So my friend Bob said to me last week: "I'm best man in a wedding that has a monkey in it and I have to wear a dress."
I cautiously sniffed a few times to see if Bob had any alcohol on his breath. None present; I said: "Fascinating."
Bob went on to explain that the wedding had a Moroccan theme and wouldn't be at all traditional, but I wanted to hear about the monkey.
"He's gonna pass out programs or something," Bob said.
"Who gives a cluck. For all I know he'll get upset and start tearing throats out during the vows. Did I tell you I have a wear a dress?"
"Tell me about the dress," I said.
Bob didn't find out about the dress until he and the groom-to-be went to acquire the attire for the big event. They didn't go to a tuxedo shop, but a store that catered to people with a desire to dress like Moroccans. Or something. The helpful fellow behind the counter, with a big smile, came out of the back room with a long golden gown-like item that made Bob frown.
"I'm not wearing that dress," Bob said.
The clerk grimaced, apparently insulted. The groom-to-be said: "It's not a dress. It's a ceremonial tunic."
"Honkey-tonk. It's a dress."
So Bob tried on the tunic, which included a pair of puffy parachute pants worn underneath, along with a fancy jacket of some sort. In the end Bob resembled a Vulcan diplomat from an old Star Trek episode.
Bob complained that the "ceremonial tunic" isn't loose enough for a lot of movement.
"So you won't be able to dance with any hot chicks?" I said.
"I'll be too embarrassed."
Bob does have one hope though:
"Maybe the monkey will throw feces during the vows."
BETTER LIVING THROUGH TECHNOLOGY
So I'm in line at the post office the other day waiting to mail a small package. Waiting in line at the post office is like sitting on California's Death Row - you'll be there forever and never get to where you're going.
Suddenly, a cell phone rang, and kept ringing. At the head of the line a hunched over 90-year-old gentleman finally pulled the cell phone out of his sweater. It took him a moment to find the right button to push, and then he put the phone to his ear.
He bellowed: "Hello?” Pause. “What?” Pause. “Hello?” Pause. “I can't hear you!"
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.
This story ties in pretty well with a survey you may have noticed that came out over the weekend. Grandma and grandpa get as much use an enjoyment out of the Internet as us young bucks. The survey said the old folks generally like to send pictures of the grand kids back and forth more than anything, but that's not true.
They're looking at porn just like everybody else.
Brian Evankovich lives in California where he has plans to dump this square world and blast off for kicksville at firstname.lastname@example.org.