New York, NY
It's over. Done. Completed. Finished.
The morning after, my legs still sore from dancing the night away, my ears lightly ringing as the sounds of Play That Funky Music faded out of my consciousness, I sat there four pages into the Sunday Times and realized it was over. Wedding season, at least for this year, is done.
The weddings I've attended through the years have multiplied exponentially. This year, was incredibly rough. Not only for the amount of weddings I attended, but for where they were. Scattered around the United States like drunkenly thrown Yahtzee dice, I traveled (literally) from one end of the country to the other. I memorized all the dance moves of the last twenty years. I learned that you always thank the bride's parents. And, most importantly, I learned that you always give expensive gifts.
My feeling on the expensive gifts thing is this... I'm about 10-20 years away from getting married. My friends will, hopefully, continue to increase their salaries year after year. So while they're struggling to make ends meet now, they'll have excess cash in a few years. So when it's my turn to walk down that aisle and their turn to cut a check, they'll remember the beautiful hand-blown glass bowl I had flown in from Venice and add an extra zero to that initial amount. I'm investing in my future.
It's an interesting thing watching most of your friends take that final plunge. Your happy-fun club of single friends slowly dwindles. You convince yourself that they're missing out on the celebration. You get to party the night away while they're at home folding clothes and worrying about mortgages.
But then the looks come. Subtle. Fleeting. But growing in numbers. At first, it was "Oh, Adam will find the right girl." "How could someone not have snatched that boy up yet?" And slowly it becomes, "Are you sure Adam isn't gay?" "He's about three cats away from becoming a cliché." I secretly think my married friends hold parties together and talk about my severe lack of matrimonial bliss; sure that the only way to truly be happy is to find someone to share my life with.
In a few short days, I'll be six months away from 30. My time-line is shrinking. My sperm are beginning to develop small mutations, so even if I convince/mail order someone to marry me, my children will most likely have three eyes and speak in tongues. This does not bode well for future Adam Juniors getting picked on in Middle School.
To all my friends who've tied the knot, congratulations. I hope you are all truly happy. I wish you nothing but the best out of life. Remember that trip I bought for you guys to Tahiti if/when it's my turn to get hitched. In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be cruisin' the bars looking to pick up college chicks.
This is actually Tulagi's namesake. I picked her name out from a song by the Samples, in which they referenced "Tulagi". While Tulagi is an actual island, it's also a former music venue in Boulder, CO where the band used to play.
Gin and Tonic #7 of the 422 I consummed this Summer.
While at the Coors Brewing Factory, I thought it would be fun to lick the walls in a Wonkian fashion. Turns out the factory walls don't taste like snoozberries, but a mixture of hops, sweat, and grease. (For the record, no one on the tour found this amusing.)
I took about ten different photos of this hummingbird and this was the only one that came out.
You can't tell from this picture, but it's pouring rain. Also, I'm in a bad mood.
Extreme Smiles: Part II (It's a long story)
Wedding #6
Wedding season is over!
My last (and ultimately third) trip to Yankee Stadium ... with Jas in tow.
Wedding #2
