the return of the whothefuck.

For at least the past 15 years (sniff) i've literally been producing words at will (sniff) to write stuff for other people (sniff). And i mean important stuff (sniff) from college admission essays and full blows speeches (sniff) to love letters and fake doctor's certificates (sniff). But when it came to writing my own fucking wedding invite (sniff), I'm completely stumped (Sniffs, sobs, dies).

How the hell can one be different without coming of a pretentious retard? And once you've mastered the walima invite how the hell do you deal with the mehndi one? Why is there a fucking mehndi taking place in the first place? why can't it be just one fucking event that everyone dresses up for and has a ball at and then goes home after instead of bunking at my fucking house so that i don't even have a room available to sleep in and must stay at a fucking hotel? (stomps, kicks, bangs, dies)

The marriage part, i realize, for all the horror stories one hears, is much worthier of being looked forward to than the wedding part. In fact, if it wasn't for all the bullshit that one must go through in order to BE married, marriages probably would be far happier experiences then they are. But you are forced to go into it measuring each others inputs into the whole wedding (i'm winning by many a mile, btw, my lazy ass bride, just sayin) and how well who's friend came through and whose aunt is toooooooooo fucking paindoo to be invited. Also, did you know, if you want 300 guests at the event you don't give away 300 cards, you get 600 printed! 600 ppl are to be invited in order to yield a paltry 300??? how does that even equate? Is this a fucking wedding or a deep sea fishing expedition in the dead fucking sea? I am so fucking ready to just fucking elope with who fucking ever is fucking willing to fucking make a go of it than go through all this crazy shit. The worst fucking part is that my dearly beloved isn't into all this shit either, she just wants the diamond... but we both mustmustmust go through this whole shebang because well when your parents accept the indignity of having borne love-marriage-ing progeny, the progeny mustmustmust accept the indignity of being treated like fucking centerpieces on a fucking buffet table.

Fuck! I hope i make it through without losing all my hair and/or turning into one of those middle shelf cynical 'husbands' who take inordinate amounts of pleasure in the misery of others just because it makes them feel vindicated.

In other news, I am Back and oh boy oh boy oh boy, do i have stories to tell...