March 28, 2006
An Update of Dates
it's nearing krista and i's ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY, guys. i can't believe it. ...and oh, yes. we have a SET date for the wedding now. it's Friday, June 30, 2006... It's also in Farmington, Pennsylvania – just 70 miles southeast of Pittsburgh.
I know, I know. That's quite a way a-ways. The deal is... the ton of friends our age who wanted to attend and wish us well had begun to overwhelm a.) our desires for a small affair, b.) our planning, and c.) our financial budget. My mother, who has just separated from my abusive father (more on this later) and is supporting five kids with only her teacher's aide income (that'll change in time)... had been really stressing about how she was going to pay for a rehersal dinner. Did you know that the groom's parents are supposed to take care of that part? Krista's parents, who have house payments of their own to make, and two daughters of their own to support, have a much bigger burden with the wedding costs. Krista and I soon realized that our 170-ish person guest lists (each of us, now!) were out of hand. We shouldn't, couldn't, and wouldn't expect our parents to shell out the kind of money it would take to put together such a massive affair. So... we decided to have the wedding where we would be having our honeymoon... "Nemacolin."
You see, if you play around with that site I directed you to, you'd see that the wedding location is called "Nemacolin Woodlands Resort." I'll even get a little more specific on you. For our honeymoon, we're going to be staying in the "Chateau LaFayette" complex within Nemacolin: the one in these pictures that looks really big, is set most often against the sky, and... just seems French. We'll also be partaking in the wonderful spa there. The wedding will be outside (and from what I gather, so will the reception...) so we're praying beyond all prayers for clear and warm weather. It wouldn't hurt if you said a little prayer for us right now, either.
To top off my special "anniversary edition" of Life of Brandon Iam, I'm going to bring you some good news. Were you possibily wondering if you were going to be invited to the wedding in PA? Were you worried that travel would be a problem, even if you could split the gas with a carpool? No more. The primary celebration of Krista's and my married life will take place AFTER our wedding and honeymoon, in the form of a party, possibly in Washington Court House! Yaay!
We're not sure of where this is going to take place, but it will. ...Maybe at someone's house in CH or Cedarville or Columbus... ...maybe on the lawn of the Fayette County Museum... If you have a suggestion, or if you'd like to volunteer your house, you can get ahold of Vickie Baber, Krista's mom, at vbaber -at- gmail.com. It'll be an awesome time of fun and music, food and gifts. Yes, if you or your family would like to give us a wedding gift, this is how you'll get it to us. (If you're coming to the wedding, of course, bring the gift to PA... or if you'd like us for some reason to have our gift on our honeymoon, just e-mail Vickie about arrangements, no questions asked.) If you're our age, and invited to this "Awesome Wedding Party," [tentatively titled] your family will be, too. If you're invited to the wedding, you'll be invited to the party.
One last note about the party-- we're trying to accomodate anyone who wants to come and show support of our marriage. If you feel you'd like to attend this get-together, just drop an e-mail to me at brandoniamsmith -at- gmail.com, and i'll try to put you on the party roster. If you read this blog, however, chances are you're on it already... but you can still e-mail to make sure. Krista and I have a combined 330 people so far. Obviously, anyone invited to the wedding+party OR just the party will get a printed invitation in the mail. The final word on time/date and location will be enclosed.
I feel I should mention it again: we're sorry we can't accomodate many in the actual ceremony-- especially the individuals we've already told could come... we're just inviting precious few people to the actual wedding. And not to say that you're not precious. Heh. To give you an idea of the limited availability of guest spaces, take these facts into consideration: Krista had to trim back invitations to some of her FAMILY members, and I am only inviting SIX people who are not related to me... and they're all adults: Wayne and Pat Clark, Jim and Jeanne Rosendahl, and George and Amy Frederick. I, in fact, don't even expect those six to come (Not because they don't want to, but because they couldn't. The wedding's on a Friday). If everyone we invite comes, we've got 75 total... including Krista and me, Jay Lucas (the pastor who's marrying us as of today), and the photographer. If only those we EXPECT come, we're down to around 50. Amazing.
A last little secret: the groomsmen and bridesmaids are as follows--
Chad Carter, Wes Ruth, Matt Meyer, and Kevin McHugh
Jessica Daniels, Courtney Lucas, Kelsey Smith (my little sis!), and Caroline Hamman
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!!
March 27, 2006
Why English Teachers Die Young
The following are actual metaphors and similies found in high school essays.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
room-temperature Canadian beef.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience,
like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar
eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and
now goes around the country speaking at high schools about
the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of
those boxes with a pinhole in it.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated
because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a
surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the
way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty
bag filled with vegetable soup.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers
raced across the grassy field toward each other like two
freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m.
traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at
a speed of 35 mph.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds
who had also never met.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard
bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck,
either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from
stepping on a land mine or something.
March 26, 2006
Al's Haiku Notebook
On a humorous note, I thought i'd share with you a fun picker-upper i have instituted in our suite.
The picture you see here is directly across from our suite's toilet, in the form of a large poster. Euphemisms have arisen due to this fact, such as:
"I need to talk to Al,"
or, in reference to a consumption of Chipotle,
"Al and I have just scheduled a long and gruesome meeting tonight."
