While I have always tried to keep the content on this site upbeat and funny,
assuming, of course, that you find jokes on a 4th grade level humorous, I
have to come out of the woodwork today and deliver some very terrible news.
Well, actually it's great news for me but it's pretty bad for both
the "female" and "gay men who may have found me interesting" demographics of
my readership. You see, this past weekend I got down on one knee and
asked the girl of my dreams if she would marry me. Also, just in case
words weren't enough, I also brought along a ring in the hopes that I
could bribe her if things went sour. I'm pretty sure that she said
yes but every now and then I just kind of tune out her out and imagine what
life would be like if dogs had feathers instead of fur.
I'm sorry, ladies. While I do realize that you're of the patient type and were likely just buying time and waiting for the right opportunity to approach me and sweep me off my feet, you have missed your chance. Maybe. You see, I'm not married quite yet so if you think you have a really worthwhile proposition to offer me, feel free to contact my secretary and schedule an appointment. If worse comes to worse, we can all move to Utah and I will simply marry both of you. But for now, consider me engaged and as off the market as a company with poor financial performance who has been delisted by NASDAQ.
Everyone has an idea of what their own dream proposal scenario would be. I don't really know "everyone" so I have no idea what his/her dream proposal would be. However, I did some research at the library and in-between sessions of feeling guilty for getting turned on while looking at National Geographic - African Tribal Edition, I managed to find out what some other people do when they choose to give away expensive jewelry. Some guys like to stick the ring in food, possibly in hopes that the wife-to-be eats it and chokes because they have an asphyxiation fetish. Another popular idea that some people think is great is to hire a plane to either skywrite "Will you marry me?" or tow a banner along that says something similar. This is a wholly stupid idea because burning jet fuel contributes to global warming and Al Gore says that is a bad thing. It is scientifically impossible to live happily ever after if Al Gore doesn't approve of the method of your union. In the middle east (and some parts of Arkansas), gunpoint is also an acceptable proposal method.
Well, I don't own a gun and am allergic to food, so I was quickly running out of ideas. I talked at length with the homeless person who lives outside my building and in between bouts of yelling obscenities and cursing the Italian automaking industry for helping fund the Vietnam war, he lucidly mentioned that perhaps I wanted to get away for a while. Of course, it's possible that he was simply telling me to get away from HIM but I've had a chronic case of selective hearing since I was six. Either way, I walked away with a great idea: fly out to an island retreat and do the proposal there. Well, it was a great idea until I realized that flying meant burning fuel and incurring the wrath of Al Gore. Thankfully, some helpful people at KMart assured me that helicopters don't use jet fuel but instead rely on a enviro-friendly mixture of tree bark and powdered sugar to make them go vrroom. Besides, going out to an island is a great idea since if she said no, as a contingency, I could simply leave her out there and tell everyone back home that she left me for a busboy named Ronnie, thus garnering support with the "sympathetic but hot supermodel" demographic.
After spending minutes on the phone commanding my servants to make a bunch of calls for reservations and put this idea into motion, we set out Saturday morning for a short two-hour drive to the heliport. Well, it was supposed to be a two hour drive. We managed to hit some of that mysterious Los Angeles traffic which just kind of forms and dissapates for no apparent reason but is there to make you just late enough to miss whatever it was you were on your way to do. We actually neared the helicopter place with some minutes left to spare but found ourselves still a few miles away. I called the clerk and asked if he could delay the take-off for a few minutes. After asking us where we were, he assured us that we could make it on time. Our conversation went something like this:
Clerk: I'll stay on the phone with you and tell you how to get here.
Me: Cool. We're passing the exit that says "Pier F - J."
Clerk: Don't take it.
Me: But my directions say to take that exit...
Clerk: No, don't take any pier exits. Just keep going.
Me: Ok, cool. Ok, I'm crossing over a bridge.
Clerk: You're what?
Me: I'm crossing over a bridge.
Clerk: Uh oh. You don't want to be on that bridge.
Me: I didn't really have a choice. Right after that exit that we passed, the bridge started.
Clerk: Well, you wanted that exit you just passed.
