who dat? contest:

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"i know!"

yesterday's results:

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brian wilson

first correct answer:

joe m. greizis

marriage, stud, and sexy caterers

So this weekend in Berkeley my oldest friend Derek was married to his pregnant girlfriend Rebecca. Yes sir: a real live shotgun wedding! Yee-haw! I didn’t know they even made them anymore.

I took off work Friday and flew up around noon, ran right out to buy a wedding gift. I’d planned on getting a nice dart board but M. strongly suggested that a dart board, besides being a less than romantic or classy gift, would not be a particularly good idea in a house with a newborn and 4 cats. So I agonized and browsed and finally bought a mirror. It’s a nice mirror and one Derek can look at and wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into. That night we had the wedding rehearsal (I was one of four groomsmen), and in typical Berkeley style, the wedding was in the middle of the woods in a tiny amphitheater. We called it the Blair Witch Wedding. Derek wore shorts and a Cal Ripken Jr. t-shirt and flip-flops and stood with his pregnant and showing wife and replied "Yup" to the vows. The four of us stood across from the bridesmaids and tried not to laugh at Derek and kept remarking how creepy the preacher was and whispered that Derek’s 17 year-old sister is actually pretty hot and argued whether or not one of the other bridesmaids was wearing underwear. That was rehearsal. Afterwards we sat in Derek’s parents’ backyard (around the corner from my mom’s house) and drank beer and ate Zachary’s pizza and made fun of the pink bandana his mom made Woody the fearful Airedale Terrier wear.

We then took Derek out to the Mallard Club for drinks and then Greg and Gio dragged us to the San Pablo Card Club in Richmond. This is a "casino" with many tables of poker games of which the house takes a cut. Derek, Greg, and I were eventually seated at the same table. I was next to an old smelly Korean man and an old smelly black man. The black man was incredibly surly and mumbled to himself as he lost hand after hand. The Korean man was especially giddy and he laughed and mumbled as he lost hand after hand. Someone was winning but it sure wasn’t me. An hour and a half later, Jeff, Derek, and I left Greg and Gio there and drove home:

JEFF: That sucked.

DEREK: That really sucked.

STEE: Man. I lost 70 bucks.

JEFF: Me too.

DEREK: I lost 80.


JEFF: God that sucked.

DEREK: Yeah. Fuck that place.

STEE: Wasn’t even fun. I hate Greg and Gio.

JEFF: Fucking drag us there.

DEREK: Yeah.


STEE: Man that sucked.

JEFF: Damn!


STEE: Well… alright. See you at your wedding Derek.

Jeff picked me up the next day and we both remarked how snazzy we looked in suits. I’m pretty sure this was only the 3rd time I’ve worn the suit. The first was Shana’s wedding 6 years ago and the second was my Dad’s funeral 4 years ago. We stopped and bought a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps and arrived to an empty wedding area and a surly waiting harpist. "Where do I set up?" "I don’t know." "Well goddammit I have to warm up carry my harp I’m not gonna sit next to the garbage can..." Jeff and I just started laughing and walked back into the woods to crack the bottle. People started arriving and the best man helped us with the bottle. His name is Fat Rich and he’s a fisherman and he has a mullet haircut. Derek sat in the seats chatting with people until I dragged him away. "You’re not supposed to be out there." "Oh." He pulled from the bottle and I yelled at 2 hikers to go away. The actual ceremony was very nice. Too much God stuff during which I tuned out. I tried very hard not to laugh as Derek was slightly shaking and the way he said "I will" with the smile on his face. Then when the preacher said, "…and someday when they decide to have children" and I lost it because I realized her belly was supposed to be just extra weight, not a child, and the irony of it all. They kissed and we all chatted in the woods as people left and then we took pictures. I refused to be posed with my hands covering my balls in that supposedly formal way that just looks dirty to me so the photographer snapped a few and let the boys leave.

The reception was at the Claremont hotel and everyone was in a fine mood. My mom was there and had a very good time. I knew one of the caterers – this very pretty girl named Cynthia who was a year ahead of me in high school – and I talked to her a lot. She told about our friend who had my heart for most of high school and then was admitted to Juilliard for acting at age 18 and was written about in the New York Times. She’s now a major drug addict, doesn’t work, has serious back problems, and "might" have MS. Very depressing news. Greg and I snuck off for smokes and once again Ben got a phone number and he won’t do anything about it. After dinner I was asked to give a toast so I told a story about Derek turning green and running from the room when our 4th grade teacher handed out drawings of the female reproductive system. I was worried that it was too much but everyone laughed and I was reminded what an attention hog I am to be an actor because that mass laughter just felt that good. Devin found his new truck wouldn’t start and he kicked dents in the side. That boy needs an anger management course. Ben, Greg, and I got burgers (veggie for me) and they dropped me off and then decided to go to the Mitchell Brothers strip joint in San Francisco for lap dances.

Lest anyone, for many reasons, think that I’m a pig – here’s proof that I’m not:

I’ve never been to a strip club. So there.

Good weekend. Good wedding. Along with the fun there were many deep thoughts of age and maturity and my own relationship and how good it is to have friends and why card clubs suck and man I would like to sleep with that caterer.

You know, the really deep thoughts.

The Larry King Happy Song Corner

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Larry is a friend. Yeah you know that he's a good friend of mine. But lately something's changing, hard to define, Larry's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine...that reminds me of a philosophy I live by: a naked woman really does nothing for me, but show me in dame in the right dress... Yowza!

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