I returned late last night from the wedding of my friend Jeremy in Tipton, KS. For the most part, the trip was eventful, or boring, and sometimes both together. The Interstate system is a wonderful thing, It can take you most everywhere, and if it cannot get you there, it can get you damn close, but it takes a hella long time to get most places.
Tipton is a severely small town. Due to recent consolidation, it lost its high school to neighboring Downs, arousing much ire from the denizens of Tipton. I came up with an Idea for the mascot of Downs. Currently the Dragons, I feel that they should become the Syndrome, and each team should have an extra player.
The initial thirteen hour haul from South Bend to Tipton with the best man, Sven, was broken up by a stop in KC to see the Royals thrash the Cleveland Indians. This was the beginning of Jeremy’s bachelor party, he consumed roughly one beer per inning and threw up in the backseat of my car on the way to the gentlemen’s club.
I’d never been to a strip joint before, and I really have no desire to go ever again.
Granted, it was fun to watch Jeremy, but the whole atmosphere seemed hollow. One of the guys bought me a lap dance, and while my body enjoyed the carnal [i’m at work right now — a nun just walked in and asked for a computer] aspects, it didn’t even really get me that turned on. It was like those Easter rabbits, chocolately on the outside, but nothing filling it up but stale air. I was bored after the first half-hour. Apparently the only attraction that the club held for me was the curiousity of the unknown. It only took me thirty minutes to understand the interactions between customers and staff, that is how shallow it felt. It was a baby-pool culturally.
It did teach me something of myself thankfully. Pure unimaginative physicality does not turn me on. I need at least the appearence of appealing personality to give me that nudge. I have no interest if there is no reciprocation of desire. So when I crush hard on a girl, I’ll know there is more to it than just lust. Boobies in the face aren’t that interesting unless there is a vested emotional intent behind them.
We Notre Dame folk were put up in a small house that doubles as a hunting lodge right down the street from both reception hall and church. Hell, everything is right down the street in a town that has only a general store and one restaurant.
The next day I met most of Jeremy’s gigantic family. He has some cute cousins but told me not to hit on them. That evening, after the ridiculous 115 degree weather, there was a pool party in the nearby town of Beloit. I had not been swimming in ages and the heavily chlorinated water was good indeed.
The 4th was the rehearsal day, after the rehearsal, we had pork brisket, baked beans, potato salad, and homemade ice cream at the huge local hunting ranch. Then we blew up an arsenal of fire works for several hours.
The wedding day was boiling hot, especially in the church in a suit. I videographed the wedding without a hitch and the reception dinner was roast beef, mashed taters, corn, rolls and amaretto wedding cake. The dance was great, I suppose I enjoy dancing when I don’t feel obligated to try and dance well, and can just be crazy. I was crazy, and it was a blast. I also caught the garter. Apparently it was arranged by Jeremy and Christy to get me together with Christy’s friend Theresia. Well we ended up dancing together and we talked a bit, but I’m not really interested. Besides, she lives in the middle of nowhere Kansas.
We ND folk stayed up ass late talking and then arose ass early to drive home. The drive home took a bit longer because of a traffic jam, and we didn’t arrive in SB till 11:30. It was a long but good weekend.