Me: Christ, ok. Well, I am going to make a u-turn and cross back over the bridge.
Clerk: Oh no, you don't want to do that. You'll end up in Anahiem.
Me: But don't I have to cross back over the bridge to get back to where I was?
Clerk: No, it'll take you--
Me: You're an idiot. Good bye.
So, thanks to the wonderful directional stylings of Kid Genuis, Wonder Clerk, we managed to miss our original helicopter flight out to the island. I either had the option of waiting around all day in case someone else cancelled or charter a private flight for just the two of us. The latter is all fine and good (and what we wound up doing) but I expected that since it's a private flight that I am paying for, I would have some kind of say in how things went from here on out. Much to my dismay, depsite paying an exhorbant fee, I was unable to convince the pilot to do backflips or pull a Top Gun and "buzz the tower." Sure, I made it out to the island eventually but I can't help but feel a little jilted. Customer service isn't what it used to be I guess.
The small transportation hurdle aside, everything else was great. The hotel room was fantastic and we wound up having an excellent time for the remainder of our stay. Some notable highlights from the trip include:
- Got to see the Queen Mary from a distance, though I used to live in San Francisco so I've seen a lot of queens who call themselves Mary from a distance.
- Any water that didn't come in a sealed bottle tasted like it had been collected via a rain filtration system and stored in a rusted pail that someone threw up in.
- One bar that we went to had 1800 Tequila on tap! I live in San Diego for christ sakes and we don't have a bar that has tequila on tap.
- Having to explain to an old guy at the bar why anyone in their right mind would need a bottle of champagne, a red bull, and water at the same time. (Hint: celebration, energy, and hydration.)
- Being intimidated by some very large pigeons who wanted to battle me for my continental breakfast. They almost won. Seriously, it wasn't worth fighting over.
- Actually dining at a place called "Eat At Joe's." Other notable options were (seriously) Steve's, Sally's, and Eric's.
- Saying the phrase "when we get back to the mainland" in a sentence and not thinking anything was wrong with that.
Once all the dust had settled, I walked away from the weekend in one piece and engaged, so all the trouble was worth it. For now, though, it's back to the daily grind of making foam fingers that say "#1" on them and harvesting eggs from captured midgets. Supply and demand doesn't give a damn whether you're engaged. I will however allow myself a little congratulatory pat on the back. I deserve it.
|
I'm sorry, ladies. While I do realize that you're of the patient type and were likely just buying time and waiting for the right opportunity to approach me and sweep me off my feet, you have missed your chance. Maybe. You see, I'm not married quite yet so if you think you have a really worthwhile proposition to offer me, feel free to contact my secretary and schedule an appointment. If worse comes to worse, we can all move to Utah and I will simply marry both of you. But for now, consider me engaged and as off the market as a company with poor financial performance who has been delisted by NASDAQ.
Everyone has an idea of what their own dream proposal scenario would be. I don't really know "everyone" so I have no idea what his/her dream proposal would be. However, I did some research at the library and in-between sessions of feeling guilty for getting turned on while looking at National Geographic - African Tribal Edition, I managed to find out what some other people do when they choose to give away expensive jewelry. Some guys like to stick the ring in food, possibly in hopes that the wife-to-be eats it and chokes because they have an asphyxiation fetish. Another popular idea that some people think is great is to hire a plane to either skywrite "Will you marry me?" or tow a banner along that says something similar. This is a wholly stupid idea because burning jet fuel contributes to global warming and Al Gore says that is a bad thing. It is scientifically impossible to live happily ever after if Al Gore doesn't approve of the method of your union. In the middle east (and some parts of Arkansas), gunpoint is also an acceptable proposal method.
