A Young, Single Guy's View of Wedding Receptions

Looking to score free food whenever I can, I recently accepted an invitation to attend a wedding reception of a close friend.  One might wonder, “If he’s a close friend why did it take free food to get you to go?”  Let me explain.

I hate almost everything about wedding receptions.  “Almost” here is used because I like the free food.  Here are a couple of things I don’t like about receptions.

#1 Dancing

The success of dancing at a reception is solely based off of the amount of people who participate. Since 99% of people who attend a reception attend out of sheer obligation almost nobody ever wants to dance.

Knowing that nobody likes to dance at receptions the D.J. at this one guilt tripped everybody into doing the chicken dance by saying if we didn’t we would ruin the couple’s entire wedding day.  As much as I want the couple’s wedding to be a happy one I firmly believe that the chicken dance is just not something adults should do in public.  Stumble out of a bar? Yes.  Threaten a referee at your daughter’s 7^th grade basketball game? Sure.  Vote for Rick Santorum?  Why not?  But the chicken dance?  Sorry, I’m a grown man. 

Unknowing how to escape the inevitable I frantically searched the room for another alternative.  I had hit the dessert table four times already; another trip would just prove I was stalling.  I had to think fast.

I pulled my iPod touch out of my pocket and started to pretend like I was filming everybody else.  The lack of a recording light on Apple products made it the perfect disguise.  While I was pretending to record an older gentleman walked up to me and said “This is great! Can I get a copy of this?”  A copy?  It’s digital.  But not wanting to blow my cover I had to play along. “Sure thing!”  I said with a smile as I gave thumbs up.

#2 Traditions 

I’ve never been able to find enthusiasm for wedding reception traditions.  Being a single guy in my early 20’s at every reception I go to I have to participate in the event where the bride throws her garter (or whatever you call that supposedly sexy thing women sometimes wear around their thigh) and whomever the gentlemen who catches it is the next to get married (I think).  For obvious reasons my lack of enthusiasm for this tradition is shared among my peers.  When the bride threw the garter we all ran like combat soldiers fleeing from an incoming barrage of hand grenades.  One guy jumped under a table, another ran out to his car, and I ran back to the dessert table.

I also hate the cutting of the cake.  Why is that a spectacle?  Why?  Under what other scenario would anybody give a crap about somebody cutting a cake?  “But Isaac it’s so cute to watch the couple feed each other the cake.  Oh look!  They got in a flirty little cake fight and ended up shoving it in each other’s faces!  Isn’t it cute?”  No it’s not.  That happens every single time.  Their cute little cake fight is what’s standing between me and cake, and I hate anything that stands between me and cake.

The bottom line is that wedding receptions are just a girl thing.  After the reception a girlfriend of mine asked me a series of questions involving the reception. 

“What was the bride’s dress like?” 

“Um, white I guess.”

“What were the colors?” 

“Well, the baked potatoes were brown, the brownies were brown.  I guess the colors were brown.”

“What song did the bride dance to with her father?”

“Look, quit asking me all of these questions!  I need to go make a copy of the chicken dance video.”

Volcanoes, Death and Mediocre Professors

As this current semester rolled around I really needed to take another science class to finish off my associates degree.  Science has never been my stronghold.  The only thing I ever understood about science was volcanos and that was just because I made one out of clay every single year.  Because of that I am now an expert on volcanos.  For example I know that to make a volcano erupt God pours the perfect combination of baking soda and vinegar into the hole at the top of the volcano, a hole which exists because God stuck his finger in the top when the earth was still moldable.  When the volcano juice (as it’s known in the science community) spills out of the top of a volcano it usually comes out way faster than anyone expected and gets all over the table and spills on somebody’s pants leaving a sour smelling stain in their greater crotch area.  That person will then spend the rest of the day trying to convince others that they did not pee their pants.

My clay volcanos never failed to get me a good science grade until that fateful day in 10^th grade biology when I tried to turn another volcano in as my final project.  My teacher was one of those obnoxious young teachers that thought his efforts in the classroom were going to inspire us to accomplish great things in life.  He put his heart and soul all semester into trying to help us to appreciate the wonders of living organisms, to realize the beauty of a blood-flow system, to grasp the majesty and magnitude of a cell.  Boy was he disappointed when I turned in a clay volcano for my final project.  I had a friend who took the same class the next year.  He said all they did was watch videos.

Knowing science was going to be a major hurdle I spent four hours on ratemyprofessors.com trying to find the easiest professor I could.  I kept reading reviews that would say things like

“This professor is excellent! He makes you earn your grade but he is worth it!” 