Beside the toilet, on the floor, are some old magazines. I would read them over and over.. A "Time" from fall 2005. A "Mac World" from early January 2006. It just wasn't cutting it. We needed something that wouldn't get old. I needed something that wouldn't keep me glued to the seat longer than I should be-- I have a problem with having to read any article I begin in its entirety. So... I developed (drumroll please) "Al's Haiku Notebook.
It is a small notebook I put together with staples and folded notebook paper. The "instructions" on the first page are as follows:
"Feel Free to contribute your original haiku poem while you converse with our mutual friend, Al.
Remember: haiku are constrained by the number of syllables on each line.
Five syllables here,
While seven of them go here...
And now back to five.
Include your name if you'd like, and every once in a while, someone should write a date.
Last but certainly not least, finish using the notebook and pen BEFORE you clean yourself. Al's spirit is watching... and he's a sanitary man."
So, ridiculous as it is, I feel a need to share some of our suite's humor with you. Enjoy!
Haiku deserves more
than the relenquishment it
gets here in the pot.
Something smells vaguely
like pancakes and cranberries.
...oh yeah. And Matt's mom.
~B-Dawg (I love you, Matt!)
Forever I poop,
The haikus are a real riot,
Squeeze this last *@%! out!
~Samir 2/22
(just to let you all know, Samir didn't swear.)
Don't you hate when the
water splahes up when you
drop a big deuce down?
~Samir
Do not be like Al
and be put in the big house
and die of the Syph!
*2-22-06
Oh Dingleberries...
Just keep them out of my Trix®
And all will be fine
*2-23-06
I enjoy haiku.
I suddenly find myself
crapping more often.
~B-Dawg
What do we have here?
A girl in the boy's bathroom?
Well, isn't that odd...
~Krista
Good bye Al Capone.
I must return home today.
Never forget me...
~Krista
Dad has been ousted.
Mom can finally feel peace.
I've waited for this.
~B.Smith
Boy, it still seems like
college is so far away.
Anticipation
Was just huge back then.
It seems fit that Case didn't
meet expectations.
~B-Dawg (I know, I know. Haiku are supposed to be self-contained.)
I have had the most
violent gaseous attacks
in the past few days.
You Want Entertainment?
I've amassed a few entertaining documents over the years. I'll be looking to those to fill my dead days--days where I know you'd rather read something funny than read about the boringness that was the last 24 hours. Exciting or even above-average occurances in my life will still make it on the blog: that's what most blogs are about, that's how mine started, and that's how my blog has generally been run over the years. (wow, I can say "over the years"...) But until I run out of fun things to talk about which don't involve everyday boringness, I'll let you in on the humor instead.
The following is my favorite monologue in the history of monologues. Granted, I haven't been exposed to many monologues (or is it just that the monologues I am exposed to don't warrant my attention?), but I can still call this my favorite. It's from the movie "Good Will Hunting," (which I thought was pretty sweet, BTW). I've censored it for the public forum.
A little background: Will is the main character. He's played by Matt Damon. He's a genius who works as a janitor @ MIT, and lives in a poor part of Boston called "southie." When he's discovered by an MIT professor, the prof wants him to get counselling, and eventually wants him to get a good job. The first half of this scene takes place in a job interview with an agent from the National Security Agency (you know, the supposedly all-powerful government agency with tons more power and secrecy than the CIA). The scene cuts mid-dialogue to the office of Will's counselor, played by Robin Willams, as if Will were recounting his interview word-for-word. It's genius. And, oh yes. You need to imagine Matt Damon speaking this with a heavy Bostonian accent. That could be the best part of seeing it actually performed on the video. Shalom!
NSA AGENT
We don't like to brag about that, Will. So, the way I see
it, the question isn't Why SHOULD you work for the
NSA? The question is: Why shouldn't you?
WILL
Why shouldn't I work for the NSA? That's a tough one.
But I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the NSA, and
somebody puts a code on my desk, somethin' no one else
can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break
it. And I'm real happy with myself, cus' I did my job
well. But maybe that code was the location of some
rebel army in...
SEAN’S OFFICE
WILL
...North Africa or the Middle East and once they have
that location, they bomb the village where the rebels are
hiding... Fifteen hundred people that I never met, never
had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are
sayin', "Oh, Send in the marines to secure the area" cus'
they don't give a sh*%. It won't be their kid over there,
gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number
got called, cus' they were off pullin' a tour in the National
Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie over there takin'
shrapnel in the a@#. He comes back to find that the plant
he used to work at got exported to the country he just
got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his
a*! got his old job, cus' he'll work for fifteen cents a day
and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only
reason he was over there in the first place was so that
we could install a government that would sell us oil at a
good price. And of course the oil companies used the
little skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices.
A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't
helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin'
their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, maybe
even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who
likes to drink martinis and f@%$n' play slalom with the
icebergs. It ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil
and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now
my buddy's out of work, he can't afford to drive, so
he's walking to the f!^@n' job interviews, which sucks
because the shrapnel in his a&@ is givin' him chronic
hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' cus' every
time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate
special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with
Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for
somethin' better. I figure f!!& it, while I'm at it why not
just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn
enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby
seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I
could be elected President.
SEAN
You feel like you're alone, Will?
WILL
What?