June 2nd, 2004


Open Bar.

Went to a friend's wedding in San Diego this past weekend. Will write more about it later, perhaps tomorrow. I'm in a terse mood right now, and thank God there are pictures to post so that I don't have to write much.

Rather than show pictures from the entire wedding, let me just get to the best part: The open bar.


Here's me with several of the male guests looking content. Content, as we all know, is the boring version of happy brought about by a lack of excitement, gunplay or in this case, vodka.


That's me instructing the bartender to make each glass a double shot. My friends on the right look apprehensive, perhaps even a little scared. Long ago they used to look forward to such things, but married life has made them delicate and fragrant like lotus blossoms.


As the bartender continues to fill each glass, the camera catches me rubbing my hands in an evil mastermind/Mr. Burns kind of way. You can practically hear me saying Excellent...


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Matrimonial Day Weekend.


Sometimes a weekend will acquire a theme of some sort. A series of events will occur during those days, and they’ll all have something in common: Breakups, Dysentery, Bar Fights With Pastry Chefs etc. For this past Memorial Day weekend, the theme was Marriage.

My buddy T was in town visiting from Hong Kong. The bastard is hurtling toward matrimony like a space shuttle pilot on a suicide mission. We met up at this quaint but cool club in Hollywood called Nacional, where an Asian party was taking place. Compared to the days when I was a spry young lad, I rarely hit a club or party anymore on account of my being unsingle, unhip, and unable to have a good time in crowded conditions. It's just a matter of time before I spend my nights quietly whittling wood in a rocking chair while listening to the soothing sounds of the banjo.

Finally T showed up in his glasses and khaki pants; it’s hard to believe that not too long ago this man was throwing huge parties in Taipei, Boston, NYC and LA. Now the boy spends his weekends watching Korean drama videos and reading Oprah Book Club selections. Whereas I'm turning into an old man, T is turning into an old woman.

Lazily chugging our vodkas while exposed female body parts were jiggling to bass downstairs, T and I spent the bulk of the evening discussing the bachelor party and things I wasn’t allowed to say in my wedding reception speech.

“Dude, remember the time we so-and-soed with so-and-so and so-and-so and then so-and-so did a so-and-so with a so-and-so inside the so-and-so?”

“Yeah that was hilarious.”

“Don’t bring that up in your wedding speech.”

The next time we see each other, there’s a good chance he’ll be in that short purgatory called Engaged World; but that night I felt he was pretty much there already. I’m a bit surprised it didn’t sadden me as much as I thought it would. I guess it’s just about that time.

The girlfriend and I headed down to San Diego for our friend’s wedding. Like T, the bride also used to throw and promote parties. I'll never forget the night she showed up to a house party wearing an overcoat and ripped it open. But instead of flashing us, she reached into the inside pockets and yanked out two bottles of Jagermeister like the gunslinging Chow Yun Fat of pre-"Anna and the King" days.

Then almost overnight she relinquished her LA Party Queen crown and headed off to business school. Afterward she moved to New York, where instead of resuming her Party Queen duties, she leads a quiet life as a marketing manager for hair-coloring products.

The wedding was at the Four Seasons Aviara, which is more like a small cliffside city than a resort. The cavernous men’s room makes you feel like you're pissing inside the Taj Mahal.

As expected, it was a beautiful ceremony with just one complaint: Summer outdoor weddings are one of the worst places to be stuck wearing a suit and tie. You might as well tie the knot in a forest fire. As soon as the ceremony begins, you aren’t thinking Oh I can’t believe I’m witnessing such a special moment in my friend’s life. You’re thinking I can feel the sweat trickling down my ass crevice.

As I put my arm around the ex-Party Queen's shoulders, I told her that she was one of the sweetest girls I've ever known, and that she absolutely deserved this. Strange thing is I meant that in a good way - and if you know how I feel about marriage you'd think it was strange too.

After checking out of the hotel, we drove down a few miles to visit our married friends and see their new baby for the first time. They were one of our first friends to get married, and for a long time they led a blissful existence as the ultimate DINK (Dual Income No Kids) couple. The spacious house. The luxury cars. The trips to exotic places like South Africa and Tahiti. The robot hookers.

But now they were the proud parents of a tiny pink girl, which I believe makes them a DIOK (Dual Income One Kid), which also happens to be the Klingon word for wristwatch.

As mentioned earlier, it’s just about that time for them. You get engaged, you get married, you get kids, and so forth. Life is predictable that way, and sometimes I think that's what my problem is - that more than the unexpected, it's predictability that scares me.

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