Usually, I wouldn't attend such a thing. I loathe weddings. The ceremonies involved are insulting to anyone with any sort of intelligence, like all ceremony is, and the emotionally charged women terrify me. Fucking TERRIFY me.
My invitation wasn't met with excitement, only because I knew I had to compromise my value system to support a friend. Most people wouldn't benefit from such an allowance. But this guy is my friend. I heart him and shit. His girl is super awesome, too.
The idea of me wearing a suit and tie wandering around a stupid church with a feigned smile provided moderate anxiety. I kept thinking, am I really going to be a bitch and do this? The answer: sort of.
The issue with the 21st century is that nobody declares themselves anymore. People shut up, look down, and ride the hegemonic wave of consumer slavery because convenience and safety is just that. We, the civilized, are a generation of coddle shit squishes.
"You know, like, hey, ipods and Michael Bay movies aren't that bad." Yeah, they are--fuck you.
I stand for shit.
The only way I could feel good about attending the wedding was by protesting the idea of marriage, to some degree. Not in a dickhead way, though. Like in an affable scumbag sort of way.
My initial idea of protest was to sport a 12-inch black rubber dick with a chin strap as a 'top hat', a cock ring 'monocle' and a massive double-headed dildo 'staff'. Basically, the valley version of Mr. Peanut.
The outfit seemed cumbersome. I didn't do it.
The next idea I had was to bring an ounce of cocaine and 5 naked strippers to the wedding. Maybe do some body shots off white children or something.
Then I remembered how completely annoying strippers are. They usually have cold skin despite their sweet tans, too. Freaks me out a little. Like their soul is so eroded body heat doesn't work.
Plus, who the fuck wants to share cocaine?
After much deliberation, I decided to wear a costume. Dragons are special to me. They symbolize individual strength, a force against all things. Looking cool was a determining factor, too.
So yeah, I wore a dragon costume to a wedding.
People liked the outfit. The bride and groom genuinely seemed to like it. The kids liked it. Of course, haters gonna hate. So I gave the sour pussies a bright, green fuck you to really hate on. They devoured that shit.
The wedding was nice. It wasn't a normal ceremony. And didn't even take place at a church. The bullshit part was minimal. Approximately 15 minutes. Maybe it was longer. I got there an hour late. Everything else was pure party.
I like pure party.
As the night went on and alcohol at the bar waned, more and more people had the courage to ask me exactly why I was dressed in costume. It was the best part of the night. I told 15 or so people exactly why I was a misogamist, why I believed in love, why I didn't waffle on my values, and why the protest.
Some people got 'it', other people had horrified facial expressions and avoided me the rest of the night, others just wanted to pet my tail.
Fun night.
Gena looked very fuckable and took some pictures--like she always does--as a document of my life. Here's a picture of the bride and me making a heart shape where the groom's stomach is supposed to be:
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