham-like manicure at my pre-wedding haircut. See my conspiratorial father decided to buy me a MANicure, which I was surprised with when the silver haired manicurist at my barber shop came at me with a finger bath. Now, my often-chewed nails are shiny and filed. However, these little piggies still look like they've been through the sausage pump. Can't take the blue out of this collar or something.

If Janis Joplin’s prophetic (at least in terms of my life) singing, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose…” is true than we better call the UN cause after this weekend we're going to be in the bondage of place settings, silver, crystal, and cheques. In other words, there will be a lot to lose. Of course, Kenny Rogers may be more apropos, as we will have to put off “countin’ our money at the table” till after France. Maybe I should have listened to an earlier lyric in the Gambler, “You gotta know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away, know when to run.” Did I just quote a Kenny Rogers song?

In case you are stuck for a last minute gift, I stumbled upon this little item in a catalog that found it’s way through our mail slot:


If you can point out this man's trouble spots, please let me know. I very well may have trouble spots and not even be aware. What an embarrassment! Oy vey!

Other things I did this week, included helping put the finishing touches on our wedding favors, all 130 of them, printing out, cutting into perfect 3 inch squares, and folding all the little table place card tents, and creating my own medical kit for our invasion of France. I suppose these are the typical pre-wedding activities.

Speaking of our invasion of France, I hear there is some cheap beef available. If you would like some, drop me a note. I will pack ground beef in my socks to avoid the customs inspectors luggage probing. I wonder if those drug sniffing dogs react to smuggled meat?

So, I will be away for the next two weeks. But I promise a big wedding round-up article and some thoughts on the future of my seemingly endless commentary on life. In the meantime, I’ve got to feed all those Quaker oat dancers…

TTFNSYRS.




5/2/01
Talk to me like a Naughty Developmentally Delayed Child.
Since the last update we’ve had a very sad and disappointing event with the loss of A’s grandfather Jack. It was a privilege to have gotten to know him over the last four years and A and I are both very upset that he won’t be with us for the wedding.

In other realms, interesting wedding related goings-on took place. My favorite event was my chat with Coquette, our friendly Euro-Rail representative. As part of our honeymoon, A and I will be utilizing the high speed French TGV (which stands for Too much Goddamned Velocity ) train to travel from Paris to Avignon. The need to speak with Coquette, or any of her comrades, arose from actually receiving the tickets. See, to ride on the TGV, or any of the French trains, three separate pieces of paper are required. Being American, I am not trained in the ways of deliberate bureaucracy and inefficiency. As such, there was much confusion on my part as to how the three pieces of paper, the train, Andrea, myself, and our need to traverse the distance between Paris and Avignon were related. For reference here are the three pieces of paper:

1. The Rail Saver Pass


2. The reservation ticket for the seats on the exact train at the exact time on the exact days we will be riding.


3. A voucher that verifies that we bought the first two in case either or both are lost.


Here is what I learned from Coquette: (As you read this, pretend that you are speaking with Coquette by ending each sentence with the phrase, “you dumb f-cking American pig,” and using a tone that you would take with a developmentally delayed child who has been naughty.)

1. The SaverPass is valid for 6 months from the date of purchase but must be stamped before use at an official Rail France office. Once stamped you may then travel for the odd number of days purchased (you can only purchase days in odd numbers) in the thirty days following the date of the stamp, assuming it was stamped within 30 days of the end of the 6 month period. If the SaverPass is never stamped you may return it for a refund minus 15% service charge. If the SaverPass is stamped but you do not utilize all the days you have purchased you cannot receive a refund, regardless of how many unused days are left.
For example: A and I have a SaverPass that is valid from 3/27/01 to 9/27/01 that will allow us to travel on three one-way train trips within a thirty days of the date we get the SaverPass stamped by a Rail France bureaucrat.

2. The reservation ticket secures you a seat on a specific train leaving on a specific date and time. These are non-refundable and must be used for the correct train. Or you will be required to buy a new one. So there.

3. If either of the first two documents are lost or stolen you must immediately file a police report, purchase a new SaverPass and reservation ticket, and then submit the refund voucher, receipts for new tickets, and the police report to Rail France, and with baited breath, await your refund in 6 to 8 weeks not including time it takes international mail to wander across the Atlantic.

It is amazing to me that any society that accepts such ridiculous rules for train tickets gets anything else done with a modicum of efficiency. But before I pass judgment, I endeavor to do a reverse-de Toqueville, man on the scene analysis of the situation by biking through the boonies of France. Stay tuned for my report.

Also this past week both A and I had our respective Bachelor/Bachelorette parties. A’s was directed by her woman in waiting (and my friend too) Lisa. According to the police report, the evening had the theme of “A Celebration and Appreciation of the Association of Phallic Shaped Object Manufacturers.” This culminated in some real-life prototype modeling at Baltimore’s finest penis-display establishment, Atlantis. My little soirée was the diametric opposite. My merry men took me, via the Gandel Lexis of Love, to the faire community of Atlantic City, NJ. There was no alcohol, no naked woman, and less than $100 of gambling per person. I did, however, get sunburned on the boardwalk. Whoooo am I crazy or what? And though it may have qualified as the most tame, downright comatose, bachelor party of all time, I had an excellent experience of just hanging out with my friends. Stay tuned for pictures.

And since A and I have been busy with the Jewish funeral thing for the last few days our dancing has suffered. In fact, as our wedding title promises we will be more heavily depending on the Quaker Oat Dancers and the Captain Crunch Crew. Were I a soon-to-be guest at the affair, I would expect to see an opening number, in lieu of a first dance, entitled “Love and Breakfast foods: an Interpretive Dance” involving 16 gallons of milk, 6 boxes of Peanut Butter Crunch, and some scantily-clad South American men in loin clothes.

It was also brought to my attention this week that the fine, peer-reviewed journal, Weekly World News ran a foretelling article about relationships. Here is the headline:


That's all folks!