So I am going to a wedding this weekend. I hate weddings. It’s not just because I can’t dance and therefore hate dancing, which is ultimately what the whole goddamn thing ends up being about. If it was just dancing, fine. Whatever. Have an open bar and watch how much I don’t care about dancing. However the one thing that never ends and can’t be ignored about all these damn weddings is the unending requirement of stupid formal attire. An F-ing suit.
I hate wearing suits. Suits are for stiffs. Suits are hot. And I’m fat. So the entire concept of wearing a coat on purpose, on top of binding your shirt collar closed with a tie so that there is no chance trapped hot air (caused by dancing) can escape, is absurd and defies reason.
But hey, it’s a wedding, and it is my wife’s friends, not mine, so I can’t say, “No.”
The upside of my friends is they all know I never leave the house and they don’t hold it against me. But my wife keeps making friends with people who expect you to participate in the friendship and stuff. Honestly, it’s exhausting.
Anyway, I have to wear a suit. Which means I have to wear a coat and a tie and stuff. Which I never do otherwise. Except when some of you die or get married. Which got me thinking.
I feel it is time I point out that many of you are being very selfish with all your damn deaths and weddings. Everyone knows suits are expensive, uncomfortable and lame. But weddings always require them. Same goes for funerals. Everyone knows you have to wear one.
Because the only people who read this drivel I write are my friends, I feel like I can be honest with you and just say that, as your friend, while I do understand that occasionally you may feel inclined to do things that require I force my fat ass into a suit, I’d like to ask you to consider—again because we are friends—that you consider NOT dying or getting married. I know that you probably are all up in your head about love or the inevitability of death, but, if we are being honest, you are actually just being selfish.
So how about, just once, think about someone else. Think about me, your friend. I really don’t want to keep buying new shirts and suits. And I have to keep buying them because my wife keeps cooking with bacon and cheese and stuff. So, I keep growing. Which means that, in this sort of infinite expansion—kind of like the universe or something—I can never just have one suit that I can wear forever. Like, I literally always have to go get a new shirt every time one of you decides you want to die or get married. And if not a new shirt or coat, then at very least, I’ll have to go have my strained coat let out again, which I try to make work, but even that doesn’t last.
I’m not dumb. I’m old. I’ve seen the pattern well before today. But no matter how much I tell the guys I buy my suits from, “Hey, I keep getting too fat for these damn things, sell me a huge one and take it in so I can swell into it over time,” they can only do so much to make the pavilion tent wrap around any given set of corpulent years.
So, in the name of friendship and unselfishness, I would like to formally ask all of my friends to please stop dying or getting married all the time. First off, living is more fun than dying; and second off, everyone knows that getting the milk for free is better than marrying a cow. I mean, who wants to marry a cow? Hell, that’s probably why people die anyway: they either married a cow or got called a cow for getting married. Either way, they get pissed and the stress kills them. Your marriages are literally causing your funerals—which would be fine with me if they were at least happening close enough together to spare me having to buy another goddamn piece of formal clothing, but they aren’t. So just stop. All of you. Seriously.