I am a Baptist. I am fat. I am white. I posess no rythm at all. None. I have 2 dance moves. One is the moneymaker, and the other is the bunny hop. I've recently added the dice roll, but I haven't perfected it yet. It still kinda looks like I'm doing inappropriate things on the dance floor.
So when my little brother told me there was gonna be dancin at his wedding, I was a little concerned. Needless to say, I wasn't worried about makin an ass out of myself, because I do that daily. First of all, I was worried what my mother was gonna do. My mother is not the kind of woman that approves of dancing. Or alcohol. Or fun, really. She gets so mad when I call her a fun hater. But, she kind of is a fun hater. Second of all, I was worried about making an ass out of myself.
Anyhow, I was in the wedding as a groomsman, as were my other 2 brothers. The wedding was in an armory, and it was hot. The AC was on, but it was hot. Mainly because I'm fat, and we were wearing long sleeve shirts (which everyone knows are an enemy of fat people) and everyone was huggin me. By the time the wedding started, I had sweat pooled at the top of my butt crack, and making a waterfall down to my ankles. You needed a visual on that to fully understand my uncomfortableness. Oh. And ties. I despise ties. We also had spotlights shining on us, and that just made it even hotter.
Before and after the wedding we were OUTSIDE taking pictures. In 95 degree heat. They were trying to kill me. It was brutal, but I soldiered it out, knowing that wedding food is always pretty good, and knowing that my brothers wife came through by having cold beer to drink.
I have a thing for shrimp. Shine talked about shrimp nachos the other day, and I've since been dying to try them. I just love shrimp. I spend a good portion of the year waiting for Red Lobster to show the all you can eat shrimp commercial. When I see it, we pack up, and we head out. I eat shrimp for the next 3 weeks. At the wedding they had some shrimp. The cold kind with the cocktail sauce. Shrimp cocktail. That's it. So I had some, then I spent the next 20 minutes bribing my 2 youngest brothers to get more for me for booze. When I finally decided to go get more myself, (my older family had Bogarted the table RIGHT NEXT to the booze (even though none of them drink) and they were givin me grief about how much I was drinking) I walked up to the food table, and as I was walking, one of the brides aunts caught my eye. She held my eye as I made the weave through tables and guests,and then as I got to the table, SHE PULLED THE SHRIMP OFF THE TABLE LOOKING AT ME THE WHOLE TIME. This is the most direct fatty racism I have ever endured. It was brutal. I held my tongue, because I love my brother. But still. I don't like that lady.
Belly full of shrimp, the music starts to pound. They had hired a really kick ass DJ to do his thing. But alas, no one would dance. As previously stated, I have no rythm. But I could see that I was gonna have to start this show. So I grab my brothers and we headed out there. It was brutal. I tried the dice roll a couple times, but quit when I started getting questioning stares. Lame. Turns out, 2 of my 3 brothers are quiet adept at the dancing. Eventually a bunch of people came out, and everyone had a good time. My MOTHER did the "stanky leg." I am still not sure how it's done. But she did it. And I tried. I just cannot dance. Statgirl was there, and she was dancin strong too. My wife danced. That was awesome. Completely amazed me. It took some cohersion, but we got her out there. I did the butt floss move with my tie, which was appropriate because I hate ties. I quit that when my grandmother started pointing at me. I did the Cha Cha slide, or whatever it's called. I did the YMCA, which is really stupid, because I didn't know what to dance when they weren't singing YMCA. I tried (looking like a ra-tard) to do the Soldja Boy. At one point when everyone else was break dancing, I laid on my back and stuck my legs in the air. One of my brothers grabbed my legs and spun me in circles. Which left a huge sweat slicked spot on the floor. I'm lucky no one died. Particularly me.
All in all I had a blast, and it was a lot of fun. I just realized this post is way to long for me to tell the work party story with it, so that will be a later day.
To The Bride and Groom: May your lives be filled with faith, love and happiness.
Love ya bro.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
This, The Day of My Brothers Wedding
I'm a husband, father, son, brother, and friend. I teach English and Literature to the youth of today. I love Jesus and my mother, and I'll gladly introduce you to both. I love photography and writing. Duke basketball keeps me occupied for half the year, and hating Chapel Hill keeps me busy the other half. As you can tell from the title of my blog, I like stories. I'm a big guy with a big voice, trying desperately to be heard by someone before The Lord takes me home. Let's be best friends.