“Best professor ever! I grew so much in his class!  He made us work really hard but I grew a lot!” 

I don’t need any crap like that.  My attitude toward college is “just give me my freakin’ credit and let me get out of here.”  Finally after literally 4 hours of searching I found a review that said

“This professor is boring as snot but it’s an easy A.” 

Perfect!  Sign me up!

I registered for that professor’s class without even knowing what the subject was.  I didn’t care.  Supposedly it was the easiest way out and I was sticking with it.  It did say on my schedule that the abbreviation for the class was GEO so I just assumed it was a geology class.  For the first three class periods the professor kept talking about maps and elevations and climate regions.  I kept thinking “This is geology class, when are we going to get to the rocks?”  I was talking with a friend about it and she suggested that perhaps it was a geography class instead of a geology class.  Intrigued by the possibility I whipped out my syllabus and sure enough Geography 1010 written in bolded lettering right at the top.

I guess if I can’t even figure out what class I am in I should be in the easiest class possible.  I just really hope nobody figures out where that sour smelling stain on my pants came from.

The Utah Jazz are Going All the Way

Every year I write a blog predicting that the Utah Jazz will win the NBA championship and every year I am disappointed.  One might say “Isaac, every single year you predict that the Jazz are going all the way and every year you are wrong.  Why would you put yourself in a position to suffer even more public humiliation?” 

That is a good question.  And I must admit that oftentimes I feel like a naïve and overly trusting person in an abusive relationship.  If the Utah Jazz were my spouse we would have an annual conversation that goes something like this.

Utah Jazz: Isaac I know I’ve been bad to you in the past, but if you give me just one more chance I know things will be different.

Isaac:  But Jazz, you’ve told me the same thing year after year. You said you would put the family first!  You said you would take me and the kids to the championship.  I even believed you last year when you started off the season with a seven game winning streak. But in the end all you did was end up playing the lottery.  How can the kids and I ever trust you again?

Utah Jazz:  Well I’m different now, I’ve changed.  I spent a lot of time over the summer practicing and I got some new young guys that have a lot of promise.  If you’ll just give me one more chance you won’t be disappointed.

Isaac:  Promise?

Utah Jazz: Promise.

 (Utah Jazz and Isaac share a teary-eyed embrace)

But I honestly do believe the Utah Jazz have all the potential in the world but I think in order to succeed in Utah they need to learn a couple of things.

I went and watched the Jazz have their pre-season scrimmage.  Before they started playing they brought the team out on the court and asked each player a question or two.  Judging by the players responses I'm pretty sure none of them took speech class when they were in school.  It was nothing but a bunch of incoherent jive. 

"So Paul Milsap, what are you looking forward to in this season?"

"Ayknow jusa wanna gidutder n dowudado."

“Jeremy Evans, how many alley-oops do you plan on dunking this year?”

“Wessi, whenim upinda ai owlimdone is jus takincur abusiness.”

As each player answered another question the white, working class Utah crowd grew more and more frustrated. 

“Derrick Favors, what part of your game did you work on over the break.”

“Aughsujhghcdssgdagfbgjbaskteball.”

After several of these players had answered I overheard a very Utah looking man say to another “Well golly Hyrum, I cannot understand a word these brethren are saying!”

Perhaps when an NBA player gets drafted or traded to Utah they should put them through some sort of mini-course to teach them how to communicate with the locals.  They could learn phrases such as

“Thanks again for the cheesy potatoes Sister Steed.  They filled me right up!”

And

“I didn’t know I was speeding officer!  Honest to goodness!”

And in winter they’ll need to know

“Hey moron with the California license plate!  It’s freakin’ Utah!  It snows here!  If you can’t handle it then you should’ve stayed the heck in California!”

But anyway, I am just so grateful that the NBA is back and I am glad that the year the Jazz will win the championship is finally here.  What?  Why are looking at me like that?  You just watch they’re going to do it.  Things will be different you’ll see.  They promised.

Culturally Relevant blog about Twilight

In a last ditch effort for this blog to be somewhat culturally relevant I decided to hop on the bandwagon and write a post about Twilight. Now I have never read nor seen any of the Twilight books or movies but I thought to myself “Why not report on something I know nothing about?  Cable news does it every day!”  HEYO!

I never read any of the Harry Potter books either.  And I am glad I never did because every time I was leaving the theater after seeing a new Potter flick I would overhear nothing but a bunch of whiney know-it all’s complaining that the movie wasn’t as good as the book.  I don’t get these people.  If you are going to be disappointed by the movie because it doesn’t live up to the book then you probably shouldn’t read the book!  Movies tickets are expensive nowadays and you don’t want to cheapen the theatrical experience by frittering away your time reading.  At least that’s what my mother taught me.

