Weddings, Farts and why I shouldn't be out in public

This weekend I made the mistake of socializing in a large group setting. I attended a wedding. My sister's childhood friend got married and the wedding service and reception were in the same place in Downtown Los Angeles. It was my girlfriend,my mother and I. My sister was a maid of honor. As I waited for the servcice to start, I began to be quietly amused by the corny music that was playing in the background.

The place had a large ceiling and was spacious. I waited and waited for the service to start but being confined to my tiny chair, my mind began to wander. The first thing I noticed was that I smelled breath. Not bad breath necessarily- just breath and come to think about it, it had to be somewhat bad if I'm writing about this now.

The blonde lady in front of me had tiny wrists. I was fascinated. They looked like chop sticks. She also talked alot with her hands and I just stared at the tiny wrists while wondering how much force it would take to snap them. I also saw a man take pictures with a pink phone. PINK PHONE? UNACCEPTABLE.

He said I do. She said I do. They kissed. Relief.

Here is the problem, the service room now needs to be arranged for dinner and the wait was long. We are escorted to a garden-like patio that had a bar and few chairs. My feet and back hurt. I'm reminded of why I hate weddings. They should just be called torture tests.

"Hey there's a pizza place accross the street. My treat," I tell my mother and girlfriend. "Just wait", Is the stern response. My back is now killing me and I'm staring at the people and debating whether it would be socially unacceptable to lie on the floor. After a long wait, we are herded inside to an assigned table.

The table is filled with parents but the are all nice. My stomach is growling but we are served Caesar Salad. (I was the only one skipped but they fixed that.) In my fantasy world, I'm pounding extra cheese on my giant slice of pepperoni pizza.

They are serving potatoes and burgers but there is a catch, the tables will be called randomly and of course, we aren't chosen until the very end. To say I was starving is like saying Amy Winehouse liked to party. (Too soon?).

THE THEFT
I get in a giant line of starving people and As I get my plate, they run out of potatoes. So I wait cordially but I look back and I notice that the line thinks I'm holding them back! One fat Mexican guy cuts in front of me and STEALS MY PLATE and rudely says, "excuse me" and proceeds to pour himself food. "That's my plate! I yell to a guy that eats Fuck you for breakfast. Wow I was shellshocked. The food was good but cold but I was happy.

THE SKETCH ARTISTS
The bride had three cartoon artists that made drawings for donations. I wait in line and I'm trying to decide which artist to use when I look up and notice a Fat Mexican artist that looked eerily familiar. Holy shit one of the artists is the guy that stole my plate. I let it go. I decided to use a lady that kept insisting that I smile. This is the sketch that she made of us.We ate and left.

THE GYM
The next day I decide to go to the gym. I lift some weights and barbells and now I do my routine of going to the aerobic room by myself to do cardio (jumprope). I'm alone and I enter and this petite girl enters behind me. I got to my corner and she is close to me. She is doing stretching exercises and I'm on a matt stretching my back when I smell the smell of death. It pierced my soul. It was sharp and foul. The bitch farted. I was livid.

There are two in the room and my ass was not the guilty party (this time). Deductive reasoning: It was her! I move away and jump rope at a safe distance, away from the agent orange. I figured, the fart would dissipate. I forgave her in my heart. I go back to jumping rope in my original spot, next to ass blaster. I'm 20 seconds into my jump roping when she raped my nose again with an explosion. O.K now that was rude!!! I left my matt and storm out of the room where oxygen awaited me. My workout was cut short.(Emphasis on CUT)

This weekned I plan on going to the mall to see how much gas masks go for.