domenica, ottobre 19, 2008


So Magnum is safely married, and I'm safely lathered, rinsed and repeated until all the Northern Ontario Bridesmaid is out of my hair, and feeling quite emotional as we all peel off, not to meet again for another year or so, if God wishes it. It was a lovely wedding, and lovely to come home for it too, and some things about it weren't lovely, but oh well - it worked well as a whole. Part of the reason it was lovely to come home for it was that I could see everybody, and perhaps it's having become a journalist in the interim but I'm just starting to understand that my extended family is so full of secrets and lies and stories - not necessarily in a bad way - but in a very complicated way.

I'm also starting to understand, at least in comparison with my own glorious ethnic heritage, just how boring cakers and cops are, both of which were in loud attendance last night. One fuckwit cracker pig from some podunk town down south got up on the toasting podium - twice - and made cracks about my father being a mafioso, thinking he was being fucking hilarious no doubt and apparently not noticing the sudden pin-drop silence from all the olive-coloured people in the room. He was confused when people pointed out this was a dumbfuck thing to do, explaining some of his best friends were wops who all laughed at his fantastic mafia humour. You know, I hear sometimes small town WASP assholes have some sort of victim complex about how everybody in the world hates their fucking guts, and they're right, everybody does hate their fucking ignorant redneck guts, but all the same I bet they don't have olive types jumping up on the toasting podium at WASP children's weddings cracking jokes about their post-colonial murderousness or about how they all dismember and eat their gay lovers like their representative Jeffrey Dahmer. Jesus. Fucking retards.

And all the country music. Holy fuck. I'd forgotten about country music, to be honest with you, and had never heard it in any great quantities at a family wedding before because it tends to not agree with us olive types. It is so shitty. What the fuck has to be the psychological problem with an asshole to like country music? Okay - 'Jolene' is the best song ever and I could listen to Johnny Cash for days and still want more. But most of it is such cloying crap. I mean, really fucking emetic. It gives me the shits from every rhetorical orifice. Just to temper all the complaining, I will point out that during a long car trip in Belgium a few weeks ago I listened to one of Hank William Jr's albums and really liked it. But holy fuck - I must have heard 'I Loved Her First' seven times in the last two days alone - make me want to sick and it's still stuck in my head.

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