Hello friends: I am back from my wedding and honeymoon and they were all lovely. Now I'm working hard on Letting Myself Go.
A few odds and ends of things that went on while I was gone. On the Onion AV Club, I wrote about the pilot of this horribly wonderful new show "Stylista" and contributed to this "W"-inspired list. Also, I started this stupid Facebook group for fun and now word has gotten out which is kind of weird but fun.
Speaking of politics,while he served his role beautifully at our wedding, my, er, husband's best man would fail if he lived in the world of politics. Why? Because his toast was riddled with inaccuracies. I've reprinted it below and fact-checked it so that you're not misled by any of his wild accusations:
On this most blessed of days, I thought it only fitting that the story of these two lovebirds be recounted in excruciating detail. However, the spirit of brevity moves me to abridge so as not to delay these splendid festivities.
I of course met young Steven in high school. We were both then members of the squash team (lie) and we quickly bonded over our shared fondness for nineteenth century French philosophy and the works of Candice Bergen, Walter Payton, and Beverly Cleary (lies! At least about Walter Payton) . Indeed, it was here that Steve began what would ultimately become his career in videography, with films such as "Je Joue au Hockey" and "Die, Stereo Boy, Die!." (true). He could certainly cut a rug with the best of them in those days, and he often did (lies, from here until when I say the lies are over. Unfortunately, despite this most auspicious of beginnings, we fell out of touch after graduation, with Steve sailing off to do his missionary work in Chad, and me becoming a mill worker's apprentice in the Pacific Northwest. But Steve did not use this time in vain, as he began writing feverishly and, while tending to the natives (end lies here), worked as a human resources guru at a biomedical firm called Orthologic. After a number of lengthy e-mail exchanges, we eventually came together once again to begin writing and recording hundreds upon hundreds of strange songs, with oblique titles such as "Courses Concerning the Forestry of Fernando Island," "Get out of Artura Funk's Gym Bag," and "Eleanor and Pals in a Lukewarm vat of Jell-O." (These are all true or close to the truth unfortunately). These were the waters in which our working partnership that continues today was forged. Video shorts soon followed, and what initially began with a tiny homemade Daguerroscope (historical-type lie), blossomed into Steve's chosen profession today--designing, editing, filming, creating--working on commercials and music videos of the highest caliber in just a few short years. All of this actualized through his perspicacity and Spartan work ethic.
More importantly, it was also during this time that Steve met one Ms. Claire Zulkowski, as she was then known (mostly untrue). She had been an up and coming star on the Chicagoland amateur burlesque circuit(mostly untrue), and caught the attention of Steve when she was featured on a local Phoenix morning show (lie!). He eventually flew out to attend one of her shows and was lucky enough to meet her in person, oddly enough, in Detroit, Michigan. They hit it off immediately. He twittered over her tasteful non-fiction prose, lilting Italian, unabashed love of the White Sox, and brazen unwieldy ambition, while she swooned over his impish grin and video-editing prowess, his love of simian melodrama, his backwater tales of growing up in the old West, and his unparalleled collection of laced bodices (lie: they are zip-up). They watched movies, went to literary readings, stole away to camping trips in the wilderness. They traversed the Midwest together, hand in hand--Steve in his cherry red Kia Rio, and Claire right by his side in her rocket-powered Vespa (lie. But I wish it were true). And their courtship, though it began lo' those many years ago has continued until today where it now has reached a frothy boil, the apex of cool, its destined and natural fate.
In conclusion, I pray that my parting words do not belie my truest of intentions. Yes, Steve and Claire will live forever in a wondrous, magical world of their own choosing. Yes, they will accomplish Herculean feats, vaulting over life's hurdles as though they were nothing more than dwarfen voles and ground squirrels, darting across their straight and narrow path (TRUE). And yes, they will remain ageless, with nary a wrinkle nor gray follicle manifesting for the remainder of their days together (except for the painting in the attic that belies our true ages). But I come to celebrate Steve and Claire, not to praise them; the memories of the celebration live on; the words that are spoken are oft inferred with their bones; so let it be with Steve and Claire.
So as you can see this is a wondrous speech, however, riddled with hurtful inaccuracies, which is why we are never going to ask Waki to speak at our wedding again.