Well, I don't own a gun and am allergic to food, so I was quickly running out of ideas. I talked at length with the homeless person who lives outside my building and in between bouts of yelling obscenities and cursing the Italian automaking industry for helping fund the Vietnam war, he lucidly mentioned that perhaps I wanted to get away for a while. Of course, it's possible that he was simply telling me to get away from HIM but I've had a chronic case of selective hearing since I was six. Either way, I walked away with a great idea: fly out to an island retreat and do the proposal there. Well, it was a great idea until I realized that flying meant burning fuel and incurring the wrath of Al Gore. Thankfully, some helpful people at KMart assured me that helicopters don't use jet fuel but instead rely on a enviro-friendly mixture of tree bark and powdered sugar to make them go vrroom. Besides, going out to an island is a great idea since if she said no, as a contingency, I could simply leave her out there and tell everyone back home that she left me for a busboy named Ronnie, thus garnering support with the "sympathetic but hot supermodel" demographic.
|
After spending minutes on the phone commanding my servants to make a bunch of calls for reservations and put this idea into motion, we set out Saturday morning for a short two-hour drive to the heliport. Well, it was supposed to be a two hour drive. We managed to hit some of that mysterious Los Angeles traffic which just kind of forms and dissapates for no apparent reason but is there to make you just late enough to miss whatever it was you were on your way to do. We actually neared the helicopter place with some minutes left to spare but found ourselves still a few miles away. I called the clerk and asked if he could delay the take-off for a few minutes. After asking us where we were, he assured us that we could make it on time. Our conversation went something like this:
Clerk: I'll stay on the phone with you and tell you how to get here.
Me: Cool. We're passing the exit that says "Pier F - J."
Clerk: Don't take it.
Me: But my directions say to take that exit...
Clerk: No, don't take any pier exits. Just keep going.
Me: Ok, cool. Ok, I'm crossing over a bridge.
Clerk: You're what?
Me: I'm crossing over a bridge.
Clerk: Uh oh. You don't want to be on that bridge.
Me: I didn't really have a choice. Right after that exit that we passed, the bridge started.
Clerk: Well, you wanted that exit you just passed.
Me: Christ, ok. Well, I am going to make a u-turn and cross back over the bridge.
Clerk: Oh no, you don't want to do that. You'll end up in Anahiem.
Me: But don't I have to cross back over the bridge to get back to where I was?
Clerk: No, it'll take you--
Me: You're an idiot. Good bye.
So, thanks to the wonderful directional stylings of Kid Genuis, Wonder Clerk, we managed to miss our original helicopter flight out to the island. I either had the option of waiting around all day in case someone else cancelled or charter a private flight for just the two of us. The latter is all fine and good (and what we wound up doing) but I expected that since it's a private flight that I am paying for, I would have some kind of say in how things went from here on out. Much to my dismay, depsite paying an exhorbant fee, I was unable to convince the pilot to do backflips or pull a Top Gun and "buzz the tower." Sure, I made it out to the island eventually but I can't help but feel a little jilted. Customer service isn't what it used to be I guess.
|
The small transportation hurdle aside, everything else was great. The hotel room was fantastic and we wound up having an excellent time for the remainder of our stay. Some notable highlights from the trip include:
- Got to see the Queen Mary from a distance, though I used to live in San Francisco so I've seen a lot of queens who call themselves Mary from a distance.
- Any water that didn't come in a sealed bottle tasted like it had been collected via a rain filtration system and stored in a rusted pail that someone threw up in.
- One bar that we went to had 1800 Tequila on tap! I live in San Diego for christ sakes and we don't have a bar that has tequila on tap.
- Having to explain to an old guy at the bar why anyone in their right mind would need a bottle of champagne, a red bull, and water at the same time. (Hint: celebration, energy, and hydration.)
- Being intimidated by some very large pigeons who wanted to battle me for my continental breakfast. They almost won. Seriously, it wasn't worth fighting over.
- Actually dining at a place called "Eat At Joe's." Other notable options were (seriously) Steve's, Sally's, and Eric's.
- Saying the phrase "when we get back to the mainland" in a sentence and not thinking anything was wrong with that.
Once all the dust had settled, I walked away from the weekend in one piece and engaged, so all the trouble was worth it. For now, though, it's back to the daily grind of making foam fingers that say "#1" on them and harvesting eggs from captured midgets. Supply and demand doesn't give a damn whether you're engaged. I will however allow myself a little congratulatory pat on the back. I deserve it.