Something Bridal This Way Comes

As of today, our wedding is officially two months away, and the days are starting to slip past us a bit quicker now, with every terrible tick and ominous tock of the countdown clock accelerating us faster and faster to the I Do Deadline. It’s a funny thing, a wedding. When it’s far off in the hazy glimmer of some distant day, it’s exciting and joyous and – perhaps most importantly – it’s all theoretical. But as the days slide off the calendar one by one and bring you ever closer to the event, things begin to change. And, with the exponentially increasing speed that accompanies the arrival of any deadline that’s been victimized by excessive procrastination, what was once merely theoretical suddenly becomes inescapably inevitable, and the excitement and the joy start to give way to the stress that comes from having so much left to do and the panic that results from having so little time left in which to do it. It’s a common theme, really. They have reality shows about it, wherein future brides channel the ancient spirits of antediluvian Japanese reptile-gods and set about devouring whole cities with the homicidal fury of their nuptial rage. Or something like that, anyway.

Brittany, thank Gojira, is not one of those brides. She’s fairly laid back even in times of extreme stress, which is an enormously good thing. Recently, some of her bridesmaids had to leave the wedding party to take on other roles in what is apparently known as the House Party (which, it has been pointed out to me, unfortunately involves neither Kid nor Play). This sudden change to the starting lineup might have rattled a lesser coach, but Team Brittany perseveres through all things. She just cracked open her playbook, moved some Xs and Os around, and everything and everyone is happy. Although, I must regrettably alter my number of groomsmen so as to avoid a potentially catastrophic imbalance at the altar. The wedding party, it would seem, must be equal on both sides, lest one side overpower the other. I guess the battle of the sexes begins even before the first vows are spoken. Who knew?!

We met with the wedding coordinator of the church this past Saturday, which was a much-anticipated event that was altogether anti-climactic and disappointing. I was all set for a rousing theological debate with a well-armed opponent, perhaps someone along the lines of a holy Nurse Ratched. Instead, all I got was a nice old lady with the face of a sun dried tomato, who was happy and pleasant, and who possessed an altogether infectious eagerness to give us everything we wanted. I had braced myself for the thrilling bloodsport of an ecumenical showdown, and all I got was a sweet old lady who kept saying “Yes” to us – it was infuriating! I did have to bite my tongue once, when the conversation took a brief sojourn into the strange political landscape of a media-distorted mind, but I was good and kept quiet, even in the face of words like socialism, debt, and the French. I could go on about how misguided and ill-informed people are about political things, but I think I did that already…

As of right now, much more is ready for the big day than is still left to be done. We’ve got the church and reception covered, including music and decorations. The cake is taken care of, the reception menu decided. (Although, sadly, I’m not going to be catering it myself, as I originally wanted. Gordon Ramsay will be so disappointed…) The bridesmaids all have their dresses, Brittany’s bridal gown will be here in a few weeks (I think. I hope.), and our rings should be here in the next few days. All that’s left is for me to choose my tuxedo style and get my groomsmen fitted. However, in a depressing turn of events, I suspect that my trimmed-down roster of groomsmen will prevent me from getting my tux for free, which might have been Brittany’s plan all along when she moved some bridesmaids into the house party. After all, most of the tuxedo rental places have a minimum number of rentals required before the groom gets his tux gratis, and I’m sure that number is greater than three. Maybe it’s some kind of twisted and bizarrely feminine attempt at a firm enforcement of the equality of the sexes through a fiendish manipulation of established tuxedo renting incentive protocols, sort of thing. Yeah, that’s probably it. She did it on purpose! Although, I’ll never know for sure…

So here we are, two months away from the big day and all of the stresses are beginning to dissolve away, bit by bit as we check items off of the To Do List. Like generals on some matrimonial battlefield, Brittany and I are ticking off objectives one by one and laying waste to the armies of Need To Do, Want To Do, and Have To Do. Pretty soon, everything will be set and in place, and all we’ll need to do is show up and look pretty. I can handle the pretty, and with GPS navigation, showing up won’t be a problem. All in all, I think we’re in pretty good shape. Bring it on!*

*The preceding statement should in no way influence any or all ethereal agents of Fate, Serendipity, Luck, Destiny, Fortune, Kismet, Chance, Karma, or of any other natural or supernatural entity capable of affecting, manipulating, altering, or otherwise interfering with the plans described elsewhere in this document. Interpreting said statement as an issuance of challenge for eldritch forces to advocate, either through the use of enhanced enforcement techniques or without, or to otherwise attempt to instruct the mortal author of this document on the futility of mankind’s efforts to control the multiverse is strictly prohibited, except where explicitly allowed by existing transdimensional law.

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NOTE:  I know times are hard and yeah, I need to make a living too, but if you want to read any of my books but can't afford to buy them right now, hit me up.

I'll take care of it.

Humor | Nonfiction
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If so, then grab a snack, get comfortable, and prepare to have all of your own poor life choices seem just a little bit more bearable.

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Short Stories
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This isn't just a book. It's a portal to other worlds where there be magic and dragons and hilarious pirates. Okay, not really. But this book is about those portals, except they're called video games.

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Part One starts way back in 1975 and meanders down various digital pathways until, oh, around about 1993 or so.

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I'll try to not be boring.

Horror
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What you are about to read is not a story. There is no beginning, middle, or end.

What follows is nothing more than a series of journal entries involving shadow people, sleep paralysis, and crippling fear. It’s not pretty, it doesn’t follow story logic, and nothing works out well in the end.

You've been warned.