It seems like the only reason they even write books is to advertise for the movie that’s going to come out about the book.  Take for example, say, The Bible.  I’d bet you anything that had The Bible not been written “The Passion of The Christ” and “The Ten Commandments” would have bombed worse than the 4^th Indiana Jones movie.  (Which coincidentally was not based off of a book.)

I wonder if this formula applies to other aspects of life.  If basing a movie off a book is the key to having a successful movie then maybe basing a job application off of a book would mean getting the job?  Perhaps you could submit your job application as a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book. 

“It was a dark time for Pizza Hut.  Their delivery boy had recently fallen victim to college graduation and was forced by his new wife, against his will, to get ‘real job.’  Pizzas were stacking up around the store by the hundreds because there was nobody to deliver them to the hungry citizens of Gotham City.  What is a Pizza Hut Manager to do in such perilous times?

Hire Isaac Thomas as the new delivery boy (turn to page 53)

Hope and pray for some other form of miracle (turn to page 79)

(page 53)  Isaac Thomas courageously steps into his new position as delivery boy, relieving thousands of Gotham City’s hungriest occupants from suffering the slow and agonizingly painful death of starvation.  Innocent lives are spared and even more important Pizza Hut is saved.  The mayor awards the key to the city to the Pizza Hut Manager for his wise decision of hiring Isaac Thomas.  Pizza Hut is forever indebted to Isaac’s selfless service.

(page 79)  Due to no pizza’s being delivered, innocent lives are lost as the city’s pizza supply continues to go undelivered.  Pizza Hut’s convenient location on Harrison Blvd becomes so full of pizzas that its management and staff are suffocated and burned by the pile-up of cooked pizzas.  The remains of the Pizza Hut are discovered by archaeologists two thousand years later.  Historians liken the findings unto the findings of the destroyed ancient city of Pompeii.  The only remnant of people found is the outline of a store manager trying to protect a small child from being burned by the explosion of melted cheese.”

So yea, that’s my blog about Twilight.

Paradisiacal Lost

According to the online profiles of all of the girls I’ve stalked, girls like a guy who is smart. As a corollary to this ascertainment it became manifest that it was absolutely compulsory for I to demonstrate my high phrenic character to my mulieribus colleagues. But how?

When I first came to college I thought that simply being a student at an institution of higher learning would give off the impression that I was intelligent. But I began to think otherwise my first semester when my roommate Henry tried to cook Ramen noodles in a toaster.

Realizing that simply being in college wasn’t enough, I needed to find another way to pass myself off as an erudite scholar. In order to win the heart of a young lady I decided that I needed to go to the library and for the first time do something other than check my Facebook. I needed to check out a book. Determined to prove I was smart I decided I would only use traditional means to locate my book of choice. I looked up a book up in the catalog and tried using the Dewey Decimal System to find it. I searched for about an hour until I finally came to the conclusion that I had absolutely no idea how to use the Dewey Decimal System. I ended up just Googling “How to use the Dewey Decimal System.”

With the aid of a search engine I finally found the perfect book to impress the ladies. I checked out John Milton’s classic poem “Paradise Lost.” I can’t imagine any girl not wanting to cuddle up with me on a cold fall day and listen to me read some old English poetry in a fake British accent. Now I only needed to find the girl.

There is a certain spot on campus where I’ve noticed girls tend to hang out quite a bit. I figured this would be a perfect place to perch and act like I was reading while I awaited the approach of the girl who would want to discuss literature with a knowledgeable young gent like me. And as luck would have it it wasn’t long at all until a lovely young lady walked up to me and said “What are you doing in the girl’s locker room?” “Oh hello.” I responded. “I was just committing to memory some of my favorite passages from John Milton’s classic poem ‘Paradise Lost.’ I bet your pretty impressed that I’ve read it so many times that I’m now starting to memorize it.” “I’m going to get campus police.” She responded. It was when she said this that I started to get the feeling that she wasn’t going to want to cuddle. Her loss anyway. If she can’t appreciate a well-read guy like me then she doesn’t deserve to hear me read poetry in a British accent. And for her sake I really hope it’s true that it’s better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. (See how I am applying what I read? I snuck that reference right in there!)

Well I guess if trying to pass myself off as a scholar won’t work perhaps I need to try some other means to pick up girls. Perhaps I could start cooking Campbell’s Soup in the dryer. It seemed to work for Henry.